I have so much to say and no time to say it. Everyone wants a piece of me. Could someone please remind me why I agreed to be chair? Oh yes! I had no choice. And as soon as my slightly junior colleague gets tenure — haw haw — it’s hers. Payback for those nice departmental letters. Meanwhile, I pay for mine.
All I want to say now is boo hiss to anyone who is too snobby to admit that Puccini is the master. Too crowd pleasing, they say. Too sentimental. What absolute rot! I sit alone in the evenings, listening to Madame Butterfly, and I cannot get over it. A world where this didn’t exist would be ridiculously poorer.