I woke up rather fearful this morning after a dream in which I had forgotten to teach any lessons and then ran out of money after ordering several boxes of sausage rolls in a bar. No idea what the second part was about (interpertations welcome), but the forgetting lessons is a recurring nightmare I have at the end of every term. It takes a few days to make the transition from waking up at 6.30 in a confused state to rolling out of bed at 11.00 wondering what type of pastry to consume for breakfast. Which brings me to my second point. Not only is it necessary to adjust your sleeping pattern, some kind of detox is usually in order to repair the damage done by months laced with caffeine and sugary snacks. I say consume a pastry, but actually this morning I drank water with a slice of lemon and ate grapes. It's a vague but necessary attempt to return to some state of fitness and rescue my BMI from the red zone of early death. The lack of food is bearable but the caffeine situation has already resulted in a crushing headache as I sit outside writing this. Temporarily outside of course; my pallid body is too weak for this burst of summer weather. My skin is already well beyond a ruddy glow. Shortly I will be forced to return to the dusty confines of my flat, littered with unmarked essays and unwashed work shirts. This is only day one, and it's certainly no holiday.