Before going to an open day for a sixth form college, I’d made a number of promises to my daughter, H, in respect of how fundamentally embarrassing it is to go anywhere with me. I wouldn’t ask any questions. I would try not to fall into conversation with anyone. I definitely wouldn’t interrogate any young people, even if they were standing in a classroom wearing a badge that said “Ask me anything about A-level biology”. In the unlikely event that any other parent asked me if I worked at the Guardian, I’d say, “What’s a guardian?” I would, in short, keep myself to myself.

That went pretty well for 25 minutes – until I spied a figure in the maths corridor and exploded in the world’s loudest stage whisper. “H, H, H, that’s Liz Truss.” She was heading, also with her daughter, past a room marked Further Mathematics, and it seemed to me the most important thing in the world that I get a photo. Not to put it on social media! Just to amuse one, maybe two of my........

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