Lord of the Manor

I have a room in my flat. I have an office. A room in my parents' house contains lots of my things. These are the three little pieces of world over which I control (sort of), and as a result they are all a great big mess. Each one is disorganised and filthy, in desperate need of a good dusting, and largely impossible to usefully do anything in. Further, since

a) I'll be moving in September,
b) my mum has plans for a guest room,
c) I have to vacate my office in a fortnight for redecoration,

each of my little dominions will soon enough need to be gutted, stripped bare of tat and shite, hoovered and cleaned, then repopulated with as much of the rubbish as I can bear not to part with.

Algebraic Geometry is unpleasant. But not as unpleasant as cleaning and sorting, and therefore I've been getting plenty of work done. However I have made a small start on the sorting. My mighty collection of change (pennies and tuppencess and fives) has been counted. The grand total came to just under fifteen pounds. Let nobody call me autistic.

I've just been teaching revision sessions for advanced highers students. The students are therefore 17 or 18 and among the cleverer schoolgoers. And one of them still managed to fall of an entirely static chair. How I despair! (Not really.)