I hate it when I want to write on this site (by this I mean a fairly specific volition in terms of particular words, phrases, descriptions of events rather than a vague write-somethingness) but don’t have the time to. By the time I manage to get down to it, the entry feels crammed and stilted rather than evocative of anything I actually did want to record and remember.
We got back from Germany on Monday night (I really do mean to put my travel journals up here. Really. Summer project). Well-meaning Alec had cooked me a dinner of stew that prominently featured sausages (which I’d managed to avoid in Germany through careful effort), accompanied by some sparkling wine he introduced with “This is horrible, you’ll love it.” And that’s when I truly knew I was home. :)
The week from then to now has been a fairly satisfying mix of mostly practical mornings and mostly frivolous days. (Which will be written about in due course. I truly am resolute. Except that right now I need to go have a haircut…) However, in the midst of obscenely indulgent lunches and teas and inordinate amounts of time looking at flouncy girlie things, I was pleasantly reminded today that I was once an intellectual being well worth my black turtleneck sweater – the law faculty wants to publish my Bentham dissertation in the UCL Jurisprudence Review, which means that most of April was actually worth the pain.
When life has been this good to me lately, am I a pessimist for wondering where and when the fall is going to come?