End of Term
Last class of the term this morning, with a predictably poor turnout considering both the time of year and the snow and ice which has descended. I did my best but with energy levels low all round it wasn't the most productive of mornings. Afterwards I sat in my office trying to focus and complete some of the many little admin tasks with which one is faced after a busy teaching period. Some are now done, many are not. I've had a few nights waking with panic recently at the quantity of lectures to be prepared before February, which coupled with marking and admin will not make for a restful January, despite me being a 'lucky academic' with 'six weeks off'.
Still. One does one's best, and tries to keep calm. I shouldn't complain - I'm lucky to have the job, especially as various erstwhile colleagues now do not have theirs. I am torn though between keeping going at pretty much full speed as regards work preparation, and taking a good week off, or at least easy. I'm not sure what to do and will probably end up not quite deciding. Still I do seem to be calmer when I just accept the fact that there isn't really any time - there's no golden haven of substantial free time in the foreseeable future, and so one does the best one can with the small pieces that do become available. I even took my book of American poetry criticism to the hairdressers with me this afternoon, though I did reach a point where I was so tired the words stopped making sense, or my eyes stopped focusing. Enough's enough sometimes.
As well as being the end of the teaching term, it's the end of the year, the end of the decade, so endings are in the air. Here are three I'm quite sad about.
One. My gym has gone into administration. Poor old Paradise Walk - I joined it just a few months after starting my university post in London in early 2007, having relinquished membership of the UEA gym, which is where I first found out just how good it is to have gym visits as a regular thing in life. Paradise Walk was a much smaller affair - a local, women's gym, which never had full capacity use that I witnessed. Often I was the only one in there, reading away on the cross trainer, whether it was an early morning or late afternoon. But everyone was friendly and there was a sort of sense of community - one saw the same faces, and I was aware of yoga and other exercise classes going on in the studio upstairs - I always meant to go but never made it up there. I did really appreciate the gym visits though. I don't think I ever went and regretted my hour of exercise. There's something to be said for endorphins. So I was really quite gutted to go along last Sunday and find the place shut up. Of course there are many other gyms in the capital but this one was both familiar and local and I shall really miss it - I went every morning after Christmas last year. Paradise Lost.
Secondly, Borders has also gone into administration. I feel irrationally sad about this - it's only a bookshop (and not one I ever worked in), and I wasn't a regular customer. I have Amazon to hand, after all, for all those urgent academic purchases. But trips to Oxford Street Borders have always been a bit of a treat - the whole ritual of it, including a browse in all the sections, and a coffee in the Starbucks concession. I liked to go by myself a few times a years but K- and I have been the last few Christmasses to buy each other a book too, so it does feel as though another part of my personal rituals has gone. Oh well - can't get too sentimental about it though. There's always Foyles round the corner, as K- reminds me.
Thirdly - and I can't write too much nonsense about it yet, as it hasn't quite happened - but David Tennant is ceding his Doctorship to a new boy, and I feel surprisingly melancholic about this too - I wasn't at all sure when he took over from Christopher Ecclestone that he would be a convincing Doctor, and I still think he and Billie Piper made for a far-too-smug Doctor and companion, but he's just got better and better in the role and will be missed. Alas - but it's not as if there hasn't been a change of role before. That's what Time Lordly reincarnation is all about.
All things pass.
At least I haven't blogged about Terry Wogan giving his last breakfast show radio broadcast. Though this feels like the end of an era too, albeit tangentially - I can't help but associate Terry Wogan with all things childhood - Radio 2 blaring every morning from the kitchen. Mum will miss him, I daresay. She likes his understated mockery of life.
Anyhow, in with the new - here's to reincarnations. At least Donner seems like a new kitten - his stitches are out and the vet having pronounced a clean bill of health, he's been popping in and out to the snow covered garden along with his brother. And very pleased with life he is once more.
Still. One does one's best, and tries to keep calm. I shouldn't complain - I'm lucky to have the job, especially as various erstwhile colleagues now do not have theirs. I am torn though between keeping going at pretty much full speed as regards work preparation, and taking a good week off, or at least easy. I'm not sure what to do and will probably end up not quite deciding. Still I do seem to be calmer when I just accept the fact that there isn't really any time - there's no golden haven of substantial free time in the foreseeable future, and so one does the best one can with the small pieces that do become available. I even took my book of American poetry criticism to the hairdressers with me this afternoon, though I did reach a point where I was so tired the words stopped making sense, or my eyes stopped focusing. Enough's enough sometimes.
As well as being the end of the teaching term, it's the end of the year, the end of the decade, so endings are in the air. Here are three I'm quite sad about.
One. My gym has gone into administration. Poor old Paradise Walk - I joined it just a few months after starting my university post in London in early 2007, having relinquished membership of the UEA gym, which is where I first found out just how good it is to have gym visits as a regular thing in life. Paradise Walk was a much smaller affair - a local, women's gym, which never had full capacity use that I witnessed. Often I was the only one in there, reading away on the cross trainer, whether it was an early morning or late afternoon. But everyone was friendly and there was a sort of sense of community - one saw the same faces, and I was aware of yoga and other exercise classes going on in the studio upstairs - I always meant to go but never made it up there. I did really appreciate the gym visits though. I don't think I ever went and regretted my hour of exercise. There's something to be said for endorphins. So I was really quite gutted to go along last Sunday and find the place shut up. Of course there are many other gyms in the capital but this one was both familiar and local and I shall really miss it - I went every morning after Christmas last year. Paradise Lost.
Secondly, Borders has also gone into administration. I feel irrationally sad about this - it's only a bookshop (and not one I ever worked in), and I wasn't a regular customer. I have Amazon to hand, after all, for all those urgent academic purchases. But trips to Oxford Street Borders have always been a bit of a treat - the whole ritual of it, including a browse in all the sections, and a coffee in the Starbucks concession. I liked to go by myself a few times a years but K- and I have been the last few Christmasses to buy each other a book too, so it does feel as though another part of my personal rituals has gone. Oh well - can't get too sentimental about it though. There's always Foyles round the corner, as K- reminds me.
Thirdly - and I can't write too much nonsense about it yet, as it hasn't quite happened - but David Tennant is ceding his Doctorship to a new boy, and I feel surprisingly melancholic about this too - I wasn't at all sure when he took over from Christopher Ecclestone that he would be a convincing Doctor, and I still think he and Billie Piper made for a far-too-smug Doctor and companion, but he's just got better and better in the role and will be missed. Alas - but it's not as if there hasn't been a change of role before. That's what Time Lordly reincarnation is all about.
All things pass.
At least I haven't blogged about Terry Wogan giving his last breakfast show radio broadcast. Though this feels like the end of an era too, albeit tangentially - I can't help but associate Terry Wogan with all things childhood - Radio 2 blaring every morning from the kitchen. Mum will miss him, I daresay. She likes his understated mockery of life.
Anyhow, in with the new - here's to reincarnations. At least Donner seems like a new kitten - his stitches are out and the vet having pronounced a clean bill of health, he's been popping in and out to the snow covered garden along with his brother. And very pleased with life he is once more.
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