I’ve got my job interview for the lectureship in Edinburgh on Friday, and I’m giving a seminar at the department tomorrow, so I’m flying up from Bristol this evening. Unfortunately, I’m probably not going to be able to meet up with folk, since I’m going to be going over my presentation this evening, and I’m being wined and dined by the department on Thursday night. Nuts. Maybe next time.
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I’ve been getting some odd dreams over the past few nights. Not my usual fare of anxiety dreams, but the sort that make you wake up and think “what was all that about”?
This morning: I dreamed that I was looking at an estate agent’s catalogue with my long-suffering officemate, Steve (WINOLJ). I’d found a wooden-hulled yacht that slept 114, and that only cost slightly more than £100 million. We decided that it would be perfect for my boss.
Yesterday morning: I dreamed that I was working in a factory in the People’s Republic of China which made pushchairs (award-winning pushchairs, to be sure – my subconscious was quite particular about this point), which I was packing into cardboard boxes for shipping.