When I was in grad school, a fellow student--we'll call her Annika, because that was her name--was involved in a lot of activities that didn't really have much bearing on her studies. She was Greek, and married to an American businessman. She also had a rather large number of male admirers who followed her around much of the time. In warm weather, she'd spend a few hours a day sunbathing in Central Park in a bikini.
During my time at the Toot, it was our custom to prepare elaborate teas on Friday afternoon. Originally, the school secretary provided actual tea and undistinguished sherry. But when work began on reconstructing the library, which made everyone's lives harder, students took over. At first different academic specialties did the honors, but as time passed, the organization became somewhat looser. But team membership became more consistent, and there was considerable rivalry. A good deal of tasty food was offered, and better booze was provided.
One Friday, Annika appeared with her husband and trays and trays of baklava. Incredible quantities. It turned out she and the husband had stayed up all night two days in a row to make them. We were grateful, naturally, and they were very good.
The husband filed for divorce a few weeks later. I guess the baklava was the tipping point.
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