A wagtail waddled across the concrete at the University of the East.
Strange- wagtails seem to like universities. There are wagtails at the University of the West too, also waddling along with a sense of purpose, perhaps on their way to a lecture on the Psychoanalytical Approaches to Tail-wagging in European Birdery.
The only green woodpecker I've ever seen was pecking the wood of a willow tree at the University of the West, and small fieldmice regularly run along the large outdoor corridor there.
Ah me! I had lost all of the pages of Mary-Ann Clawson's article on female bass-players in rock bands in Boston; I only had page one so I went through every single paper I had and eventually, I found the rest of it.
Now I have lost page one!
I have had to 'let it go'.
I have a pile of books and articles over a foot high to take home tonight: tomorrow is writing day and I'm going to take over the kitchen table with a delicious spread of audio magazines (to play 'spot the woman' with), books, papers and other things to rummage about in for the paper on women and audio technology.
And I have just had the most fantastic, unhealthy, greasy lunch and I feel amazing: solid, fatty, strong, warm (take that, O thou cold weather!), sleepy, and untroubled by the pressures building up around me.
On the way to work this morning, I not only had a song idea but also a very funny idea for a spoof of univerities that I have been writing for about ten years and have got about 4 lines of.
And Julia, who shares an office with me, says she doesn't mind me including her story of the day she dealt with a serious allegation of sexual harassment, only to find that the end of the day that she was till wearing the sparkling diamante Claire's Accesories tiara she'd put on as an ironic statement.
It makes me laugh even thinking of it.
Later, I shall be attending a meeting at which the students are allowed to criticise the way we teach and the content of our lectures. I am expecting to get slaughtered and I shall merrily agree with them. I wonder what they will think of that? Turgid and slow after my feast of grease, a placid and stupid grin will adorn my face and repel their arrows with dreamy splendour.
Finally- I'm going to Lucy O'Brien's tonight (Lucy wrote that fantastic book She-Bop) with a box of multi-coloured macaroons and a set of funny 'I teach at a university' stories to swap with hers. I am knackered, but my jowls have dropped as low as they can go, the bags under my eyes are as big as they can get and I have absolutely nothing left to lose on the energy front...