I didn't want this blog to be a "ow ma gawd, ma liife's awl messed ap!" blog, but more of a "What what what?" effort. Unfortunately I feel compelled to type about my workload. It is horrendous. I doubt Winston Churcill, when he saw in the distance the fleet of German bombers and foighters rapidly approching our little isle, felt as daunted as I did when confronted with 4, count them, 4 3000 word essays. One of them involved King Arthur. The others did not.
However, I am now rapidly approaching the End Game. With two of these gargantuan scriptures out of the way, and another halfway through, I feel I am able to speak about the tortures my mind has been through. Oh god, the tortures.
Seriously though, it's been a hard slog. Almost done now though. Anyway, here's another picture from my archives. I am not in it.
This is my housemate Jon. He is sleeping
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