Oh the sweet sweet sound of printer wheels...

[Emma]

It's beautiful, isn't it? Like a newborn baby, gleaming in its delicate black-on-white freshness. And like birth, you've been up all night in excruciating pain after enduring cravings for lots of food you know you shouldn't eat. Like birth you feel as though a great deal of pain inflicted on the man who put you in this predicament would not go amiss. And when it finally slides out you gasp with relief, at that alien hour of the night, you feel like calling everyone you know to tell them that it's finally arrived, and what a relief with it being a week overdue, but it's 4am and you can't find a telephone anywhere. And in an ideal world of course, noisy mobiles would be as rigorously banned in computer classrooms as they are in hospitals.

But I don't ever remember hearing the midwife talk about the terrible time when one of the printers was jammed and the other one was equally buggered in a more subtle and frustrating way.

Or having to walk over to the ELT in the rain, to find out with relief that the printers there were working, in a word, beautifully.

But oh, but ah, never mind, the world is floaty and carefree once more and after a while your clothes will fit. Just one more formality; it has to go for a checkup by a suitably qualified person, but hopefully your little darling will get the OK.

And then you can breathe easy once more. Until the next time, that is...

[Thackary]

Emma dear, you either need a lot more sleep, or an epidural.

[Chris Satterley]

The sense of satisfaction only comes with a laserjet, inkjets just don't cut it.