I ignore the rough-sleepers outside my door just as we all ignore the poor

SODDEN, wet feet in smelly socks and squelching shoes remind me of secondary school.

If I got wet on the bike in the morning, that was it, my clothes were steaming for the day. Class sizes were bigger then, and mine was of all boys. On wet days, the windows were closed and covered with condensation. A different sort of condensation mouldered everywhere else: the aroma was thick, teenage and badly in need of Lifebouy soap.

The image of soaking stocking feet in sopping trainers is stuck in my mind since Tuesday of last week.