The Countdown to Hilary: Seven Days To Go

Hello,

As the dreams are perpetuated, so is the work. I shan’t speak too much about that currently, because all I shall speak of – and in a completely overwrought manner – is my continued oscillation between panicked surrender to the fact that I cannot learn this all, and a sort of raw determination to damn well learn it all, in the manner of the Anglo-Saxons in The Battle of Maldon, who decided – perversely – that they were going to fight the Vikings to the death despite being picked off bit by bit, man by man, rather than surrender; or, rather, for those who desire a more recent analogy, in the manner of the three hundred in the Battle of Thermopylae – ‘overmode’ if ever it existed. Thus, I shall halt here, because continued discussion could take up two thousand words in its own right. Suffice to say I’m currently in the latter mood, and hopefully it shall sustain itself for the remainder of the holiday, because at least then I’ll know something about Victorian literature, if not as much as I’d like to.

It seems to me that I have taken the first – or, if not the first, then a very big – step towards convincing all of my old schoolmates that I have indeed become the archetypal Oxonian, for I am currently sitting at home reading Kate Flint’s discussion of ‘Readership and The Victorian Novel’ as opposed to meeting my old schoolmates at a pub in Kingston. Work was the excuse I gave, and thankfully they accepted that without too much question – for it was partially an ostensible reason, and I was not enamoured by the idea of having to expound further. As it is, I am not distraught at missing out on this occasion. Of course there are those who I miss greatly, and who I desperately hope I shall have an opportunity to catch up with before we go our separate ways once more, but I foresaw a certain awkwardness, and when I take that into account along with the fact that I feel rather guilty whenever I am not working, my remaining at home was no doubt for the best.

I also have a great desire to start packing all of my things for Hilary, yet it feels far too early – there is still, after all, a week, and being a dreadful pedant, I like to do things all at once, especially packing, and attempting to do it in bits would just irritate me. Therefore, I’m currently subject to frequent urges to start throwing things – no, that would be quite out of character, putting things – into my suitcases and holdalls, and having to restrain myself. I also think I’m going to need an extra suitcase or two for the things I’ve either acquired over Christmas or forgot to bring last term – such items include the numerous books I want to take up with me for Hilary, my Deluxe Super Scrabble Set (yes, my godmother gives amazing Christmas gifts) and my Kindle (yes, so does my mother). I haven’t yet taken these suitcases out of storage yet, so I’m loath to start packing until I’ve done this.

On that note, what’s currently constraining the amount of time I have for work is not large swathes of time that are occupied by family, as happens over Christmas; or work, as happens when one takes a job that one does not have the time to do, but for small, irritating tasks that are necessary but irksome. For example, taking suitcases out of storage will take me half an hour, but it is half an hour lost. Similarly, I have to get a haircut prior to coming up again, because I’m currently in danger of a minor reversion to my Juvenile Delinquent afro, but factoring in waiting time and cycling to the barbers and back, I’m losing an hour, possibly ninety minutes, and these small tasks add up to hours that I could spend pondering Middlemarch and The Kraken, or reading Ulysses and A Clockwork Orange. There are probably more of these tasks to be completed, but as I write this a fresh flood of fatigue comes over me, and I forget what they are.

I would greatly like to write more but that’s my half-an-hour slot of writing time over, and adherence to routine is a necessary evil more so than ever right now. I shall update later today, most likely with New Years Resolutions.

Regards,

Jack