life is skittles and life is beer*

It is representative of the tragic story of my teaching life that my third-years this morning, having snoozed gently through a 20-minute discussion of Eileen Gunn's incredibly witty postmodern sf story "Stable Strategies for Middle Management", should have woken up the instant I mentioned The Matrix, and chatted volubly and interestingly until ten minutes after the end of the tut. Highlight of the discussion:

STUDENT: "... but The Matrix is sexy, all that style and black leather and boots!"
(suddenly realises tutor is standing in front of him in a black leather jacket and boots, blushes BRIGHT RED!)
STUDENT... "um... not that I'm personally into that or anything..."

Spring is here! The trees are doing that mist of green on the bare boughs, and filling up with an enthusiasm of birds. If justice reigned, I'd be having at my remaining encyclopedia entry with pep and abandon, all zip and vigour and rising sap, but this is not, in fact, the case. The horror that is first period, with its concomitant 6am wake-up, may or may not have something to do with this. Also, my bedroom wall keeps falling on me in my dreams.

However, Hoodwinked opens this week. I shall tell myself firmly that it's Work, and bugger off to the movies.

* I don't like beer. Or, for that matter, skittles.