stitched

So, I’ve just sent my dissertation to be bound. Everyone’s been telling me how I’ll feel when I give it in – relieved, panicked, ill. But honestly, I just feel sad.

Sad because I’ve loved uni, and because, to me, this feels like the culmination of three years’ work and life and tears and hysterical laughter.

I had my last seminar this morning too, with one of my favourite tutors, and I can’t beat away the feeling that it’s all, well, ending.

It is, I know it is, it’s exam period and I knew it was coming to an end. I just didn’t feel like it was. But somehow, giving in that little pile of paper to be stitched together felt a bit like saying goodbye.

And I’m not ready for that yet.

aghast

Just come out of a seminar and now have an hour before my next lecture, so thought I would slump into the nearest computer cluster to do some online offloading.

Turns out I am not the English Literature proficient that I previously hoped I might be, as the vast majority of that seminar went straight over my head. Dreadful. I sat there nodding banally and taking notes furiously as people with a far vaster intellect than I can ever hope to accumulate made inciteful, probing, and - to me at least - almost incomprehensibly intelligent points about a critical essay which may as well have been written in Swahili for all I understood it.

So I'm now sat here, squatting behind an LCD monitor glancing furtively about, fearful of being exposed for the cerebral fraud that I am.

Still, I've got a children's literature lecture up next - we're studying Five Children and It this week. Much more on my level, evidently.

books

I took a trip to Blackwells today to buy another couple of books for my modules this semester (yeah, I know it's more expensive that way, but I'm one of those people who likes to - you know - have the smell of a bookshop in my nose as I browse). The first was this little delight:

Not exactly a saucy riot, but actually surprisingly interesting. Now, I know you're not supposed to judge a book etc., but this isn't exactly a cover to set your heart pounding. But I must admit that I enjoyed it much more than I thought I would - it's got some interesting (and some barmy) ideas.

The second (for my children's lit module) was much more appealing:

Now, any book with a Quentin Blake on the cover is enough for me, but more than that I love its shape. Tricky to tell from the picture, but it's actually shorter (height-wise) than a standard-sized book. It's stocky and cuddly enough to make losers like me salivate on sight. It set my fingers a-trembling, let me tell you.

Puffin Classics have obviously done a bit of a revamp, and I would love to have been there when they decided what to change. How do they come up with these things? I imagine the meeting: "Hey, guys, I've got an idea - why don't we just make them shorter?" Genius. 

Anyway, enough of that geekishness.