I adjust my dress and wash my hands.Then, I turn around to confirm what I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye. And it is this:
One of my colleagues carrying his lunch - on a tray - into the Gents' toilets.
It is a genuine "Wait... WHAT?" moment.
"Wait... WHAT?"
He looks at me apologetically, for there is no greater faux pas than taking a steaming bowl of soup and a vegetarian stir fry into the can with you.
"There had," I said, the disgust welling up inside me, "be a pretty good explanation for this."
And there was.
He had - it turned out - already read the newspaper during his tea break.
"You may proceed. Wash your hands."
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