These are strange times. Someone once tried to apply Einstein’s Theory of Relatively to produce something to the effect of “work to be done expands to fill the time available to do it.” Conversely, I’m experiencing something of the opposite, a sad failure of self-discipline where amount of free time and apathy toward work and study are set up in a tragic correlation.

I’ve been living on my own for the last ten days, since my flatmate decided to sojourn to London for two weeks to - of all things - have his knee reconstructed, so I’ve had free reign over my waking hours at a time when assignments are piling up, all desperately vying for my attention. My response has been a weak one: I’ve worked one day in the last four, and that was today. A losing battle against worry-induced insomnia has meant that a typical night consists of laying awake until two or three in the morning before falling into fitful sleep and being completely unable to get out of bed before eleven or twelve, leaving a difficult salvage operation to extract any useful value from the day. But today I did get some work done, albeit with a near-constant intake of coffee in an effort to keep my ragged brain turning over.

Interesting trends are emerging. The beginning of this [academic] year saw, on the prompting of my flatmate, my adoption of a fitness regime involving two or three gym visits a week - reasonably heavy cardio and lots of weights. This has paid off hugely, and I’m now in better shape than ever. I’ve managed to keep up the routine in his absence, but curiously the gym has now morphed from a beneficial yet unattractive chore into an escape from the drudgery of real work. My doctor would probably call this a good thing; my final year project supervisor would probably take a different view. When I can’t be bothered to work I hit the stationary bike and the bench; I’ve been four times in the last seven days, and I’ve enjoyed it - my usual smugness toward the salad dodgers tempered by the guilty pang of knowing that while I started going there to shape up, I now go out of a desire to put off what actually needs to be done - and I feel good about it.

Fortunately the dear boy will be back in three days, and I’m particularly glad that I ditched the idea of living on my own when I was planning things out last year. Although things are cooling off after a week, having the place to myself has meant a warm indulgence of my craziness: shouting at the TV, drinking beer in the bath, exposing myself to residents of the flats across the street, throwing eggs at screaming drunks crawling past our building at 4am. Were my flatmate not here from time to time to give the leash an occasional tweak, this place would probably look like an Andy Warhol redecoration of a strip club bathroom.

Almost certainly the work enthusiasm will perk up in the coming weeks. It better had, anyway. Curiously with the coming of my final year, the sense of resignation to large workloads we enjoyed in our first year is increasingly replaced with a sense of injustice, verging on loathing toward the lecturers setting these assignments - particularly confined to the Computer Science department. One module in particular this year has been a disorganised, mismanaged joke, and being asked to pucker up and pinch out a colossal essay having wasted many an afternoon sitting through that bollocks does grate a little to say the least. But enough gibbering about that - I’ve got work to do.

Google Maps UK just updated a swathe of their satellite photography, and guess what’s shown sitting outside where I currently reside? My awesome motor car!

In other news, the year has reached its end; stay tuned for commentary on this latest emotional upheaval, &c.

Spotted in a supermarket near you…

Celebrate the death of Jesus through self-love. Go, the eggs command you.

The snow has given way to rain, and the town looks like an illustration from a depression pamphlet. I went for a walk last night and ended up in a 2-hour circuit around the outskirts of town, which succeeded in clearing my head. For a few hours at least. I have been unsuccessful in establishing how fast walking pace is, but I’d imagine I put a few miles under my heels - so good exercise in any case.

My subconscious battle of procrastination against my Marketing essay culminated in my cleaning of the entire house this morning in preparation for the (brief) arrival of my folks later today, which was a bittersweet process if there ever was one. The house is now what might be described as clean (by those who don’t look too closely), but I’d bet my bollocks to a barn dance (to use the vernacular) that it won’t stay so for more than a day or two. Though Josh is going back to Geneva for Reading Week, so hope springs eternal. Nor, since a clean house is apparently not an expectation of my housemates, am I likely to be acknowledged for doing so (as if the place magically became clean again) - “well I didn’t ask you to do it” etc. Sigh.

Time to do some essay-writing. See? Yet again I find something to do besides that. Hoho.

So I ended up going in of course; the appeal of speeding through snow was just too much. Campus looked like some sort of Arctic apocalypse, with groups of running, screaming students heaving snow at each other and dozens of snowmen dwarfing the figures dashing around them. My guilt-fed attendance of lectures proved unnecessary, as I went to the first one then found the second was cancelled, so came home via Stoneleigh, where I stopped to take some photos. Once home I persuaded Andy to come out for a snowball fight which proved to be excellent exercise, then carved a snowman outside the front door until I had stopped exuding steam and got cold. From what I can see, the snow has now stopped, but tomorrow is set to be another stay-in-bed possibility, as the snow that managed to melt today will re-freeze as ice underneath new snow, making driving that bit more of a challenge.