Friday 8th November 2024, 6.10pm (day 4,824)
My PhD student of the last five years, Sara, passed her viva voce examination today — with only minor corrections, a very good result (for a good thesis, I honestly did think) — and so took me out to dinner at a Turkish restaurant in Manchester. The place’s waiters definitely had an overblown sense of theatrics. Salman, Sara’s son, looks somewhat apprehensively at one of them striding towards us with the kind of flamethrower that, if carried outside, would probably see him arrested for branding an offensive weapon. All this just to put a second or two of extra charring on the spicy meatballs. Food was good, though.
Being 42 