The main entrance to the University of Reading is at Shinfield Road. This is where I enter and leave the campus. Between the Shinfield Gate and my office there stretches a patch of grass on which three football or rugby games can take place at once. It takes me about three minutes to walk over all that grass. Since Sunday, when I returned to Reading and the campus, I have acquired the habit of taking off my sandals and walking across the sports field in my bare feet. The pleasure is immense, and especially in the morning, when the grass is wet and the ground is cold. This morning, which promises to be fair, the grass was particularly wet and cold. Like ablution before prayer.

Addendum I (August 30, 2000)

I will not be able to do this much longer. Less than three weeks after I began walking barefoot through the Whiteknights sports field, it is already considerably colder, even when the weather is good. The grass was so cold this morning that my feet got almost numb. The joy of walking barefoot was that much greater because of the knowledge that this might be the last time this season.

Addendum II (September 6, 2015)

Amazingly, walking barefoot on the sports field grass on my way to and from my office is the fondest memory I have of my fourteen years at the University of Reading. According to this piece, the habit was established only four years before I left Reading. For some reason, this strikes me as quite surprising. The memory is so powerful that I imagine myself walking barefoot through the grass for many more years—say, at least ten. The only place where I can do the same ever since leaving Reading is Zrinjevac, a park in the center of Zagreb. But each time I feel grass under my bare feet, I think of Reading once again. And I talk about it at quite some length whenever an opportunity presents itself.