Mary Beard throws a fig

When a chap is sitting on the floor at the British Museum, with both hands fully employed and both legs sticking out to be shod by gentlewomen-in-a-hurry, he gets a certain insight into what was once required to wear a Roman toga. The earlier stages, folding enough linen for a king-sized duvet and listening to ever more anxious shouts of 'clavi up', were simple tasks compared to the problems caused by not having put one's sandals on first.

Mine was a late decision to take part in the 100th...