I thought you ought to know these things
My last entry was somewhat truncated; for a variety of reasons, and the main one of these was time management. Due to unexpected developements, the globule of my evening that I had mentally allocated to writing my journal was partially subsumed by writing a Tempest essay and some Ethics, because they in turn were stolen by something else.
The upshot of that something else and some other organisational forrays is that I am going to Oxford, which makes me very happy indeed. (The current plan is to drive up with family peoples in the car and have lunch with them somewhere in Oxford, after which I shall bimble off and find Sarah-who-does-Physics; I'll then hang around with her until about midday on Monday, when she has some form of learning thing to attend, at which point I shall bimble off and find Alexei-who-does-Theology (who is the same Alexei) with whom I shall reside until some point on Tuesday morning, at which point I shall depart to return to St Albans in time for an orthadontic appointment at 12.30. This has formed largely organically, as all the best plans do.) As of yet I am undecided on quite how I am getting back; I can either follow Alexei's route and go from Oxford to Paddington to King's Cross to St Albans by train (in which case I will be getting myself a Young Person's Railcard, because it will give me enough of a discount to make it worthwhile) or follow my mother's suggestion and strike out to Heathrow and then come back in to S'norbans by bus. Any of you lovelies who have made the journey before: which is better?
Also, in other news: I am going to Oxford. Squee.
---
I have had exams.
I don't usually go in for public dissection after the event, because what's done is done, and barring the odd question that was either so unbelievably stupid that the incredulity must be shared or so hard that it is necessarty to find someone else who couldn't answer it to salvage your self-esteem I tend to avoid massive post-exam debriefings with people who have actually done the exam either. Thus I will freely mention than Mechanics was lovely up until the last questio, General Studies was badly written, badly worded, fairly easy and a waste of time, and Critical thinking was odd and about the autism/MMR debate which allowed stipyglove, James, myself and anybody else who has a medic in their immediate family gnash our teeth on their behalf.
History, however, I will talk about it slightly more detail because I know that at least one person on my flist actually know's what I learnt for it and can relate to it. Our paper had two question-sets to chose from. The second, which about four people answered, asked you to first talk about the 1848-9 Revolutions, which I had been dreading because although they're not particularly complicated in Germany they're terribly, terribly, terribly vague and insubstantial and completely all over the place, and to explain to what extent foreign miscalculations and mistakes were behind the success of Prussia until 1870, which was an angle that we had hardly looked at the course from.
The other set of questions asked me how far the economy dictated Prussian success in Germany until 1866 -- and to explain why Bismarck was appointed in 1862.
I was so, so tempted to simply write 'because he had really big Stomping Boots' and put down my pen. I didn't, because it was a gift of a question, and I think I did quite well -- but oh, I came so close...
---
On Thursday, I went to see Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead with Todd and pleezpleezme, which was utterly fantastic and very good fun. It took me a while to pick up on some of the running jokes that were under the surface of the play rather than explicitely in the lines -- Liz and I worked out the interchangability gig at roughly the same time, and both said 'oh' -- but that's half the fun of Stoppard from what I've read of him. (We read Arcadia as a class in English in the first few weeks of the year pretty much just for kicks, and I loved it; when Dan offered to lend me the copy of The Real Inspector Hound I jumped at it. Inspector Hound probably has more in common with Rozenstern than Arcadia does, I think -- but then, that's because Arcadia's metatextuality is aimed at a different target...)
(Which doesn't mean anything, really. I should never let my vocabulary run away with itself.)
Mum drove us down, and on the way we saw two portentous things. One was Dave's Tasty Bites, sitting in the drive of what we could only imagine was Dave's Tasty House; the other was a burst main on Water Lane, which sounds to me like it should be a line from a T.S.Elliot poem. 'A burst main/On water lane...'
---
On Saturday evening, after having a long day revising, I ended up attenting a barbecue at pleezpleezme's house. pleezpleezme wasn't quite the only person there I knew exactly, in a strange way, because Matt-from-Radlett was there unexpectedly, and I had already met Flo and heard of Camden from two seperate sources -- and yet despite not really actually knowing anyone apart from the wonderful host I had a fantastic time. We discussed Freudian theory (mostly in the guise of interestingly shaped food, although there was one notable exception in the form of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest) melted-chocolate-inna-jug, lovely inebriated people, enough innuendo to fill a small skip and some very amusing conversations, not to mention the rum-and-lemonade experiment. On the way back, I spotted a 'large troupe of men exiting a pub in fancy dress. About half of them were wearing dresses; one of them was resplendent in a Regency admiral's uniform complete with feathered hat; another sported a flanmboyant handlebar moustache and was pushing a friend in a supermarket trolley.
