The other day I spotted a rather talented lunchbox on the shelf of a charity shop.

We needed one, and it was pristine. It was a Dr Who lunchbox with a picture of a dalek on the front. I paid the princely sum of £2.50 for it and bore it home, a trophy to show my son.

This morning I packed his lunch inside and sent him off to the porch to leave it, ready for the great daily exodus.

On the way from the kitchen to the front door he must have bumped it: and out came a Dalek voice. It declared “Exterminate!”.

Needless to say, Felix was delighted. From that moment until it was time for school, one could not prize him away from the porch, where he tested and re-tested his fabulous acquisition.

I’m sure I will tire of that gravelly electrical intonation, but it didn’t half liven up Monday morning for my son.

Felix duly reported that he parked his packed lunch box on the stand each class uses for that express purpose. And all the way through the day, his seven-year-old mates were bumping, accidentally on purpose, into the trolley, just to hear the Dalek’s silvery tones.

Bet his teacher loves me.

Once again, Felix was very popular indeed. He always is. He doesn’t get it from me, I had to grow into it. I hit my stride in my thirties, and have collected wonderful mates ever since. But Felix doesn’t actually need a Dalek packed lunch box to lend him kudos.

He has what Phil has, that cheeky-chappy-mateyness I have never quite managed to fathom. He has a wide circle of very solid friendships, from his little Portugese football buddy to his earnest mathematical genius of a best friend.

If you see Felix with the latter, the lore on the playground goes, it’s like watching a pair of old women setting the world to rights.

Maddie had an amazing discovery today, about someone she has never really considered a friend.

The little girl in her class is assertive in the extreme, and Maddie usually shies away from her style.

But today, she had begun to talk seriously to her: and it appears this little girl shares her passion for Shakespeare. She has a new friend, with a like mind.

Not an average passion for ten-year-olds. Maddie fell in love with him through the story of Romeo and Juliet, which she picked off a school shelf a couple of years ago. She adored it from start to finish, fatalistic little one, and moved swiftly on to A Midsummer Nights Dream and The Tempest.

I didn’t believe her. When she was getting her school portfolio ready to show a prospective headmaster , I said, Maddie, you can’t write that you like Hamlet, unless you are willing to discuss why you love it so much, the intricacies of the plot, the nuances of Hamlet’s character.

So I talked with her, and she did just that. She even taught me a thing or two. I gaped openly.

Now she has found a Shakespeare buddy, and in the most unlikely of corner of the world. Sometimes, people surprise us, don’t they? We have no idea who they really are, because we don’t let them show us. And then, hey presto, like a rabbit out of a hat, here is a whole new character one never knew about.

I spent today at work with many good friends. They have become quite dear to me, this little band of teachers, some more experienced than me with years of wisdom and talent: others just starting out, with charismatic intelligence and quickfire humour. Still others are just at that moment where they might become leaders of others.

I am lucky: I can sit on the sidelines. I have climbed to the pinnacle and seen all I want to see of the heady educational world, and I give my two-and-a-half days and then come back home to the madcap world that is Shrewsday Mansions.

Today, my friends are under siege.

They are facing a challenge from which they may not run; an internal school inspection. They are forced to stand and fight. Each one is a warrior, fit to face the enemy: but they are tired and battle weary after a long half term at the chalkface. It is hard to meet challenges when you are tired, no matter how clever and charismatic you are.

I walked round the school and everyone’s face said the same. That guarded look which may not speak its name. All day I respected everyone’s personal space. Sometimes a hug makes one crumble when one wishes to remain steely.

Friendship grows stealthily. I would never have imagined how protective one can feel towards those who were only acquaintances once.

And adversity is when one really knows who one’s friends are, don’t you find?

Finally I came home, picked up the kids, and gave Maddie an enormous hug.

And we arrived home to find that my longest-term best friend had arrived home early and poorly from work.

He’s sitting in bed looking content, laughing and joking with the two who have come out of our friendship.

I told him I would have to work late: the heat is on. He said, Sorry about all this. Sorry I’m too poorly to help.

And I said, Baby, you already have.

There are times when friends bump against Daleks for giggles. And there are times we can share our deepest love of Shakespeare with them. And finally, there are times when none of us friends are able to use words, and we send silent waves of empathy zig-zagging across an English school, to find others of like mind.

Bon Courage, Mes Amis.