Irritation

I'm gazing through the window looking disconsolately at the rain. It's just having another little flurry even as I type. Not that rain here is in itself a bad thing (or anywhere else, I suppose, except Manchester where it's always foul.) It'll be fasting month soon and we're hoping for buckets of the stuff then as that's highly conducive to not getting headaches whilst fasting. No, the disconsolation stems from my plans to go for a run being thwarted. (I consider myself too old to get wet through and, anyway, Noi won't let me.) This means I'll have gone the whole week without any real exercise, unless you count traipsing up and down flights of stairs at work.

On a somewhat tangentially related matter, I've taken to insulting, quite gratuitously, groups of lit students, the types who take the subject seriously like yesterday's class, as 'literature geeks' who need to get outside for some fresh air. It's quite entertaining to witness the distinct irritation this provokes in the poor guys who are not too sure how to get back at me. It's sad to think of how out of fashion being unpleasant to kids has become.

Sometimes a pointed stick's a lot more useful than a big hug.