desperately seeking sunshine
Sometimes I question whether time passes more quickly when I've got loads of work to do, because I always seem to run out of time when this happens. Having said that, this weekend was surprisingly productive. Saturday afternoon was spent in the library, and then giving the flat a good once-over; Sunday was devoted to the thesis for a good part of the day, revision for Computing before dinner, and then a quick read through of Forecasting afterwards.I am the epitome of 'stress' at the moment, although I hesitate momentarily at using that word. A friend recently commented that stress is used too liberally these days, that pressures of work and schooling are simply a part of life, and I do have to agree with him. It is not an extra pressure and it is something we all must deal with. Undoubtedly it is a skill in itself to be able to 'switch on' when it is required, and more importantly, to 'switch off' when mind and body need a rest. That is, admittedly, a skill I have not yet been able to master.
It has always been difficult for me to 'switch off' - I tend to feel somewhat guilty for taking a break when I know I could be working, but often, the mind simply cannot keep up. I did manage to switch off for a few hours at the very least, on Friday afternoon. White Teeth D and I went on a cross-London trek in rather abominable weather that seemed to replicate all four seasons of the year. We went to Paperchase. We walked the length of Oxford St. During our quick foray into Selfridges, I was given a mere 20 minutes to purchase a lipstick and potentially some items of clothing. (I miraculously did manage this. 20 minutes! I don't think I have ever tried on, and subsequently purchased, a pair of jeans in seven minutes flat. I tried on two pairs, the first of which refused to make it past my hips and bum. Oh, the effect that this has on a woman's self-esteem.)
We had gone out with the intention of making it to the Armenian Embassy on High St Kensington before 16:00 - it was, by this point, a quarter after three. Instead of sensibly taking the tube, we decided to walk through Hyde Park, which, in case you've never been, is rather massive. Nevertheless, it was a picturesque little stroll. The park is lovely, with its acres of green lawns, trees, daffodils, benches, and ubiquitous and omnipresent bird shit.
We did make it to the Embassy in one piece and on time, one automobile mishap later, and wrapped up the afternoon by having a quick snack at Caffe Nero where White Teeth D began writing his Mother's Day cards. I find it rather amusing watching a man fill out a card - after four minutes, he came up with a date, followed by a somewhat nondescript 'Happy Mother's Day! Lots of love, D'. (I did suggest something vaguely more creative, but men are not typically known for being very verbal creatures, and this is made more evident when placed in front of a card (Christmas, Birthday, Mother's Day, Valentine's Day etc). Words seem to completely escape them by this point, and it would only arouse suspicion on the part of the female recipient if the message contained inside were too, well, multisyllabic.)
Anyways. I ramble. It is late - or more accurately, early. Speaking of White Teeth D he has flown back to Bermuda for the weekend (without inviting me...!), and has undoubtedly spent the day soaking up the sun. (I won't try to hide my envy.) Wouldn't it be lovely being on a beach right now?
L'Esthete @ 01:38
