It is still officially Monday and already the weekend feels like it was decades ago. I'm not sure if that's the sign of a terrible week to come or a fabulous weekend just gone. A little bit of both perhaps?
Brighton was just delightful and the perfect remedy for a long last week. LB and I had a great time, staying in this cute-as little B&B with sea views and not a hint of chintz (though some serious wafts of incense...) Arriving late on Friday we had dinner in the Lanes before waking up on Saturday to a beautiful, sunny, near-cloudless day - ideal conditions for a coastal walk and some sooking about a lack of hat.
Hopping the bus to Rottingdean, something of a Brighton ritual these days, we began our walk with some perilous hobbling over the pebbles for a token dip of the toes in the freezing water of the English Channel. After some considerable thawing we meandered back to Brighton for a further wander around the Lanes and a stroll through the Sussex Food and Wine Festival (with a well-timed arrival for a cocktail-making demonstration. Gin o'clock anyone?)
Gourmet burgers and pink cider on board, LB, Bette Middler and I took off for the Palace Pier where we sat under the boardwalk, eating chocolate muffins and pitching pebbles at the metal pylons. It took me half an hour and about 400 rocks but eventually I managed to hit the target. The simple things in life really... After a week of intense writing and intellectual head-slamming a bit of pebble chucking was about all I could manage and even then I think I might have pulled a muscle. It's no wonder when people ask me what my favourite sport is I tell them "sarcasm". But I digress.
Taking to the Pier proper and loaded with tokens I had LB eating his words (and nearly re-eating his lunch) after taking him on the Waltzer, an unassuming-looking ride until it begins to spin so fast your internal organs start to flatpack themselves against the seat. Fun times.
Bellinis and beers at sunset and then a night of rancid cocktails and pizza and promenading on a beautiful wind-less night. Tres bon! Sunday unfortunately the weather was not so fabulous and after a lazy late breakfast we took the train back to Clapham for an afternoon of naps and crap TV. The perfect pre-week antidote to all the not-so-fun times on the immediate horizon.
Today was the official start of "Write Chapter Two [You Hopeless Procrastinator]" week. So far so few words but given that I've met all my self-imposed deadlines to date (and shocked everyone including myself in the process) I'm hopeful something constructive will come from this week. I had a tutorial this afternoon to go over the drafts of my introduction and first chapter and it was a largely positive and certainly very constructive hour but MY GOD do I have some more work to do. Something about asserting my opinions more and sign-posting my argument more explicitly. Sounds easy enough. If only I could work out which direction to post these signs all would be well. Ahh for another week of tortured sleep and mouth ulcers. If I ever make mention of a PhD in any sort of conversation about my future plans someone please smack me.
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