Titter ye not

Dot you eyes, cross your teas, hook your effs.

Imperial students can often be rubbish at distinguishing between t and f because they fail to make the hook at the top of the latter.

If yes, give details of the injury: tell titty metres down

I don’t know what titty metres are, but since I’m an old perv, I like the sound of this sort of measurement.

The same student starts his letter Dear Lutty or Luffy or Lufty or Lutfy. I cannot say which.

No real howlers in the exams I’ve been marking, but no real surprise given the singular lack of imagination among my little darlings.

We lighten the camp fire… and [we chat and laugh] all over the night.

Pet irritation of the writing, “I think friends can never be enough”. Second pet irritation: handwriting which is minuscule and nearly illegible. Students! This is not a strain you want to place on me – if you know what I mean. What? You have no idea what I mean. Sigh.

I’ve been fairly strict about my marking this time. Normally I don’t bother enforcing word limits on the summaries or the layout of single-line answers, but I’m being a bastard because the little darlings need a good kick in the tender parts.

You may not know it, but Oxford University is made up of castles. Move over, dreaming spires, the turrets have arrived. (Yes a comma; I though a semicolon was a bit much.)

Meanwhile, that dratted woman has been officially welcomed on board. I hope she merely has an advisory capacity. I’m also hoping that the approach of the final exams (all too close) will keep her out of my hair (and everyone else’s).