A Phudder's life for me

After the first day at one’s new job, college, course, whatever, when one arrives home, shell-shocked, exhausted, hyper, one expects to be asked by one’s Hubby how one got on. Alternative niceties are, “Did you have fun,” or maybe, “Did you meet some nice people?” Not in this house. After my first day as a Phudder (that’s PhD student to you), Hubby asked, “Did you behave yourself?”

Hubby had spent the day glued to his phone expecting a call from campus, asking him to come collect his belligerent charge who was disrupting proceedings and wouldn’t respond to normal disciplinary measures.

“I wasn’t that bad,” I whined, sucking my thumb between sips of gin. “All I did was throw my toys around at the vegan lunch, admonish a professor for not being in full possession of the facts, and lecture two students for being too uncritical in their research. “Aw cr-p,” said Hubby. “At least they didn’t ask me what my pronouns were,” I added, trying to placate him. “Thank God for small mercies,” he sighed.

Firstly, the lunch. The little man behind the hot trays offered me vegan this, vegan that, and vegetarian (I concede) the other. Wot no meat, asked I? He glowered. I went, eeny meeny miney mo, and ended up with cauliflower and cous cous, with cous cous salad as a side and stodgy bread. I took my tray to a table and sat down next to two people I’d met earlier that morning. I picked up my knife and fork and held them over my plate, not knowing whether to bother going any further.

“Our menus are vegetarian and vegan by default,” explained one of the tutors round the table. “Whose fault is that?” I quipped back. “I’m delighted,” she continued, “I’m vegan.” I couldn’t help myself and responded, “I identify as a carnivore. My pronouns are lion and tiger.”  The fellow newbie Phudder next to me roared with laughter. I think we’re going to be buddies.

Later that afternoon, during a break-out session, another Phudder explained her research, something to do with employee responsibilities. “What if the employees are wrong?” I asked innocently. She looked like I’d tripped her up on the sports field. Another Phudder was researching the lot of Victorian workers with reference to Charles Dickens. "He had an agenda, you know,” I proffered. Dear me. Norman Bites-yer-legs Hunter had nothing on me.

Next in my sights was a professor who started on sewage spills. That conversation didn’t last long either.

Then the tables turned when I was asked about my project: “Aircraft noise in rural areas,” I announced proudly. “Is it an issue?” asked a researcher in Greek poetry. “Not when Troy was a village,” I parried.

Anyway I don’t give a Phud, because my new buddy is researching ladies' sport. She plans to be on campus twice a week. So do I.