Yesterday, as I was approaching the roundabout at the A12/A14 junction from the northbound A12, I observed in a lay-by on the other side of the road, where a coach was parked, with a police car parked in front and another parked behind it. There was a policeman standing in front of the coach taking a photo of the front of the coach.

Why would he be doing this?

The copper chopper’s all very well and good, but does it have to be so loud?

The what?

The CPG. The Catholic Police Guild.

I don’t know specifically why, but the notion fills me with horror and dread.

I lost my mobile phone. Yes, it was alcohol fuelled, as Ex-Flatmate-Colleen put it. It was last Saturday night. Next morning, when C discovered it wasn’t in my bag, I asked him to ring it, so that we’d hear it ringing and we’d know where it was. It was switched off. Which I thought was odd because I’d charged it on Saturday morning and switched it on. On the Monday I phoned (using the landline) the place I been on the Saturday night; they hadn’t found it.

I phoned a taxi company. I didn’t actually know which one to phone, so I phoned the biggest company in Cambridge; they said their drivers hand all lost property in to the police station.

I phoned the police station. They told me I’d need the IMEI number if they had it, so I had to phone my network up. The police gave the number - very good of them, I thought.

I phoned the network; they barred all outgoing calls and gave me the IMEI number.

I phoned the police station again, where they put me through to lost property. Eventually, lost property answered, and they hadn’t got my phone. They’d phone me on the landline if they found it.

They didn’t find it.

So C bought me a new one yesterday because he’s nice like that. It’s the same make as the last one, but of course the charger doesn’t fit, because my old phone is defunct - it doesn’t even appear on the manufacturer’s website anymore. I’ve kept my number by the magic of mobile phonery, and the old one has been magically disassociated with my number. C thinks the microwave oven is black magic, but mobile phonery is truly of the dark arts.

All I need now is some phone numbers…

I got wrong off a policeman yesterday.

Apparently Trinity Street is one way, and it applies to cyclists as well as cars, and if you’re caught going the wrong way, you have to pay a £30 fine.

I pleaded ignorance, and he let me off, although I had to walk my bike the rest of the way to Sidney Street, feeling very sheepish.

I nearly got up on time this morning. I got up an hour later, instead, after dreaming of PopCap games, which I was playing last night. I made a cuppa, but had no breakfast because there wasn’t enough milk for cereal (someone didn’t buy any more when he went to the shop yesterday) and there wasn’t any bread (because someone keeps eating it), although there was a bun left (because I wasn’t quite so gluttonous as someone else), so I made that into a pate, cucumber and home-made cranberry sauce butty and made a bit of salad to have as my dinner (lunch) at Uni, seeing as I had to go there for a meeting to discuss a paper.

After that, I went back to bed, and dreamt that I lived in a house that was overrun with wildlife, including dead and rotted mice (Dusty was rubbish at mousing) and there was mouse poo everywhere, and there were hedgehogs (which say, in a creaky voice, “iiiiiih!”) and there was a grey squirrel, which I picked up whilst wearing gardening gloves and put firmly outside.

Then I got up and showered and got ready, and printed out the paper I was to discuss, that I hadn’t read yet. Looked at the clock, and discovered that if I left any later, I’d be late for the meeting! Shocking. So I left for the meeting, getting petrol on the way. I got a fright at one point, along the A14, because I looked in my rear-view mirror, and there was this police car right behind me, its lights flashing away. I jumped a mile, sped up a bit to get past the lorry and the van I was overtaking and pulled back in. It shot off ahead, not after me at all, because I hadn’t been speeding!

I got to Uni just before 1 o’clock, and went to use the pay and display machine, but it wouldn’t read my card. Downright refused to, it did. Cheeky thing. A woman came up behind me, and I told her what was happening. She tried hers, just in case, and she said it sometimes happens that they don’t work, and we went to try another one. I said I was late enough already, and she said that it only ever happens when you’re late. It’s going to happen to me a lot, then!

I couldn’t remember what room number my meeting was in, so I had to go to a computer room to access either my email or my Google calendar to see. The nearest one (might be Lab A) had a few computers free, but none of them worked. I had to find another one, so I went to Lab G, I think it is. There were free, working machines in there, so I eventually found out where my room was, although I wasn’t certain how to get to it from there, what with it being on floor 5A. You have to be careful which staircase you use to get to floors 5A and 5B. I was on floor 4, so I went up a flight of stairs in the nearest staircase, which took me to 5. I went a bit further up just to see which floor was above, but it was 6, so I exited the stairwell on 5. I came into the space where you get stairs up to 5A and down to 5B - success at finding the floor! Next thing to do was find the room itself, or at least a sign with suitable numbers written on it and a handy arrow. I did find one, so I followed it, and the next and the next - very handy, although then I decided to find an empty seminar room to quickly scan at least the introduction and the conclusion of the paper - I never said I’d had time to read it yet, did I?!

I went in a room along a different corridor, scanned set parts of paper, thought sod it, I’ll really have to go; looked at the time; it was about 10 past. Shit! I thought, I’m awfully late! Turned out it wasn’t a problem that I was late and that I hadn’t read it anyway. I doubt I’d have understood it if I had read it, so that was ok, and after all that room-hunting, we went down to Louisa’s office anyway. We went through the paper together, with Louisa explaining bits and pieces of LFG to me - what do I know about LFG? I really should read the book I have about it. Next meeting (which will be next term), we’re going to discuss the PFM paper that she did in parallel to this one. They’re two parts of the same work, really. I have a much better chance of understanding that one.

After that, I had a mocha with chocolate sprinkles and a Wensleydale and cranberry sarnie (not bad, but not what I was supposed to be eating!) with Kakia, one of Louisa’s students, who I knew from our MAs, who satisfied her chocolate craving with a chocolate eclair and a cup of hot chocolate with chocolate sprinkles. Then, I went back to the first computer room I went to today and emailed Giorgos, telling him in my own way where I was. Then I texted him to make sure he knew I’d emailed him. He called me sarcastic and bossy. We’re off to the SU bar.

I dreamt last night that I got caught speeding by a policeman.

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