An Epidemic of Robes

Wednesday. Summer holidays, and every class at the gate today came in robes.

Pointed hats. Long cloaks. Round spectacles. One boy in a cape with stars sewn on it, and a grandmother in a velvet number I would have been proud to wear to a coronation. I stood among them in my own robes and a gamesmaster asked me which session I was booked into. I have never been so insulted, or so flattered.

They arrive a quarter of an hour early, the students, which I had not expected. It leaves time to lock away their bags and hear the briefing before the door shuts. Under every robe was a pair of closed shoes. The castle insists, and frankly the castle is right: I once besieged a tower in sandals and I still think about it.

Next holidays I shall come dressed as an ordinary person. Nobody will suspect a thing.