Just a quick note because it is Saturday and terribly busy.
We did not wake up until it was almost dark again and I can’t tell you how lovely it feels now. After ten hours’ sleep I have completely stopped loathing my customers, and I am not having the smallest difficulty in calculating their change.
This is bliss.
I don’t care if it was idle.
In other news, I have had an email which has pleased me enormously. I think it unlikely that many of my readers will have been following events at Cambridge with any interest, but I do because obviously they are interesting if you are me.
Cambridge has adopted some ghastly loathsome policies of burning books with which they disagree and refusing invitations to speakers who think that only girls are girls. A lone heroic professor, Dr. Arif Ahmed, has stood against this tide, and all lecturers or students who secretly think that freedom of speech and the exchange of ideas really matter, but don’t dare say so any more, have hidden behind him. The august Daily Telegraph quotes him whenever they want to have a dig at rubbish university wokeism, and he has actually managed to get some of the more dreadful policies overturned.
Yesterday he wrote to me.
He did not actually write to me. I do not mean that he had noticed me in the corridor and thought he would just drop me a line. In fact it was merely a courteous response to the admiring email I had sent to him, but it was as if God had popped round too thank me personally for my childhood renditions of All Things Bright And Beautiful, or if Donny Osmond had answered my fan letters, and I was very pleased indeed.
It has sharpened my resolve not to accept craven cowardly refusal to listen to argument at Cambridge any more, and I have occupied the early part of this evening penning letters to Lucy Cavendish condemning their vile book-destruction activities.
I imagine I will be chucked out in the end.
I don’t care about that either.
I am feeling newly energised and encouraged.
I am also busy, because it is Bonfire Night, and the world is full of families in wellies and bobble hats who don’t fancy walking home.
I will see you tomorrow
