Depopulated

I'm on my way to the gym (gradually...), where I expect to have my choice of machines, especially at this hour. It's official: the undergraduate mass exodus has happened.

As some might put it, the baby children are gone.

It's strange to walk into the gym and not hear the whine of several treadmill belts (I don't know why, but certain machines emit a high-pitched whine above 7 km/h or so), and to not see some of the more risque ensembles I've come to recognize over the past semester. Still, there will always be the old fellow with the bad knees and the blue paper towel tied around his head, and the middle-aged man who thinks it's appropriate to wear a midriff-baring shirt and short shorts, to keep me entertained.

I hear the library is similarly dead, especially after we watched half the undergraduate body move into it as a horde last month. (Really, think camping. It was worse than the D'port library at finals time - at least the Master gave us snacks and a constant supply of coffee. These guys looked up at you and glowered if you breathed too heavily, but then again, some of them were taking a full year's worth of finals in May. I don't understand the Scottish system.) I can only imagine what a ghost town Pollock must be at the moment, but then that's what summer school is for...