Kathryn, this is indeed wonderful news, as is the revelation that there’s a town called Romeoville.

Meanwhile from Yorkshire we read this:

clutching a piece of scrap paper Julie Critchlow faithfully takes down food orders from dozens of school children clamouring for her attention as they peer at her through the school fence. “Two portions of chips, five burgers, two with cheese, three without…,” Mrs Critchlow frantically scribbles away. Shouts are heard for cans of fizzy drinks and sweets and cakes. Mrs Critchlow, along with her friend Sam Walker, carefully take a note of all the requests, take the money and head off to the local shops, including a fish and chip shop and a sandwich shop called Chubby’s, to place their long list of orders. For the past week the two mothers have been taking similar orders from youngsters aged 12 to 18 every morning during school break at 11am. And every day more and more pupils at Rawmarsh Comprehensive School rush to the fence near neighbouring Rawmarsh Cemetery, where the women stand, to ask for more of the same.

Yes, yes, disgraceful, youth led astray, ‘the children’ and all that, but there’s just something about the idea of rebel kids eating a clandestine pie garnished with samizdat fries in a cemetery that just makes me, well, laugh.