It's the first day of teaching and the silence is eerie. Like pigeons' magnetic navigation lobes, academics have an inbuilt calendar. I knew teaching started today because I slept badly, and in the few minutes of repose I did snatch, I had a series of anxiety dreams, mostly featuring me being late or underprepared. Oh wait, they weren't dreams. They were memories. Or prophesies.
Stoke City's craven surrender to Sunderland (Sunderland! After beating Liverpool and drawing with Chelsea) didn't add to my good humour, though the All-Ireland final was rather exciting, even as Gaeilge and Ireland's demolition of Australia's rugby union team was highly amusing.
I made a desultory attempt to clean my desk this morning, and came across a colleague's visual explanation of our Myth module. Most of them are far too obscene for publication on a family blog, but here's his depiction of Cassandra.