So. My facebook account has a password which deliberately I no longer know. My bike was stolen last night, and last night the ducklings, long awaited, were born. ‘They are so cute’, says H, ‘ that I want to eat them’. The crows are watching, and waiting, patiently. The porters are on permanent stand-by, caring far more, and understandably, for they are cuter, for ducks than they do for us. We celebrated when we found them this morning, half way through today’s painful Troilus and Criseyde translation session, stuck and cheeping in a concrete ditch amongst the brambles. Porter John ladled them out with his large hands, very joyfully. I thought maybe there would be none this year, given the three male to one female duck ratio, and the violent, sexually charged mass male duck attacks which have been happening early in the mornings in empty courts. There are nine of them, and my new bike is prettier and taller than the last, with shiny white mud-guards.