why has the rum gone?

A further episode in the annals of my interesting cosplay student: he celebrated Talk Like A Pirate Day today by turning up, naturally, in full pirate regalia, including eyepatch, hook and a frilly white shirt I more than somewhat covet. Oh, and a giant black pirate flag, over which I fell at intervals throughout the tut. But these little moments do add piquancy to my teaching experience.

The rum has all gone, incidentally, because (a) both I and my Evil Landlord have scratchy throats and are knocking back hot rum toddies like they're miraculous healing draughts, and (b) I am more than usually horribly broke, owing to the fact that the faculty neglected to pay me a third of my salary this month. On the upside, payday is on Tuesday, and they've allowed me to relocate back to my comfy office, where I've spent the day neglecting curriculum-checking in favour of buggering around on Facebook, annotating Honours essay drafts and concocting a fascinating journal article on Mieville and Gaiman and the geo-political ramifications of refracted Londons. (Sorry, also watched Beer Bad last night, as my state of health demands Buffy comfort-watching instead of getting stuck into Life on Mars in accordance with the decrees of the jo&stv). Almost I begin to understand why the faculty wanted me to work under their administrative eye...

Last Night I Dreamed: a sprawling castle inhabited by a sort of sprawling extended family of magic-using people; we had to collect a vitally important magical statue, the key to our whole defense. This entailed meeting the courier and his magically-charged briefcase at the airport, and effecting an escape by car through magical short-cuts. Later I discovered, in a sort of factory workshop yard thing, that my car could be completely deconstructed into components, revealing the hidden compartments full of all sorts of stuff.