I woke up feeling hard done by because it is a Bank Holiday in the UK. I had already missed the traditional Oxford May Morning celebrations, when Magdalen choir sings from the College tower and there is dancing in the streets, and now I was missing my day off.

This was not entirely reasonable, since every day for a fortnight has been a day off for me, but today that is about to end. I have a “job”. I have put it in inverted commas (that’s quotes to Yanks) because it is possible that it is only a rumour – I don’t have a job title, job description, contract, or anything else in writing; no one has asked for my social security number and none of my employers is likely to be around when I report to the office later today.

I did think I might find out a little more about their projects at a community meeting planned for last Saturday, which I risked my life getting to, on account of bicycling on the wrong side of the road. Sig.ra La Kitchenette, a board member of the local non profit that has “hired” me, was meant to give a slide show about their work. Seven people stood in the car park (parking lot) for half an hour, but Sig.ra did not arrive. There was no meeting and I am none the wiser, yet.