Campus was pretty deserted, with students squeezing in last minute hangovers and hordes of staff at the Sociology World Cup in Durbs, and the only cheering thing was that Winnie was back, and the queues were short, so coffee ascended in importance. Even Gramsci was keeping a low profile. Despite frequent refills, her hotwater bottle was simply not keeping her bovine bulk sufficiently warm. It was all pretty depressing, really.
And then Tony e/merged from his conferencing distractions and uploaded his Oslo photos to his Flickr site. Nervously the Cow took a peek, poised to brief her lawyers for a defamation suit.
But it was not her lawyers she needed to consult on viewing the photos. It was a trauma counsellor. Seeing the photos surfaced the deeply repressed memories of her swim in the fjord - the memories of a time even colder, even icier, than this, now.
It was all too much for her fragile constitution and she rushed off to the only person who could help in such a situation.
"Winnie!" she gasped as she approached. "A whipless Mocha, please!"