Tuesday, 14 December 2010

Slowly reverting to my component parts

I realised today that I have been very fortunate in life. I have seldom encountered a situation in the past 5 years (at least) where I have been utterly bored out of my mind. When I was at university in Norwich, going home to Edinburgh, I would sometimes eschew even my iPod for the 6-hour train journey, enjoying using the time to think. (I realise this probably makes me very odd indeed.) But today, sitting in my second ever Public Affairs lesson, I was so bored I was close to smashing my head on the desk for a change of pace. It wasn't just dull, it was psychological torture. I'm actually not exaggerating: this morning left me feeling slightly sick, drained and frustrated. Time passed in the slowest 4 minute increments I have ever experienced - I can't believe I barely noticed waiting the same time for my train on the way in. 

There were 14 people in the class today, which was really a proportionally high number. We huddled in our 15 minute break, comparing notes on how we were coping. I drew an advert inspired by the Potato Marketing Commission (a very flirtatious potato indeed), and Mr Niceguy (he's really, really lovely. Yes, that's your only clue) stared out of the window hoping for a car crash to liven things up.

We learned about Parliament and passing bills and so forth, lots of stuff I could have worked out by myself at home, given a simple diagram. We have a textbook, even! But no, the Drone had to drone. For 3 hours. I honestly don't know how I survived. And tomorrow I'm going to have to go in and do it again.

Well, that was rant-y. Apologies. Just because my psyche is being slowly ground down does not mean you should be subjected to the same boredom, distilled. Law was good, as usual. We did more on contempt of court. Remember aaaages ago, when I mentioned not wanting to go into details of a court case we visited? Turns out I may have saved myself prosecution by the Attorney General, which is nice. They should really tell you these things when you sign up for a blog!

I did have an interesting experience today. I went to Craft Central, which turns out to be very near me in Farringdon, to order a Tshirt on behalf of The Godmother. I'm not sure how to describe the place, except as a building full of artists and craftsmen (and women) in their own cubbyhole studios. It was all quite secretive and hidden-around-corners, so perhaps they are a secret organisation, bringing Craft to the mases in direct violation of Cameron's joyless vision for Britian (the big society has no space for creativity! Unless, of course, you're an MP and it's creativity with invoices and the like...), in which case, I probably shouldn't be outing them on what is for many people a preferred news source... Sorry. 

In addition to the (alarmingly young) Tshirt printing maestro, I met Poly Philippou (don't worry, I checked the spelling (I'm learning!)) who was very helpful and lovely (and a fellow disciple of The Godmother's), and let me have a look at the beautiful jewellery she makes. I'm sure you'll have an inkling of my attitude towards shiny things by now, so I'll just let my pictures speak for themselves:

If only I had money... (Make that 'If only I had money and was less likely to spend any unexpected windfalls on holidays, thermals (sad, isn't it? I'm wondering if thermal jeans might be a step too far) and magazines.') 

Also I'm pretty impressed that she made all that herself. And that she can bear to sell it. 

Poly has a website, for anyone else with magpie eyes. (I want a chainmail necklace!)

I made more brownies today, so I'm not tempted to make hopeful trips to the now very meagrely-stocked vending machine. They're lethal. I'm still not sure if I mean that in a good way or not. 

Now it's time for bed, before a chocolate coma claims me. If I'm not in tomorrow, that'll be why (honest!). 


  1. I want to taste some of these mythical "brownies" of yours.

  2. Just bug me next time I mention making them. I've sent some to Ireland, so I'm sure we can make a plan.