Really quite late last night a leather-clad man sounded a peal on the doorbell of Larrington Towers in order to deliver a pizza. I was in the bath. And hadn't ordered a pizza, having dined well, if not wisely, on Sossidges a couple of hours earlier. And the window key fell out of the lock, bounced off the roof of the Grand Portico and disappeared into the Japanese Garden where doubtless the under-gardener will find it in July.