When I was twelve, Mr Webster told me to pick up a piece of litter near where I was standing. I objected that I hadn’t dropped it. And in his wonderful, firm, calm manner, which communicated there was no discussion to be had, but that the matter was closed, he said “So?” Twenty five years later, six thousand miles from Romford, there are kids that pick up litter that they didn’t drop because of what that one syllable taught me. Thank you Mr Webster.