harumph
Apologies for silence - the web interface of this blog failed me for a few days, as did anything at all to report. I had a rubbish weekend, in which I went to bed with Sophocles (not a hot lay) not only on Friday night but also on Saturday, which was like taking a slightly sore spot and whacking it with a mallet. To add a salt and vinegar crisp to the cold sore of this spurning, among the excuses proferred was one which confirms that I am now officially more boring than Ovid. Good grief. This is what happens when, however nice your friends are, you only have twelve of them. At home in Britain I used to lament that I had so many friends I didn't always see them all in a year. I don't think we're in Kansas any more.
Anyway, Saturday was the kind of dismal solitary evening for which, as any single woman knows, the only remedy is a huge bar of chocolate and a bottle of wine. Even recourse to this was barred me, however, as it's Lent, and I have renounced that sort of splurging, so I satisfied myself with some psalms and an early night. It's really not the life I imagined for myself at 26, to be honest. It's not that I resent the Lenten business (I find it very invigorating, in fact, and it's astonishing how easy it is to old back from the pasties when you have A Reason), but I do think I ought to have more of a social life at university than I did when I lived and worked in a small girls' boarding school in rural Oxfordshire.
My very old and very dear friend James rang on Sunday night and we spoke for hours and hours, which made me as happy as I'd been all week. And also twice as sad. Why am I here again?
Anyway, Saturday was the kind of dismal solitary evening for which, as any single woman knows, the only remedy is a huge bar of chocolate and a bottle of wine. Even recourse to this was barred me, however, as it's Lent, and I have renounced that sort of splurging, so I satisfied myself with some psalms and an early night. It's really not the life I imagined for myself at 26, to be honest. It's not that I resent the Lenten business (I find it very invigorating, in fact, and it's astonishing how easy it is to old back from the pasties when you have A Reason), but I do think I ought to have more of a social life at university than I did when I lived and worked in a small girls' boarding school in rural Oxfordshire.
My very old and very dear friend James rang on Sunday night and we spoke for hours and hours, which made me as happy as I'd been all week. And also twice as sad. Why am I here again?
posted by Scarlet at 1:26 pm
1 Comments:
Talking about small girl's boarding schools, we have sort of finalised the Final Schedule. Leaver's Ball 29th June (Friday). Staff Party (bit of a row about inviting SMETS; I stamped my feet and said that you would be coming as my partner if they only allowed current teachers, and then someone mentioned Mark and Ann-Marie and some other old favourites, and suddenly it was clear that we would have a party for all people who have worked here up to ten years ago) (we might be doing a cabaret) ... and then the Sunday is the final open day. This is because the Viles come back from Spain on the Thursday I think, then are being sent home straight away to come back for the final day to avoid any of the traditional shenanigans. Ho hum.
Anyway, can you make it back for then? You can come as my partner *anyway* if you want. G xx
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