The subversiveness of which made it all the more pleasant. The outside world shut out tightly, people discussed What Really Mattered.
Space.
The space wars had gone quiet, and it looked as if Prof Ritalin might have won that round. The Cow joked that the tent the Department was to have been moved into on the rugby field had blown away during the previous week's storms.
"A jumping castle!" demanded Prof Castle. "We want a jumping castle!" "That would be fun," admitted Dr Green, "but we'd have to make a rule about no high heels!"
The Cow, between musing about why the plural of stiletto was not stiletti, was being distracted by the image of bearded academics bouncing around on a jumping castle in stilettos. It was the kind of picture that could be used to scare small children, she was sure.
"Prof Wind-up has a big bouncy ball in his office!" remarked Dr Green. "He uses it to sit on. Except it doesn't stay still!"
"Does it have those handles to hold onto?" asked Prof Castle, curiously.
The Cow could picture the queue forming outside Prof Wind-up's office of colleagues wanting to test drive his bouncy ball down the passages.
Rather like the Andy Scooters at InterMedia, she mused. Perhaps if they spent the departmental grant on some of those, she thought, they could hold races, and performance appraisal, rfj and ad hom would be so much simpler!