I was pleased to see our lecturer not bat an eyelid when she was interrupted mid sentence by a crowd who burst (politely) into our lecture hall to enquire if we had an Andreas in our midst.
Yogi, in a bear suit, straddled him and dry humped his victim to a tune which everyone seemed to know except me, including the guy getting humped who joined in merrily. It was sung unaccompanied, other than from the rhythmical squeak of the chair, to its recipient by the travelling rag committee choir.
Then Andreas had to pay for the privilege and they left as swiftly as they had arrived to find their next victim.
Can anyone tell me if it's a sign of anything, when someone attempts, and indeed succeeds, in putting back together a document that has been through the shredder?
Life...is too sort for such things no matter how you might have wished not to have put your tax disc reminder to the blade before paying it!
It might be too soon to celebrate, but I am beginning to think that the screamers at the bottom of the garden might, just might, be in a transitional phase on their way to using 'indoor voices'. They occupy the property less and less frequently at the moment.
I don't know where they go, nor do I much care but I am hoping against hope that it's not temporary since it has been blissfully peaceful of late.
The mad dogs still bark of course, but one miracle at a time is good enough for me.