Prof. Alexander’s bust has long graced the entrance hall of the building on Manchester’s campus that bears his name. This kind of thing happens most years, to be honest. He seems to bear it with stoic dignity. I don’t think he looks all that unhappy — a bit resigned, maybe.
More Christmas decoration, this time our annual harvesting of one of the house’s copious collection of sheep skulls for the usual Gothic effect. I spent all day at home working, but now I’m done. Christmas, whatever that means or represents — here we are.
‘Tis the Sunday before Christmas, and by now it is obligatory for every commercial establishment to have decorated somehow. But so be it — our decorations are up at home as well.
Being 42 