I cannot always control my external world, but I can control my reactions to it.

A cancellation goes up on the board and forty people receive identical information. One is already walking towards the taxi rank. One is shouting at a member of staff who cancelled nothing. One has sat down and opened a book.

The board decided none of that. Nor, entirely, did character — some of it is how much sleep those forty had, and what else is going on at home.

The control on offer is small and genuine. Not the feeling that arrives, but what gets done in the next minute while the feeling is still loud. It is a narrow strip of ground, and it is the only ground anyone has ever had.