Seven years in UCD
October morning, and the doors of academia have opened again to the scholars. You remember how, on a day over forty years now gone, this same morning broke wet and blustery for you. Blotches of damp showed up on the walls of the old university and dark clouds hung in the sky. The Indian summer that everyone had been praising was routed overnight. The day before, as on every previous day, the sun had shone on roads where nothing seemed to change, where the light on the slightly yellowed trees would remain sleepily the same forever. That day, leaves lay wet underfoot and people walked suddenly full of resolve. For you, the student, the changed weather seemed somehow appropriate to the new life upon which you were embarking – the gravity of it, the putting away of frivolity.
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