Our minds are blank. We sit back in our chairs. We stretch our arms, then our legs. W. yawns and then I yawn. W. gets up and goes to the loo, and then I get up and go to the loo. Should we get something else to drink?, I wonder. Nothing else! We’re here to think, not drink, W. says.

We pause to finish the dregs of our pints and look around the bar. Do they sell pork scratchings?, we wonder. W. sends me to the bar to ask about pork scratchings. – ‘Fuck off and let me think’, he says.