This morning, I hurried downtown to meet with the Dean of the Diocese of Glasgow and Galloway (the episcopal see is vacant for now, and the diocese is led by the Dean, who is not (as in US polity) the “rector” of a cathedral, but is a senior cleric in the diocese; the cathedral’s senior cleric is a Provost). We had a convivial half hour’s conversation, at the end of which time he deemed me safe to turn loose upon the diocese. I hastened from there back to my office in time to greet several students (I’m in charge of signing requests for extensions for the department, and right about now that makes me the object of a lot of attention), have a quick conversation with the Head of Department, grab a bite of lunch with a neighboring scholar, connect with a student to talk over the preceding assignment and discuss the next, scramble to class (where I could be in the same place addressing the same topic for two blessed consecutive hours), headed back to the office to gather my paperwork for home, and stride purposefully back to the flat.
At the entranceway to the block of flats, I saw (for the third time) a fox. Evening had already fallen, so I had only the illumination of the light pole, but you can see the fox’s eyes reflecting back at me from the bushes.
And then he scampered away, perhaps to besiege the neighbor’s last remaining chicken.