VE has taken time out of her hectic schedule of study and employment to indulge in a week of fun-filled festivities and merriment. Yes, another one. So here's my self-indulgent diary of events.
On Saturday evening, after a strange lecture about the appropriation of rooms in modernist literature, I headed to Somerset to see Mr and Mrs M, as they'd been a little neglected since Christmas. After absorbing myself in village activities like cycling, walking and baking, I remembered how boring the country becomes when you're there for too long, and promptly read all 500 pages of Frances Hodgson Burnett's "The Shuttle" in around 48 hours (honestly), but more on that later.
By Tuesday, desperate for conversation, I walked into town and had elevenses with Hannah (who hasn't eaten solid food for nearly 12 months on her doctor's advice - never trust a GP), and lunch with Dave (who has an adopted otter). All of which improved my spirits enough for me to face an evening of wall-to-wall soap operas with my parents. But her from Hear'Say is STILL ruining Corrie. Disgraceful.
On Wednesday, Mrs M and I drove to Bath to see the Dollar Princesses exhibition at the American Museum, as recommended by Persephone on account of how it is extremely relevant to "The Shuttle" (see above), and we thoroughly enjoyed the decadence and glamour. Considering Winston Churchill's ma was a Dollar Princess, there's something more to this than pearls and fancy dresses. Although, lest we forget, behind the fur coats and diamante mirrors, there was a huge degree of misery and lies.
By Wednesday night, I was back in London and feeling culture shock at the people you pass in the street who don't acknowledge you with a doff of their cap and a cheery "'af'noon". By Thursday morning, I was back in the gym and kicking people smaller than me, before attending a baffling lecture about archival systems - led by four people who nod and laugh at each other a lot, while their students sit there in mild bewilderment. Academics, eh? And by Thursday night, I was in a pub in Russell Square quaffing wine with my fellow students and attempting to talk like an academic - however, I don't think anyone was fooled.
So today, I've been back to the gym, back to baking, and I've had PHD Paul round for tea - accompanied by two conversational topics: 1) how weird are academics, and 2) how much do we miss Julia Brogan from Brookie. Tomorrow, Emma is coming to stay and we're going for posh afternoon tea at a fancy hotel. Since I'm reading "The Remains Of The Day", I'm trying to recreate the world of toffy living. This was spoilt somewhat by P informing me he was doing a shoot involving a naked glamour model, a disembodied pig's head, an offensive comedian and a very large knife.
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