The fresh air was probably a major contributory factor, perhaps aided by a few glasses of Shiraz, but last night’s/this morning’s sleep was peppered with moments of dreams, all of which would have brought feelings of anguish and loss, had they occurred in real life.

Firstly there was losing my iPad in a bet with a good friend. Disbelief at the bet being cashed was met with horror at his dismissal of the device: “This is shit compared to my Galaxy Tab.” How DARE he! I pondered ways of finding a replacement.

Moving on swiftly, I had to give a talk to my old research group, only it was one the new research groups that I now work with as an administrator. Something to do with thyroxine isoforms, comparison to hCG, other work on the glycoforms of FSH and LH, how they change in quantity and quality in various physiological states and pathologies (find out just how on Pubmed). How I couldn’t care less about any of it and was thankful of the open-air presentation in Swinton’s Fountain Square was interrupted by a load of football fans and then a load of playful dogs. I had a discussion about the best methods of clearing away dog poo.

And there was Clive, poor, trusty Clive the weeping fig. I’d taken him along to my presentation, but he met his demise there. You can’t mend a weeping fig with sellotape.

Even thought it was only 9am, I was glad to wake up. My iPad is still with me, Clive is still intact, and I can go through the rest of my life safe in the knowledge that I’ll never have to explain chromatofocusing or lectin chromatography to anyone ever again.