Visitors to my new office gasp at the transformation. No longer is it the drab, dank, dusty pit of dreariness it was when inhabited by the late Giselle. No, dear Reader. It positively twinkles.

I have to admit, dear Reader, that I took some advice on this from Professor Mise of the Mathematics Department, now lifestyle-blogger extraordinaire. Mise, I said to her recently as I pretended to admire the marigolds that seem to have been left to run riot in her rather jungle-like garden, we have come a long way since that little contretemps we had in the autumn of ’96 over those first year students you poached.* Perhaps, dear Mise, you have learnt something useful in all those years since to help me convey the wonders of my surroundings to my dear, dear Reader?

Mise then muttered something about pictures being worth more than a thousand long-winded paragraphs.

Here, then, are some pictures. I begin with the view of the late summer blooms in the quadrangle. They seem to have sprung up of late, as if nourished by some hidden source:


And here, dear Reader, are some artefacts I have scattered around my new office, all artfully placed so as to suggest to the visitor that they are dealing with a Person of Consequence.

This, for instance, is a Runic eyeball. I personally unearthed this while on a dig in South America many decades ago. No one has found its like since.


Hot upon this discovery came another, this time of an ancient ceremonial prayer object, which was found in the industrial East Midlands:


And here, dear Reader, is my Lecturing Hat. It hangs next to my mortarboard.


Lastly, dear Reader, here is my teapot. Should you ever be fortunate enough to find yourself knocking on Dr Ada’s oak-lined rooms (by invitation only!), you may find yourself being gently but firmly instructed to pour tea from it.



To be frank, dear Reader, I do not know how this picture got here. It appears to be a police speeding photo of my companion and me on our vacation recently. I shall have to ask Darren from IT to remove it from my computer.

* More on this in my forthcoming blog post on First-Year Students and Macaroons.


5 thoughts on “Positively twinkling

  1. Dear Ada, PhD, I do admire your lecturing hat. I do hope your gown is bright red to show how up to date you are with colour blocking/ clashing and all items of style. Obviously, your boots are fabulous, suitable for building, gardening, motor bike riding, and digging deep holes.

    1. Sweet of you to notice, dear Speccy. Why yes, my gown is a pillar box red (I make a splendid splash of colour at graduation time among all the moth-eaten shabby black gowns in which my colleagues wrap their husk-like forms). And yes, the boots. They have stood up well to the mud of late.

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