Winter Holidays, Full House

Wednesday night. Winter holidays, and Melbourne is cold enough that the first-years arrive in three scarves each and take a quarter of an hour to unwind them.

A birthday party of eleven came today. Eight is the most the lecture hall will take, so the other three went into another room in the same building, booked to start at the very same moment, and they all met again afterwards to compare notes. The birthday boy chose to stay with me. I was touched. He said it was because of the owl. I am the owl.

Holiday sessions go quickly, the front desk tells me, and parents who wait until the morning of the party are often disappointed. The wise ones book weeks ahead.

The cake was shaped like a cauldron. Nobody offered me any. I am told owls do not eat cake. I would have liked to be asked.