Got in this morning to at least six zillion emails. What is wrong with people? Why do they want to communicate so much? Honestly, anyone would think they had nothing better to do … That said, most of it is my fault for sending out so much stuff last week which needed a quick response, mainly in the catering area. So I am hoist by my own petard. Ooh, I do love a good petard.
I think I got most of it under control by lunchtime though – so I could lie back and enjoy my reflexology session with a clear conscience. In fact, I was so relaxed that I drifted off towards the end and woke myself up by snoring. How unpleasant for poor Emily! Still at least the rest of her week will be easy. Getting my session over on a Monday is no doubt a good thing for her.
And there was a brief period of time today when I was an Honorary Member of the Chaplaincy - for always answering Ruth G's phone when she's away from the desk. The Chaplain declared the new role and my employment in it at 10.10am, but when I said that I was deeply touched and was already wiping a tear of joy from my eye, he sadly had to withdraw the offer at 10.11am due to an "excess of sarcasm". Surely not, we cry! Ah well, I like to think I had a brief but glittering career. Though I don't think I ever got an answer to my response of: but that's not What Jesus Would Do ... My, what fun we have here at the front-line of Student Care, m'dears. Talking of which, this week's heroes are Wilfred Owen (for being poetic and unlucky, the ideal combination for the modern age), Greg Norman (for playing so well and bravely at yesterday's Golf Open final and getting a well-deserved second place), Mark Cavendish (a cyclist Carol is keen on) and Brian Trubshaw (a fighter pilot, I think, and picked by the Dean, who's mad on planes). A sad lack of women, I fear, but I'm hoping to make up for that next week.
Meanwhile, I’ve been having a lot of fun arranging a February literature event for our new English department. The English Professor wanted it to be based around the theme of love, so I had the top-notch idea of inviting the glorious Emma Darwin to give a reading from The Mathematics of Love and/or her upcoming A Secret Alchemy, which between them take in the themes of transgressive and secret love. And – result! – Emma has agreed to do it, so thank you, Emma! Already I am hugely looking forward to February.
Tonight, I am at the shops (oh joy …) and I really absolutely utterly must get some petrol somewhere. Otherwise, I’ll be pushing poor Rupert (the car) home. I do so hate hovering above Empty. Ah, in so many ways. And later it’s “New Tricks” on TV – how I love to slob, of an evening. Though, is it me or was "Midsomer Murders" last night so completely over-the-top that it disappeared twice up its own bottom and exited laughing? Lordy only knows what was going on.
Before we go, it's time for a poem:
I'm so focused on what lies ahead,
all the imagined treasures,
that I forget
these current pleasures
with which my journey's fed.
My, how I love a bit of philosophy for a Monday.
Today’s nice things:
2. Arranging a reading event with Emma