So sorry, but how could I resist? I’ll be the million-and-oneth middle class graduate to smugly intone TS Eliot’s words here in Prufrock’s coffee, but I don’t care. My glee is undimmed by my lack of originality. Who doesn’t love a sheep? Seeking a dry and welcoming nook in which to finesse my latest translation before lunching with my daughter, I strode into an office reception area hoping it was a coffee shop.