(no subject)
Today, I went to the Bodleian Library.
The Bod (as it is known) is a fearsome place. While it's pretty cool to have shelves filled to the brim with books which you can't take out for fear of being eviscerated by an angry librarian with a stapler, the atmosphere is thick enough to choke on - every step I take (I'm a fast, therefore noisy, walker) seems to cause everyone to stare at me like I've wandered in naked screaming about the apocalypse (actually that probably wouldn't surprise anyone, that's standard Saturday night fare round here). I've finally found a pair of trainers that doesn't squeak horribly as you clomp over the highly polished floorboards, which saves some embarassment, but the place is still quite daunting. Generally when doing research for essays I attempt vainly to nab things from the college library (having spent the majority of my first year at university going to the Bod and coming out drained of all life in some bizarre biblio-vampiric ritual) but on occasion I have to succumb to the inevitable and trek the (admittedly not very arduous) two minutes walk across the road.
However, sometimes I like to have a little fun with the Bod. There's a massive subterrenean cavern filled with random books that people don't often read, since the Bod is a copyright library or something along those lines which means that it must hold every book that has been published in the country - kinda nifty. This comes in incredibly useful when you need some obscure article on lamentation customs in 6th century Greece or a commentary on a crappy comedy by Terence, but it's also useful for getting hold of random other books of an entirely frivolous nature.
Last term, I sat in the Latin Reading Room copying out a recipe from Roald Dahl's Revolting Recipes from a copy unearthed from a pile somewhere in said cavern. I felt very, very cool.
Today I was just reading a play (Abigail's Party by Mike Leigh) for an audition next week. Having not done any acting for a couple of years, it's been incredibly nerve-wracking trying to make myself sign up for the audition - I know I won't get a part, but I can at least try. Besides, one of the characters (Lawrence) was basically written for me - annoying, pretentious, dead before the end of the play!
The Bod (as it is known) is a fearsome place. While it's pretty cool to have shelves filled to the brim with books which you can't take out for fear of being eviscerated by an angry librarian with a stapler, the atmosphere is thick enough to choke on - every step I take (I'm a fast, therefore noisy, walker) seems to cause everyone to stare at me like I've wandered in naked screaming about the apocalypse (actually that probably wouldn't surprise anyone, that's standard Saturday night fare round here). I've finally found a pair of trainers that doesn't squeak horribly as you clomp over the highly polished floorboards, which saves some embarassment, but the place is still quite daunting. Generally when doing research for essays I attempt vainly to nab things from the college library (having spent the majority of my first year at university going to the Bod and coming out drained of all life in some bizarre biblio-vampiric ritual) but on occasion I have to succumb to the inevitable and trek the (admittedly not very arduous) two minutes walk across the road.
However, sometimes I like to have a little fun with the Bod. There's a massive subterrenean cavern filled with random books that people don't often read, since the Bod is a copyright library or something along those lines which means that it must hold every book that has been published in the country - kinda nifty. This comes in incredibly useful when you need some obscure article on lamentation customs in 6th century Greece or a commentary on a crappy comedy by Terence, but it's also useful for getting hold of random other books of an entirely frivolous nature.
Last term, I sat in the Latin Reading Room copying out a recipe from Roald Dahl's Revolting Recipes from a copy unearthed from a pile somewhere in said cavern. I felt very, very cool.
Today I was just reading a play (Abigail's Party by Mike Leigh) for an audition next week. Having not done any acting for a couple of years, it's been incredibly nerve-wracking trying to make myself sign up for the audition - I know I won't get a part, but I can at least try. Besides, one of the characters (Lawrence) was basically written for me - annoying, pretentious, dead before the end of the play!