MMVII

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Happy New Year everyone!

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Go, go, go!

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I'm writing this post in bed, because I'm feeling a bit poorly. Which is really rubbish, because it means I can't eat loads and loads of chocolate (as I'd planned to do) and because I couldn't go to see Dartford notch up another win (this time over Canvey Island). My teeth are also giving me jip, although that was expected because of my appointment on Wednesday. It was the reason I had to stay in Sheffield for a few days after the end of the first "half" of the semester, but it also nearly forced me to stay for a bit longer. Not really thinking, I had booked a ticket on the 13.27 train home. This meant being on the train between 20- and 25- past, and this meant arriving at the station for about quarter-past one. My dentist appointment was a 11.45 sit-and-wait. The orthodontic department at the hospital is clearly so popular that they have to over-book appointments every day in order to treat everyone. So I knew that it would be a close-run thing...
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The Apprentice: Heavier than a Batmobile

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I watched this week's Apprentice at half-past-three on Wednesday morning, having been staring at a computer screen for about a day. As a result, my memory of precisely what happened are slightly cloudy. The Guardian 's excellent " live blog " has handily filled in the gaps. Our six would-be apprentices were given the task of selling wealthy punters the chance to spend some time with some fantastic supercars. Apparently, this is a rapidly growing new business venture, although quite why struck me as a tad confusing. Surely the whole point of those things is to drive them – fast ? Unless you own your own racetrack, there's not much opportunity to do that on the UK's roads... It soon became clear, though, that the target audience was disgustingly rich grade-A posers. Depending on your point of view, poor/useless Lucinda was unfairly/fairly treated by her team-mates this week. Having said she wouldn't feel comfortable selling on her own (because she...
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Stop! Britishsummertime.

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There was a very real risk (thanks to an almighty cock-up between John Lewis and Sony) that I wouldn't have seen my laptop this side of Easter. Luckily (and I'm sure it was nothing but luck which finally resolved the situation), it was repaired and returned to me in the nick of time. As a result, nigh-on one month after it died on me, I am once again able to spout my worthless musings on to the interweb again. ◊ Isn't it strange how really useful things have the tendency to appear when you need them most. Like "the Restoration period" being featured on the front page of Wikipedia the day before my exam on it. Or two characters on Third Rock From The Sun talking about Hamlet the same week I had to read it. Or – and this one was especially useful – ITV1 screening Mansfield Park last Sunday, just in time for my seminars on the book. On all three occasions, these happily random co-incidences have saved me a lot of bother. Well, all except the Hamlet one... it...
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