It does happen, but not all the time.

Windows down and I can hear the kids playing before we pass them by along the side of the school, the buildings flat then tall, loose gravel crunching under the tires. A whistle in the distance and I pull onto the yellow line at the square head of the long thin carpark and Julie and I climb out.

She heads for the canteen at the front of the shed at the bottom of the hill as I slide the doors at the back of the van open and haul out the first of the…