Today, I am in the University library.
I had to park in the street on a public road, so it’s a bit of a trek through campus to get to the library. At least I don’t have to run the gauntlet of homeless people, and the parking is free. I like this campus, it is asthetically pleasing. There’s lots of greenery: sports fields edged with trees and foliage. I did my undergraduate degree here. Then, any Tom, Dick or Harry could walk in the library, if they wanted. Now, there’s a turnstile at the entrance and you have to swipe a card to get in. I flash my alumni card at the librarian and I’m in, ready for some brain action. The place is virtually empty. She says they had their exams last week, so they’re all probably still in bed with a hangover. I think this is good. You literally can’t get a seat just before exams, so basically I have a choice of where to sit. I go for my favourite spot on the ground floor next to the windows. My view is grassy knoll and shrubs. I plug in all my appliances and get out my pack of snacking dates. It looks like I’m settled for the day. To get acclimatised I start reading a book about the rise of socialist fiction. This is what I like doing. I toy with the idea of becoming a Professor. People who know me will know I collect stuff. Maybe I should collect letters. There are the same study booths. Maybe I should have carved my name and the date into the woodwork. You know left my mark. I browse the library catalogue. I find my PhD. I did leave my mark.
To cut a long story short: