Don winked - and was sure that Mike’s smile faltered.

Gravestown was only 40 minutes out of London on the high-speed link, making relocation thankfully unnecessary and early starts simple - if costly. Mike walked onto the campus for the second time in his life.

On this trip, without interview nerves to distract him, Mike had the chance to take in details of the Arts Soc-Sci Hums (ASH) faculty building. There was a library where he would finally receive a membership card that was colour-coded for ‘staff’, after years of being ‘student’; there was a coffee bar where (he didn’t yet know) he would be unable to find the protein shakes and salads he liked; there were gender-neutral toilets where … Mike took this last set of facilities in with a very brief glance and a small, anxious, frown. He’d never used the gender-neutral option in his life.

“Morning”, said Don, sitting at a tidy desk behind the door marked Faculty Administration Matrix / ASH-FAM. He put his phone face-down, with care.

Don appraised the visitor - this must be the new guy. Looks timid. Who wouldn’t, on their first day in this hellhole?

“I’m Dr Michael Williams. I mean, I’m Mike.”

Don grinned.

“I’m Don. And I guess I am the Don around here. They’ll all tell you that everything’s on the website, but trust me - it isn’t. Anything at all you need to know - come to me”. Don winked - and was sure that Mike’s smile faltered. The wink hadn’t been a blokeish, matey one, but a teeny bit flirty. That was intentional - as was the double-entendre, of course. Friendly. Playful. For heavens’ sake - was this going to be yet another academic who didn’t know the difference between office banter and harassment?

Dr Michael Williams looked awkward, that was for sure.

“Erm, thanks. Isn’t there a handbook or something?”

Oh, bless him, a handbook. He’s really going to need me. Probably be in my office every 5 minutes with questions, this one.

“Oh no - we’re a paperless office. Everything’s meant to be online. But good luck finding it. That’s why they need me around here. Well, that and 5 million other reasons”.

Don grinned cheerily, and paused, to allow Mike to pick up the conversation; but Mike just pulled a smile that looked forced - timid even, and offered a minimal, polite,

“Thanks”.

Don watched as Mike’s eyes looked around the office and then met, not Don’s face, but his clean and tidy desk. Mike said quietly,

“I’d better go now. Dean’s induction”.

Don sighed, as he watched Mike check his watch and head off down the yellow corridor. Don hoped that Mike knew where to find the Dean’s office and that he’d make it on time for his induction meeting. Don could have given Mike so many heads-ups for that.

I first drafted this novel ms a gazillion years ago. Life became very lifey. I’m back on it and determined now to Get This Fucker Finished for 2026.

What do you want to know? Ask, if there’s anything. I have a full draft, list of characters, synopsis, if you’re interested. Even a query letter that I was forced to compose at a writing workshop back in 2023. Sod that, I’m doing it self-pub or indie now.

I changed narrator voice several times (Mike’s mum POV; impersonal omniscient; multiple) and am still smoothing text from all those shifts; you’ll notice infelicities of tense, voice, and formatting around that. Sorry. You might even spot some head-hopping (please God no, surely I’ve not?) I’ve settled on using close 3rd for a few main characters and impersonal for minors; and impersonal for whenever we’re alone with Mike. I’ll never go into his head.

All this feels like knitting an Aran cable jumper - and I’m a crocheter, not a knitter. Money no object, I’d be hiring an editor right about 2 years ago.

Themes include: post-neolib institutional hellholes; miseries of the specifically academic sort; diversities of several kinds, and some of them do not play nicely together; projections and (mis)representations; absurdities; personal change and maturing.

Dr Mike Williams meets his PhD student, Izzie