I have just had what was probably the most stressful morning I have spent at the RA. I was working in the cloakroom on a wet Saturday morning during one of the busiest exhibitions we have ever had. I had forgotten how completely cack handed I am. Also, I had never experienced how many coats people expect to leave – coats, jackets, bags, rucksacks, newspapers, gloves, scarves, umbrellas and hats (what to do with the hat ?). It’s nearly impossible to find the sleeves on the more elaborate coats, which most of them are, in a jungle of fake fur. Then, the bags go in lockers while the coats go on hangers. After a bit, the place fills up so it’s hard to find a hanger. As one takes the hanger out, the coat next door falls off. Someone asked me if I was looking for diamonds in the pockets. On the contrary, I was just trying to find a way to hang her coat up. It made me full of admiration for the calm and sang froid with which the others – artists – behind the counter operated.