The British climate has suddenly remembered that it is November and that our end of the planet is veering ever away from all things warm and well-lit. From my office window, I watched some brave few of our students pick up their placards and join the March protesting the new student fee increases. I hear that by the time they got down to Whitehall it had all gone A Tad Mayhem. Which deliciously increases the irony that my main thought, on seeing them all lined up and ready to go, was ‘bless the poor kittens, hardly any of them are wearing hats. They’ll all have earache by lunch-time.’
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I talk too much