The Christmas holidays in halls are boring because everyone goes home. A worker-ant line of parents wound it’s way through the building the second term had finished, extracting their offspring with ruthless yet festive efficiency. As much as I appreciated a hiatus from all the door slamming and small-hour screaming, I haven’t been inspired to write anything here for the last few weeks. No one wants to read about me doing laundry, going to my day job or re-arranging my sock drawer, so I won’t apologise for the long gap between posts.
Gladly the dark and dormant rooms have been steadily reoccupied over the last few weeks by smiling faces and giant sacks of clothes freshly washed by mum. Erstwhile cucumbers, forgotten in fridges and now shrivelled and contorted in prophylactic packaging have been rescued from their shameful puddles and binned.
The student nights have roared back to life and nightclubs and venues are awash with rejuvenated revellers excited to be free once more from parental oppression. They live under their own roofs here, they live by their own rules.
Amidst all the excitement it’s easy to forget that this is also exam and coursework season for many students, myself included. When I decided to undertake this masters I made a lot of promises to myself about my approach to work and time management and learning from my mistakes at undergrad (i.e. everything I did at undergrad), but I forgot one key issue. I’m still me. I haven’t actually missed any deadlines yet which I take as a small victory, but it’s been a clammy, adrenaline fuelled process in the main. I don’t normally go in for New Year’s resolutions, but maybe this year I’ll make an exception and resolve work more sensibly. Maybe.
In other news the flat has installed a lad point score board in the kitchen. Lad points are sort of inverse house points awarded for behaving like a lad.
The rules are still a little ad-hoc, arbitrary even, but I’ll update any notable awards in future posts.
Well I think that’s probably enough said about this dreary part of the year, roll on spring!
P.S. I did go home for three days at Christmas and had a wonderful time, in case you thought I was all alone.