There’s no snow lying on the pavements (on James Street), but rooftops, walls, leaves, parked autos, and fences are dusted. I decided last night not to run this morning, so I permitted myself an extra hour’s sleep. This definitely seems like a good thing. I look forward to some sweet rest between terms.
This afternoon, there’s a lecture by the great Paul Gilroy on ‘Race-thinking and the Half-life of Atlantic Slavery,’ after which I’ll hasten home to dress for the Edward King Dinner at St Stephen’s House (to which I’m invited as the spouse of Visiting Tutor Margaret Adam). If I were the sort of person to resolve awkwardness by drinking, I would likely be deep in my cups tonight, but instead I expect I’ll just smile a lot and say, ‘No, I don’t have anything lined up after this year.’