I thought you ought to know these things.'
The upshot of that something else and some other organisational forrays is that I am going to Oxford, which makes me very happy indeed. (The current plan is to drive up with family peoples in the car and have lunch with them somewhere in Oxford, after which I shall bimble off and find Sarah-who-does-Physics; I'll then hang around with her until about midday on Monday, when she has some form of learning thing to attend, at which point I shall bimble off and find Alexei-who-does-Theology (who is the same Alexei) with whom I shall reside until some point on Tuesday morning, at which point I shall depart to return to St Albans in time for an orthadontic appointment at 12.30. This has formed largely organically, as all the best plans do.) As of yet I am undecided on quite how I am getting back; I can either follow Alexei's route and go from Oxford to Paddington to King's Cross to St Albans by train (in which case I will be getting myself a Young Person's Railcard, because it will give me enough of a discount to make it worthwhile) or follow my mother's suggestion and strike out to Heathrow and then come back in to S'norbans by bus. Any of you lovelies who have made the journey before: which is better?
Also, in other news: I am going to Oxford. Squee.
---
I have had exams.
I don't usually go in for public dissection after the event, because what's done is done, and barring the odd question that was either so unbelievably stupid that the incredulity must be shared or so hard that it is necessarty to find someone else who couldn't answer it to salvage your self-esteem I tend to avoid massive post-exam debriefings with people who have actually done the exam either. Thus I will freely mention than Mechanics was lovely up until the last questio, General Studies was badly written, badly worded, fairly easy and a waste of time, and Critical thinking was odd and about the autism/MMR debate which allowed stipyglove, James, myself and anybody else who has a medic in their immediate family gnash our teeth on their behalf.
History, however, I will talk about it slightly more detail because I know that at least one person on my flist actually know's what I learnt for it and can relate to it. Our paper had two question-sets to chose from. The second, which about four people answered, asked you to first talk about the 1848-9 Revolutions, which I had been dreading because although they're not particularly complicated in Germany they're terribly, terribly, terribly vague and insubstantial and completely all over the place, and to explain to what extent foreign miscalculations and mistakes were behind the success of Prussia until 1870, which was an angle that we had hardly looked at the course from.
The other set of questions asked me how far the economy dictated Prussian success in Germany until 1866 -- and to explain why Bismarck was appointed in 1862.
I was so, so tempted to simply write 'because he had really big Stomping Boots' and put down my pen. I didn't, because it was a gift of a question, and I think I did quite well -- but oh, I came so close...
---
On Thursday, I went to see Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead with Todd and pleezpleezme, which was utterly fantastic and very good fun. It took me a while to pick up on some of the running jokes that were under the surface of the play rather than explicitely in the lines -- Liz and I worked out the interchangability gig at roughly the same time, and both said 'oh' -- but that's half the fun of Stoppard from what I've read of him. (We read Arcadia as a class in English in the first few weeks of the year pretty much just for kicks, and I loved it; when Dan offered to lend me the copy of The Real Inspector Hound I jumped at it. Inspector Hound probably has more in common with Rozenstern than Arcadia does, I think -- but then, that's because Arcadia's metatextuality is aimed at a different target...)
(Which doesn't mean anything, really. I should never let my vocabulary run away with itself.)
Mum drove us down, and on the way we saw two portentous things. One was Dave's Tasty Bites, sitting in the drive of what we could only imagine was Dave's Tasty House; the other was a burst main on Water Lane, which sounds to me like it should be a line from a T.S.Elliot poem. 'A burst main/On water lane...'
---
On Saturday evening, after having a long day revising, I ended up attenting a barbecue at pleezpleezme's house. pleezpleezme wasn't quite the only person there I knew exactly, in a strange way, because Matt-from-Radlett was there unexpectedly, and I had already met Flo and heard of Camden from two seperate sources -- and yet despite not really actually knowing anyone apart from the wonderful host I had a fantastic time. We discussed Freudian theory (mostly in the guise of interestingly shaped food, although there was one notable exception in the form of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest) melted-chocolate-inna-jug, lovely inebriated people, enough innuendo to fill a small skip and some very amusing conversations, not to mention the rum-and-lemonade experiment. On the way back, I spotted a 'large troupe of men exiting a pub in fancy dress. About half of them were wearing dresses; one of them was resplendent in a Regency admiral's uniform complete with feathered hat; another sported a flanmboyant handlebar moustache and was pushing a friend in a supermarket trolley.
I thought you ought to know these things.'