Daylight is gorgeous.
Standing on the corner of Abercromby Square in warm sunshine discussing the Philosophy of Mathematics with Kate and Emma and Steve.
Liverpool has me in its thrall.
As a model of academia it seems to be suffering from the ubiquitous plague of bureaucracy gone bonkers. No one has their library card, departments fail to communicate with each other, and the online learning system is on meltdown. Who cares?
I’ve secretly been looking at property in the Georgian Quarter. It’s a cross between Oliver! and the Forsythe Saga. Cobbled streets, Coalbrookdale lamposts, and Regency railings evoke a different era. I picture the Mersey crammed with bobbing traffic, and the railway newly built, and the new cotton millionaires building their magnificent mansions.
I want to live in Falkner Square. But I know that Eli will never have it. Well, maybe not never.