After a two year break due to pandemic restrictions, conference season was once more in full swing. I joined the throng in the registration queue, looking forward to dropping off my case in my hotel bedroom and seeing the colleagues that I had missed over the past two years.
I was very disappointed with room 51. It was a long way from the main building in a field, on top of a small hillock. When I opened the door I found that it was a soil burrow rather than a bedroom, and that I was expected to wear a felt horse’s head hood when inside.
BD was also upset with a couple of other arrangements: (1) that the terms of my visa forced me to leave the country after five days and this meant that I couldn’t join him on a post-conference holiday, and (2) that I hadn’t finished writing the slides for my paper, so I would not be able to socialise with him before my presentation slot.