At this exact moment in time I feel slightly off: not, you may argue, the best time to be writing a blog. I think I blame GG for unwittingly fostering my current mini-addiction to Motorcycle Emptiness, but there’s also the weird realisation that as this term draws to a close that’s a whole year of uni over and done with. A whole year! Where on earth did all that time go? My final essay is a bit of a strange one, too – though quite fun at the same time – full of high-concept ‘history’ on ‘everyday life’. If people had been publishing blogs consistently across the twentieth century it would be a lot easier to write, that’s for sure.

I do look forward to the Caius History Society garden party on Saturday, largely because Abi and I are in charge of organising it and it’ll be a relief to see it through. We felt like real Apprentice candidates in Sainsbury’s the other day buying up supplies, half-expecting to see Nick or Margaret in the corner muttering sarcastically about some huge and costly mistake we were making. However, I do want to stress that at this point our (fully accounted) costs are coming in squarely on budget! So even if it is a disaster, it shouldn’t be an expensive disaster

Ooh – y’know what, blogging actually does improve my mood and I feel significantly better than ‘slightly off’ now. Isn’t that reassuring? It’s a rollercoaster emotional ride, this blog. Ooh and I’m suddenly reminded of one of the odd little moments of my day which deserve eternal preservation. As I was walking along this afternoon, in my own little music-enhanced world, I noticed some unexpected eye contact was occurring with a woman who – at a guess – would be in her mid 50s. And she was talking to me, too? Hmm, this could be important – what if she was seeking shelter from the Vashta Nerada in the sunlight? – so I paused whatever I was listening to and asked what was up. “Oh, I just noticed that that man riding his bicycle” – and she points to indicate said bicycle speeding into the distance – “had a rather impressive white beard. So I shouted it to him as he rode past.”

Now, I would love to say that I responded with some sort of quick witted response, or even something vaguely audible at all. Like “I suppose he’ll be hair today and gone tomorrow!” – although on reflection that rather implies that the man with the impressive white beard was also fast approaching death, so perhaps not. But you get the idea. Instead, I just stood there smiling in a look of utter confusion, unable to quite process the fact that a stranger was talking to me on the street without demanding my phone. She seemed to sense this, and kindly added “I’ve been outspoken all my life you see, so I’m not going to stop now.” Well, good on her! And indeed I managed to squeeze out “I think that’s a great way to live!” or something, before the awkward silence re-emerged and I waited through just enough seconds of yet more awkward smiling before I could politely walk on. But thank you, outspoken woman. You’re a fine example to us all.

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