Reading. Between novels I’m studying, reference books about the novels I’m studying, the odd book ‘for fun’ that I can cram in, my old lecture notes, my own writing, the odd blog, old magazines, emails, texts, I’m just overrun with words at the moment! At the moment I’m reading The Day of the Triffids.
Assignments. Before May 20th I need to have written a 2500 word essay on the nature of contemporary fiction, a 2000 word essay on communities under pressure in 1930s literature, a 3000 word essay on the opposition between the country and the city in 1930s literature, a 5000 word creative writing portfolio, a 1500 word experimental writing portfolio and a 1000 word commentary on it. I feel exhausted just typing that all up! I have it all in hand at the moment so the panic has not set in yet, and I just keep chipping away at it as best I can.
Lectures and seminars. The last ones, ever! The realisation that I’m not coming back to uni next year hasn’t hit me yet.
Cooking. I’ll be Nigella before you know! I made some lovely red lentil & chickpea soup, which is possibly one of the most filling things ever. I have a healthy appetite, shall we say, and yet I ate an average sized bowl of this soup without any bread and wasn’t hungry for the next six hours. Result, considering I had a long day in uni and always resent paying for food on campus. I also made some simple but truly delicious pasta, which is quite something considering pasta is usually something I fail at, and something I had resigned myself to eating either plain or with shop bought pesto. I used tagliatelle, the sauce was just Philadelphia melted with a decent dollop of grainy mustard, with mushrooms and onions fried in butter and garlic. I accept any accusations that this dish is simple, boring and perhaps not incredibly healthy. All I know is that I made it to use things up and only made a little bit expecting it to taste a bit sad, and ended up making the same thing two days later! In sad food news, my boyfriend and I cooked together the other weekend. We were having steak and he insisted on cooking them, what with being a man and all that. I asked for mine medium rare. I like it bloody. What he served me was a pretty fine example of a well done piece of meat. Now I’m no steak snob, I take what I’m given and at the end of the day, it’s a honking great slab of meat, I can’t complain too much! But I was a bit disappointed with this as I had been dreaming about my bloody steak for days. Also I’ve been eating an impressive amount of takeout. Bad Emdawg! Slap my wrists indeed. Also today I bought a red pear which I’m really rather excited about!
Socialising. By which I mean going out and getting drunk. I can’t let essays be my entire life! I went to a rock & indie club night which was impressively priced - £1 in, £1 vodka and coke, £1 Sambuca – but a bit dire due to the fact that I requested a song and the DJ refused it on the grounds that ‘it’s not indie enough.’ Vom. We witnessed a man run out of the club and halfway up the street, pursued by bouncers, and eventually saw him being tackled to the ground by another grown man, and carried back to the club in a headlock. We later learned that he had pulled the taps off the sinks in the toilets and purposely flooded them. What a horrible creature he must be. I went to a White Trash themed house party, at which I looked phenomenal, obviously. At this party I had a wonderful time, except for an unfortunate incident in which I was dancing on a sofa with a friend, she fell over and fell into me, I fell off the couch, my hand fell in the doorframe and my body fell against the door, effectively trapping my own hand in the door with a considerable amount of force. This incident involved a great deal of blood and over a week later my middle finger is still swollen up like a sausage.
|Where ma bitchez at?|
|My unscathed and chavtastic hands, before 'the incident'.|
Planning. I have planned a day trip to Whitby while I’m at home over Easter. I no longer have a car so I’m going to sweet talk a friend into driving. I want to paddle, write my name in the sand, go on the Captain Cook boat ride, go to the Dracula Experience, climb the 199 steps, walk under the whalebone arch, eat fish and chips, play on the penny arcades, and buy some tat. I have a bit of a thing about Whitby. I am also slowly forming an action plan for my post-graduation life. My most exciting plan is my little ‘cultural excursion’ (not a holiday!) to Italy in August. So far, we have booked flights, and this is all. We know that we’re flying to Rome and flying back from Venice, and we’re there for 10 days, and we want to visit Pompei, Florence, and Verona. I want to touch Juliet’s boob. We also want to eat as much gelato as humanly possible, especially from Grom while we’re in Venice. We’re going to stay in youth hostels in every place other than Pompei, where this is a particular hotel we’d like to stay in and will spring a bit more money for, and we’re going to travel by train. I’m trying to master a very basic level of conversational Italian in order to not be the Brit Abroad who asks everyone to speak English for her. So far I know such gems as ‘Sono un po’ubriaca’, which means ‘I’m a little drunk’, and ‘Per favore mi lasci in pace’, meaning ‘Please leave me alone.’ What more does a 21 year old lush need to know?
Shopping. Too much damn shopping! Until further notice the only clothes I am allowed to buy are going to be my dress for the End of Year Ball and related accessories, casual shoes for sunny day wearing, and some wide leg/palazzo trousers. Not the really ridiculous ones, but want to swish a little bit when I walk. Some beautiful things I have bought lately include a tribal print maxi dress from H&M, a playsuit from H&M (don’t mock! It’s comfy, summery, and means I only have to pick one thing to wear on a busy morning) and some beige trousers from Dorothy Perkins.
Job hunting. I dislike job hunting. I dislike job adverts. I dislike my CV. I dislike being unemployable.
Right now I am drinking Morgans Spiced rum & coke and watching Peep Show. This is the life.