Nothing in the world beats coming home to a creature that is utterly overjoyed to see you. Same in the morning. You wake up and the first thing you see is someone who is over the moon to see you, no matter how little a morning person you are. I know it's just for food and company, but who cares, I opt to take it personal. Chomsky is a bit worried though, he looks ill, and freezes as soon as he sees the dog. Sometimes it's hard to tell whether he's alive or dead. And if Chomsky is worried, so am I. He's the main man after all.
Since nobody left any suggestions as to lighthearted books to read, I've decided on two: Bill Bryson A Small History to Almost Everything and Refusal Shoes. I've forgotten who wrote that but you can be sure it'll pop up on your left. The latter is about immigration officers in Britain and asylum seekers, but apparently it's funny nonetheless. I also watched Pot Luck (L'auberge Espagnole) last night, which I have to say was utterly enjoyable, made me keen bucketloads and brought back both memories of my first year(s) abroad as a student, and showed me just why I feel so mixed up and that I'm just normal. Living in two countries is a blessing and a curse. Living in four in my case is making a mess of anything formaly known as identity or belonging. So there's the new theory courtesy of Cartside: At the end of the day your mind makes up its own decision and tells you where you belong and don't even dare to question that or you'll get a bout of depression. Or you'll see Erasmus everywhere you go.
Not gaga yet. Just a bit confused. Normal.
Oh, and there's lots of news about all the refugee policies, teaching ESOL Literacies, Community Councils (you see, I've been busy!) but I'll keep that for another time.