Equinox

I caught the cat to work this morning. Sat at the stern and watched the wake spread out across the river as rainbows danced in the spray. It's a glorious sunny day, warm but not too warm, clear, occasional innocuous fluffy clouds, and a lilting breeze. It is far too nice a day to be taking notes about sick children and awful childhood diseases.

In front of me two rows and to the left one student has already fallen asleep while others stare glazedly forward or, like me, unfurl their laptops with expressions of studied interest as they begin playing minesweeper or solitaire.

I have always maintained that Autumn is my favourite season to be a student. The air is bright and crisp, the pace of life moves up a notch as brains and bodies hustle for warmth, and the liveliness in the air inspires some sort of *crackle* in me that makes me want to learn and experience and grow.

But on warm sultry mornings where there is no bite in the air but instead a lazy cosseting heat I dream of warm stone walls, grapes ripening and bursting with sweetness, light ocean breezes and a hammock under a tree. One leg casually hanging over the side to kick the ground to keep me swaying, a book opened on my lap and the one I love sleeping softly beside me.