I went to the post office near my place in Reading to buy stamps for postcards to the States, most of which go to Bob Collén. A young man was behind the counter. He must have been in his teens. I wanted four books of six self-sticking stamps, each of which comes with as many air-mail stickers. Each stamp costs forty-two pence. The fellow had only three books left, though. I produced a twenty-pound note, expecting a bit more than four pounds in change. Thinking of something else, I counted the money in my hand only after I left the post office. To my surprise, I got back more than twelve pounds. At first I thought of returning to the fellow, but I quickly changed my mind because I was in quite a hurry. “Kids,” I concluded, lamenting the poor state of today’s education. It took me a while to realize the fellow was not wrong. Eighteen stamps at forty-two pence a stamp cost seven pounds and fifty-six pence. In short, I had succumbed to blind prejudice. Not to mention blind ignorance.