I took my scooter to the Opera this week. It was the first time my scooter had ever been there, and only my second trip. I asked the check-in lady whether she had ever checked in a muddy push scooter at the Royal Opera House before. She said with a wry smile that she hadn’t. She was a pretty, blond Scottish girl. I said that the rest of me was quite smart: I was wearing my snappy black suit which had been such a hit at school. She said that that was a matter of opinion. This put me out, but then I saw her flirtatious smile: she had a soft spot for my scooter. She wrote out on the check-in ticket. A scooter. Yes, it really is a scooter!!!’

The Opera was the Mozart’s Marriage Of Figaro, and was all about a virtuous young woman being so attractive that she had gained the unwanted attentions of a married Count. Her fiancee, Figaro, tries to fix the problem but just makes things worse, and this leads to all sorts of comic complications and delightfully witty and exquisitely melodic arias. I found it difficult to concentrate and started to dream about writing my own opera called Scooter At The Opera, which was about a pretty check-in girl at the Royal Opera House who had all sorts of unwanted attentions from the horribly rich and posh old roues who attend the Opera with their elderly wives. Her valiant fiancee tries to protect her but only makes matters worse by riding his scooter up and down the Opera House while batting away the lecherous old men. I would use all of Mozart’s tunes and so on, but just update the whole Figaro thing.

When I went back to get my scooter, the girl had gone. I scooted through the city at night, reflecting that my Opera years were over. It would be the first and only appearance of a scooter at the Opera.’