Locked in

Soon, we'll be locked into the asylum, and we'll have thrown away the key. I wrote about my feelings in another place.. No need to repeat it all again here. Suffice it to say, I'm feeling increasingly desperate and even hysterical. As I said there - only the lock is shiny. The bit that locks us in. Everything else is scratched and rusty. Or some sort of superficially attractive pink scrawl, which is actually utterly meaningless. What a good metaphor.

I blame Brexit for a difference of emphasis about academic cultures this morning ('difference of emphasis' is how my son's late father used to describe screaming matches in Exeter Labour Party in the 1980s...). I blame Brexit for feeling nauseous (or possibly something I ate on Monday evening, because to be honest I'm feeling a bit better today). I particularly blame Brexit for the shitty weather which meant that Projekt42 had a flood yesterday and so cancelled this evening's classes (including a Flow Yoga one that I was going to take) in order to do essential maintenance.

There is nothing that cannot be blamed on that stupid small minded act of political self-belittlement.