... and it's only fitting that it should be one of our own. It's a much travelled chair: it was my office chair on Oxford. But I can't keep carrying it around for more or less sentimental reasons; I have no desire to keep it in storage with the 72,398 boxes of books that would keep it company; it seems to have a broken spoke; and it has some fresh - well, what I think must be squirrel shit on the back of it. That did it. It was a bad say with the squirrels. Early this morning, one was scurrying over the garage door - and caugt his/her front claw in the spring. It took a long time before it managed to extricate it. And where was it going? Somewhere at the back of the garage is an excited squeaking from a nest of tiny squirrelies! Probably inside an a/c unit that's resting there. I truly don't want to think about it.