So what occupied my time for the month of April? I’m not really sure, I will need to check. Hey! my day-book is a useless collection of mostly blank pages and short, largely uninformative, to-do-lists! Hmm. Was involved in some ‘incident’ and this is an effort to cover up unauthorized orders?
No. I’m thinking of U-boat commanders and their order logs. I was just crap at keeping track of things for almost the entire month of April.
I forgot to add a list of new books—new to me at any rate—with the March review. I will try and make this part of the regular thing because I like the idea, and it’s a good way to remind myself that I am still bibliophiliac. I and my family have come to accept that it is, in all probability, a terminal case, but only through careful observation and management will I be able to control the malignancy and live out my shelf-space as long as I can.
While I am determined to maintain the habit of the monthly review, I can’t say I take much pride in the contents of this one. Naturally, I have only myself to blame for both the results, and my own disappointment. Judge all you want, I’m not particularly concerned about the course of public opinion. And, if that obviously defensive introduction does not deter you, read on for the month of March.
I have been neglectful of the blog lately, and while that’s unfortunate for the tiny elect of readers, I have been writing all the same, just not for the blog. Here then is the February review, in all its tattered splendour.
Results from January are something of a mixed bag, but there is progress, measurable progress. February will look better because a bunch of things must be done that month. For now, this looks less impressive than it actually is.
In general…
In the last year I worked briefly as an essay tutor, travelled to France, wrote a whack of papers and things, moved to Oxford to start a DPhil, got nominated for a few graduate prizes, sat The Test, got elected to a membership at the Royal Historical Society, presented 2 conference papers, and bought far more books than I can actually afford. Here follows a slightly more specific account of the year for the sake of posterity and my spotty memory.
Things are beginning to deteriorate here at PBS as the Oxford trip approaches. I’m getting sick of answering the question ‘are you excited?’ with politeness. No, I can’t say I’m excited. Teens with few responsibilities and overly optimistic imaginations have the luxury of excitement. I have something that lacks a proper name but has a vague similarity to anxiety and nausea but with a slightly less negative tone. Oh, and I feel really poor right now.
With that, here is the August review.
Pen, Book, Sword. 