No Photoshop this week so no *hilarious* pictures for you, I’m afraid. I’m as cut up about it as you are 😥
I’m gonna be honest with you guys, I think I’ve listened to the Wicked soundtrack too much this week. I know, I know, you wouldn’t think it was possible, but I was just serenading the dog with a rendition of Defying Gravity and even he turned on his heel and left the room, which is unusual because normally he begs me to sing to him and I have to be like, “no, Chumbo, I have a PhD to do, mate!”
We’re back at my mum’s this week for a short visit. It had been my plan to have my chapter finished by now so I could relax and enjoy the Yorkshire weather (currently flooded on all sides). But nay, here I am on my wee Chromebook with 50 tabs open, still editing my intro so that it actually introduces the analysis I’ve written.
It’s been quite nice to be back in my old bedroom, working at the desk where I wrote the poems that went into my masters application portfolio all those years ago (getting teary-eyed here, folks! Oh wait, it’s just because Elphaba and Glinda are singing their finale duet). There’s something about being in this warm little box of a bedroom, my legs crammed under the too-small desk, surrounded by my collections of tat and trinketry that seems to make for excellent working conditions. I actually enjoyed editing my thesis for more than five minutes.
Being home does have its downsides though. For starters I eat way too much when I’m here. My mum is a feeder. The days are a conveyor belt of giant meals, wine, cakes, coffees with cream etc. Pretty sure I’ve detailed my love of food in the past, so this is dangerous territory for me. Secondly, there are books EVERYWHERE. So many novels, so little time. And so little time because the living room is cosy and I wanna binge-watch The Missing (oh my word if you haven’t watched The Missing yet, YOU MUST! I’m so in love with Julien Baptiste and his hunger for the truth).
But mostly, when I’m here it’s as though everyone forgets that I’m doing a PhD and when I say I need to go work it isn’t just a means of avoiding family time. I’m lucky that I still have a room of one’s own (shout out to Virginia) where I can shut myself away and get on with stuff. In the past I’ve tried working downstairs, but even with a laptop and a stack of books sat in front of me, it just does not compute for my family, or me, that I’m attempting concentrated work or “deep thinking” and I wind up chatting about the state of the union (ohhhh what a state it’s in!)
Is this an issue for anyone else? Or am I the only person disorganised enough to have work outstanding when I go visiting family? Maybe I ought to contact Baptiste to get to the bottom of this one…or maybe I should just get back to my editing so I can hang out and have fun before we head back to Edinburgh…