Eyes getting mistier...

Firstly, apologies if you read these blogs on Facebook, and end up reding it twice. For some reason it seems to upload twice. If anyone knows why, I'd love to hear...

I don't know if I'm the only one who's getting a wee bit misty eyed about my university days now. It's now, scarily enough, just three months until my final essay is due, and less until my dissertation is due. In themselves these facts are not scary per se, I feel I've been getting on quite well with the old dissertation* and the postcolonial essays are relatively straightforward (dare I say it). So basically, my undergrad days are slipping away from me, and there ain't really very much I can do about it.

I've had far too many 'do you remember when?' conversations in the last few weeks - perhaps not helped by the fact that I've been living in this same lovely house for two years and whatever happens next year I am definitely moving out (on the plus side it will definitly be nice to have a change of location and people around me).

I may even, in a weird kind of way, miss Tim's hugs first thing in the morning - they have certainly made life...distinctive- thanks Tim (that is NOT an encouragement, please note lad). And James' habit of prodding my cooking has, if I'm honest, probably saved a few meals from the bin (and a few pans from cremation) even if at the time I have snarled at him a bit - and probably still will.

It keeps surprising us how if all three of us hadn't decided to go bowling on the very first day of Fresher's week as first years we may have met but we possibly wouldn't have been friends, and we wouldn't have met Luce, and that crazy guy called Dave with the ridiculous long hair and, at one stage, the world's most calamatous beard...it's funny to think.

In light of all this reminiscing, I'm going to begin showing some photos of bits and bobs from the past 3 years. Todays is James, Tim and I in a field in North Devon somewhere during an exciting expedition in the Quantock Hills. If I remember rightly some large farmer had just told us off for eating sandwiches in his field. Or was that the day before? Lucy was there too, by the way, but she's behind the camera...

* After some thinking about where research had led me and whether I now have a clear line of argument, I have concluded that the main thrust of what I'm saying is to do with the struggle of faith verses doubt as played out around the Victorian child's deathbed (both fictional and real). It's interesting stuff, trust me...