LIBRARY, 1997.

    "Sounds like an undertaking which will require a bevy of empirical testing on our parts..."
    "Well it, um, hold on - do you see that girl leaning against the railing over there?"
    "With the notepad? Yeah, she's pretty cute, with that stripey -"
    "Yeah yeah, that's the one - I think she's watching us.
    Observing us."
    "Okay: here's the plan... on the count of three we get up and do something goofy."
    "One... two... three!"
We get up out of our chairs; I spin around and flap my arms like wings, while he bends over, grabs his feet and tries to pull them to touch the top of his head while uttering operatic phrases. After a few brief but furious seconds of this impromptu spaz session, as if on cue, we return to our seats at the same time, adjusting, brushing ourselves off and regaining our composure.
    "Think she saw us?"
    "Can't see how she couldn't have. What's she doing now?"
    "Surprise surprise, writing something down."
    "Hold on a minute - I'm going to get to the bottom of this."
He gets up and confidently strides up to the scribe, too busy taking notes to be aware of his approach until he is almost upon her. He nods and his lips move - they are too far away for me to overhear. She utters something in response and he gets in the last word - hitting on her, perhaps? Probable. He calmly returns to our table, grinning.
    "What's the story?"
    "Sociology student, recording people's responses when they realise she's watching them."
    "As usual, I suspect we're members of the cohort that has the most fun."