TL was just finishing off his bagel the other morning when he suddenly went pale, shot out of his seat, and ran off, shouting, ‘bloody hell!’. ‘Whaaaaat?’ I said, as the rest of us sat round the breakfast table looking surprised. ‘I’m supposed to be at a breakfast meeting in St Pancras. Now!’ he said, as he rummaged for shoes/coat/keys/phone. ‘Bloody hell!’ I agreed, and watched as he sprinted down the road. I went back to finish breakfast. ‘You said…