Oh well, back to work. I'm not actually teaching until this evening, but I've got a hell of lot of admin shite to do - stuff like photocopies, reports, exam prep and marking blah blah blah......The weekend was pleasant, spent digging the garden and visiting people. It is with a slow accretion of dread, like watching the sea come in over sandflats, that I realize that I'm increasingly turning into my parents. Why? I hate it. This steady process of homogenisation seems to come to us all. As long as I avoid wielding a moustache. Or baldness. Or Laura Ashley print frocks.
I took part in the National I.Q. test on Sunday night. Despite being drunk, I still scored 66 out of 70, giving me an I.Q. of 140 (on a scale out of 149). Yeah, right. So bloody what? Look at me, for God's sake. Brain the size of a small county town, and I'm earning less than a toothless beaver on a logging farm......right. Time to do some work.