Mud, glorious mud

A hard-hat- steel-capped-boots -and-revoltingly -orange -reflective-vest kind of day out at Sydney Uni. Lots of site works going on (off a side road running alongside the Hall), and with all the clayey mud around I swear my boots weighed an extra couple of kilos by the time I'd finished clambering about. The rest of me was pretty generously covered in mud too; I was liberally spattered from the eyes down, in what was no doubt a charming array of earth colours.

At least some of the mud was my own fault. I'd been mucking about with some of the older site workers and was heading a glorious -if tuneless- rendition of Flanders and Swann's Hippopotamus Song, swivelled too quickly whilst belting out the 'mud, glorious mud' part of the chorus, and lost my footing, winding up (cough) over (cough).

Got some strange looks from the fresh-faced, fashionably dressed Uni students I passed when I'd finished my work and was leaving campus (dear god, did I once look that young??). Frankly, I would find being seen in public in the hard hat and vest combo way more embarrassing - looking like I'd just wrestled a pig in its favourite wallow is a doddle by comparison.