"House wine?" Lydia wrinkles her pert nose. "I'll have a red. Shiraz. Here -" she hands over her credit card. "It's on me, to make up for mowing you down."

She spots a table with a couple of comfy chairs around it near the centre of the pub. Perfect. She likes to sit somewhere noticeable, just on the off chance of an eligible bachelor wandering in.

"So you're a student too?" Nancy's about her age, right?