Some time ago I was delighted to be invited to serve on the validation panel for a new Masters degree course at a prestigious business faculty within one of our most venerable universities.
I shared the news with Mr F (husband) who was, I’d say, ‘interested’.
I’m pleased to say the new Masters was duly accredited and validated. Time passed.
This morning Mr F was F-ervescent in the extreme. Here’s why. Every weekend he makes our two rescue rabbits, Dave and Poppy, a new ‘twigloo’ for their run. The run is a huge tract of garden fenced-off from threat of passing fox. The twigloo is a construct made a la Ray Mears from brush, twigs, branches etc into a kind of igloo/tepee and a tree stump is added in the centre as a little seat. The rabbits love it, it’s great for teeth (nibbling), exercise, diversion, shelter, play and more – or should I say – amore.
A friend is a veterinary student. She was interested in our rabbit husbandry methods – because they keep teeth and claws in great shape – and the rabbits healthy, active, fit and clean (with access to outside toileting at all times).
Duly a veritable gallery of twigloo images was taken. To Mr F’s delight this was shared with said friend’s lecturer and further shared – ‘via POWER POINT NO LESS – WIFE – IN A LECTURE THEATRE!’ at the session on rabbit husbandry. Plus, apparently, a few of the lady students said ‘Awww’ when the twigloo image (complete with Poppy and Dave in situ) went up on screen as an example of correct care for rabbits. He’s now muttering about miniature cap and gown ceremonies for the rabbits. So then. No contest. Fur play Mr F.