On Saturday morning I had the opportunity not to get up at 6.30 for a change. Wonderful!
Unfortunately, I was woken by a forensically-detailed nightmare about today, in which everything went wrong: everything.
I rushed around my imagination trying to solve all the humungous problems thrown up by the dream and finally woke exhausted as though I'd lived through the whole day.
Then I had a whole day to live through, but not the day I'd dreamed about, which was today.
Saturday (once I'd recovered) was fine, and so was Sunday, but more of those days tomorrow (confused?).
Today was amazingly OK. What was scary about it? I had to organise 81 student presentations across six rooms with six staff, who should have been seven. That's 81 named mark sheets (can't afford not to, in case one or two go missing), 81 time-slots, six tea breaks and strategies to deal with no-shows.
We all met at 9.30, got started at 10, a camera showed up at 11 to replace the missing lecturer and in the end, most of the assessors were quite pleased by the quality of the students' research.
Me? After a satisfying evening repast of a left-over chocolate biscuit and a bowl of original Doritos, it's iPlayer and a cup of decaf tea for the rest of the evening, which I hope will not lead to another horrid dream.