Autumn has come with the gold of trees all over the city, and even the country. All is so golden, that the sun need not shine, the trees shine instead, spreading their golden light over the darkness of the streets and the general universe of this country.
This morning was pale blue, all over the river and the bridges. Pale blue mist covered the sky and the clouds.The sun was wrapped in pale blue. And the gold of the trees shouted loudly at the sky and the world, in a language unheard by the people.
All the people went to work. Exactly the way they would, on a rainy day, on a sunny day, on any other day. Underslept, hangovery, unhappy, staring at their toes and carefully avoiding the beauty if the world as it was revealed onto them outside the bus windows.
Today I suggested some students of Irish studies, to play Irish Terrorists. They refused to blow up the Faculty, though. Maybe I can tempt them to writing papers instead.
My Wee Gray Friend the Mole is reading Chaucer and rejoicing greatly at it. I cannot understand that, but most probably, Chaucer is not guilty. Maybe I should not read poetry, after all. It gives me a hangover.
O Oysters, come and walk with us,
The Walrus did beseech.
A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk
Along the briny beach.
We could not do with more then four
To give a hand to each.
(I hope everyone remembers that the oysters were eaten then)
This is the best characteristics of the reforms at the University at the present moment.