The world from my window

The thing about so-called 'portfolio careers' is that, sometimes, an important document - which you've worked hard to produce - falls out of your metaphorical ring binder. That's just happened to me - by choice - but it's still pretty strange not to be doing that particular job, which is one I've actually enjoyed very much. Still, times change and we move with them, or risk being left behind. So I hand in my keys and laptop and literally (yes, really literally) feel a weight lift from my shoulders, which is probably because I am always carrying said laptop in a tote bag over my right arm. At last, my posture comes back. I can walk again. Onwards and upwards. I go into WH Smith and get myself an academic diary (which runs from July 2017 to the end of August 2018) so I can turn over a new leaf. I want to start on a fresh page. I shop in Waitrose for what probably will be the last time for a while and restrict myself to buying biodegradable dog poo b...

I have fallen out of love with one of the most delightful characters in children's literature. A week or so ago, Peter Rabbit, that naughty but lovable blue-jacketed bunny, waltzed right into my house and got completely inside my head. A couple of days later, he's done my head in completely and managed to get right up my nose. I was studying hard on Saturday, trying to pad out a 2,000-word Open University essay on why children's picturebooks appeal equally to adults. I was using Peter Rabbit to illustrate my points. Two thousand bloody words, I ask you. There is only so much you can say. But I really shouldn't take it out on Peter Rabbit for my mistake in studying a level three degree course in children's literature. I realise now, for me, all that analysis and intellectual argument takes the magic away. I just think: 'What a load of absolute bollocks.' So when Pelly Sheepwash instant messaged me across my laptop and asked if I fancied helping her to look fo...