Exams Are So Not Me

Two exams down, two to go.

My life over the past couple of weeks has been…uncharacteristic.

Normal sleeping hours, adopted in desperation and self-loathing after my essay debacle. Now I walk into breakfast and no one bats an eyelid.

An almost exclusively classical playlist, mostly provided by Classic FM and my new Elgar CD (Enigma Variations/Pomp And Circumstance Marches/Crown Of India Suite, Daniel Barenboim, London Phil), also kindly supplemented by two Vaughan-Williams CDs borrowed from hallmate Michael.

I haven’t got out much, apart from Saturday’s surreal excursion to Beano (regular cheese night at ULU) after taking part in (and winning!) my first ever pub quiz.

There’s a slice of Gower Street I gaze out at from my table in the library, through sterile veiled curtains and a window that needs washing. There’s people, and movement, and the flash of sunlight on car windows, but it all seems distant and not quite real, somehow. Like watching closed-circuit TV. You know it’s really happening, but the colours are flat, and however nearby you know you are, no one knows you’re watching.

Sometimes in the evenings I venture out in search of food. McDonalds. KFC. Takeaway pizza. Not much in the way of nutrition. Yesterday I got myself some spinach, which will hopefully stave off scurvy for the time being.