At about ten past nine I got up to go to the bathroom.

There was about two-thirds of a glass of wine in front of me that I had not touched, and I had been faking it for ninety minutes, and I was quite pleased with myself about it.

I came back and sat down and picked up the glass — automatically, mid-sentence, because he had said something and I was answering it — and I had it about four inches off the table when I noticed.

There was a film on the surface.