Thursday morning. Mr Writer by the Stereophonics on the radio.
“Why don’t you tell it like it really is?” they say.
Well damn, I intend to. After twelve hours of terrible sleep, I’ve awoken to the beautiful morning. And, besides scratching this entry into my journal, I’ve been tapping away at the work-in-progress. That’s how my writing slides into my pre-exam schedule; slide it right into the morning when I have some shred of wit still about me, then get on with the soul-destroying revision.
We’re now into the penultimate fortnight before the April exam season, and my mind is now well and truly buzzing with miscellaneous equations and finicky definitions I’d love nothing better to do than plum forget. And beyond this lies another five weeks of revision for the far more numerous exams I have in the May exam season.
Physics degrees aren’t a cake walk, apparently. Who knew?
But fear not, dear reader, for there’s no end in sight to my writing life. I’m managing to strike up a good balance between reading, writing, editing, social media, and working. I’m even managing to sneak exercise in there. I know I wouldn’t be able to keep this up long-term, but thankfully I don’t have to, and I have a long summer to recover, and readdress the balance.
Then I can try to land a part-time job, and get some real writing done.
Off home again in an hour, catching a train back down to sunny Bedfordshire to see the parents and siblings for Easter Sunday. Can’t wait to see everyone. It’s only been ten days, but with Paris, and then so much work, it feels like an age.
Oh, and free food, too. Don’t forget that.
Stay safe, kids.