The ironically named 'reading week' is now upon us…. ironic in so far as I have been doing everything but reading.
My UCAS statement has been drafted, re-drafted, re-re-drafted on my trusty pc, until it now bears no resemblance whatsoever to the original.
My sociology essay has seen the light of day, with its grand appearance as printout number one. These once-pristine sheets now look as if a psychotic three year old has attacked them with a box of crayons, due to my enthusiastic corrections and readjustments.
I’ve pestered my fellow study skills group members, and tutors, with e-mails regarding screen violence, almost to the point of obsession.
I’ve used copious amounts of blue tack to stick various handouts from my counselling course onto my kitchen cupboard doors, in a desperate attempt to regain some enthusiasm towards the subject before the next session.
I now have a nice shiny new copy of the Essex University Prospectus, which, no doubt, will still be sitting on my table unopened until the day before the deadline for completion of the UCAS application forms. Which, incidentally, has been laboriously photocopied multiple times to ensure that by the time I fill out the original, I shall have at least a vague idea as to what I am actually doing.
The all too familiar displacement activities reared their ugly heads yet again in the form of manic hovering sessions and gardening in the rain.
Friends that only ever receive correspondence from me in the form of Christmas cards, will indeed be surprised to open their morning mail to discover the arrival of my life-story in minute detail.
Shame I was just too busy to get any reading done this week!
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