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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

The first disadvantage that I’ve discovered now that I’m no longer spending my time in anticipation of studying is that nothing is as interesting as it seemed it would be when I was longing for the time when I would be able to do anything, anything at all, other than studying.

When I was studying, when it was either writing essays or preparing for the exam, everything in the world was more interesting. I would spend time tidying up, particularly in the kitchen, because it seemed so important to do, and I couldn’t possibly sit down at the computer which is located in another room altogether if there were a couple of plates in the kitchen that hadn’t been washed, and actually I think all of the tins in the cupboard need to be moved around and I didn’t realise the fridge was so dirty I should probably take it all apart and Cif it to death before I can possibly start that essay.

And telly! Dear god, the telly. Telly was so interesting when I was studying. I’d want to watch everything from episodes of Columbo I’d seen already (her foot brushes off the wall as he’s carrying the body out! I see that now!) to actually watching entire episodes of the last series of Goodnight Sweetheart, the one when they’d managed to make the worst television programme in the world EVEN WORSE by constantly telling the actors they looked fat/their hair was receding/this was the last job they’d ever get/their puppy had just died, to get them to deliver every single line in such a joyless manner that even if there had been any comedy in the script - and there never was - it would be buried underneath layers of ennui and vaguely suicidal intentions.

And this was the most entertaining thing in the world to me. Picking up books that I wasn’t allowing myself to read, and then rearranging the entire bookshelf. Folding and refolding my UNDERWEAR was fascination itself. You don’t want to know what I did with He Who Only…’s sock drawer.

And then this last weekend, I was so BORED. There was exactly NOTHING on the telly, I didn’t want to read a SINGLE one of our vast book collection, the internet held NO JOY for me and darn it all it was raining so why don’t I just sit right here on the floor and DIE because there’s nothing in the world worth breathing for.

Me? I’m never happy.


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