post-natal

Happy post-birthday noises! I am very full of shiraz, warthog ribs and chocolate mousse, after a particularly excellent and hilarious evening with the Falkenstein crowd, plus partners. I have been wined, phoned, gifted, visited and generally indulged, and am clutching new jewellery, new reading material and other evidence of my friends' and family's generally astute grasp of my proclivities. It is my considered opinion that, Granny Weatherwax aside, these birthday things are a good invention and may continue on their inexorable annual course without too much objection from me. (And thank you to everyone who posted birthday wossnames in the comments. I do appreciate it).

I am also worried to report, on the Eccentric Academic front, that structural anomalies* render it entirely possible to wear my new boots on the wrong feet for hours at a time without actually noticing.

* in the footwear, not my feet.