This morning, I had just finished an email to Activist in which (inter alia) I bitched about the fact that I still hadn't received the results of my masters degree. It was a long email, and it took quite some time to write. I was concentrating hard, since Activist's state of mind is fragile due to an ongoing battle with anorexia, and I worry about saying the wrong thing. I didn't notice the

Everyone's seen The Breakfast Club. Some, more than others: some, maybe even eight or nine times. Some of us even own the soundtrack on CD.I want you to access the deep recesses of your mind: recall the scene in the library where the kids are an hour or two into the detention and Elizabeth Daily's classic "Waiting" plays over scenes of each character undertaking various activities in a vain

I'm done! That's right, no more dissertation, no more exams, no more masters degree, EVER!! At 3pm yesterday I handed in four months' blood sweat and tears in paper form, and emerged from the building with my brain intact but teetering on the edge of the abyss.To celebrate, Cowboy and I had champagne afternoon tea in the restaurant at the top of the National Portrait Gallery, and I must say I

I rang Three Valleys. I was all set for a fight, and we went through all the blah, and they were going to do it anyway until I asked them how they are going to meter one water pipe that supplies two separate abodes, and there was some silence. Yes, it's a flat, I explained. Ah! Then they won't meter us at all, I'm told. Of course, I pointed out, Three valleys could have saved my time, her

I'm discovering what a nightmare it is to have a husband at home when you're trying to work on something really important. I'm at the stage of writing up, and so I need long blocks of time where I can focus my brain on producing 10,000 words that hang together. I do not need the siblings-in-law to come around with two babies in tow at a time that's convenient for them, so that they can

Get out your cigars, folks. My supervisor responded to my frantic "Help! I cannot compute simple statistical equations and my brain has melted. Do I really have to do this?" email. It did take her a few days because (I can only assume) she was off saving the universe from bad research projects and their consequences, as she is truly a superwoman. Her reply, long story short, was "Dude.

SPSS is giving me a major headache. I worked out yesterday that what really bugs me about this whole situation is that I have sat in front of the software with three books, the resource of the internet, and many hours, and I'm still not understanding what the hell I'm doing. This is a situation which is alien to me, though I acknowledge that it makes me sound arrogant to say so. Every so often

For the last few days I have been working even harder. On Tuesday I worked for 12 hours, which was the time it took me to finish my coding, data entry, discover and correct my errors, print out some extra articles, and tidy up. I have now moved on to the more intellectually challenging task of trying to understand statistics and SPSS. Specifically, what statistical tests I can apply to my (it

I have returned alive from my weekend, which is a nice surprise given that it involved climbing around in treetops attached to a safety wire by two metal things and some rope, thus. It was Cowboy's younger brother's birthday, and this is how he chose to spend his time. Although I was dreading it (partly because Cowboy's younger brother and his girlfriend are uberfit and fearless and I am a

Today I learned my exam result for the Theories of International Relations exam I sat in June. Amazingly, I received a mark of 'Distinction'. I'm reasonably proud of that, because it's the first ever non-law degree level timed exam I have ever taken. To say it isn't my academic area is an understatement. And, given that my participation attempts in seminars were (occasionally) openly

I'm at my parents' holiday home, on 'holiday'. I'm actually working like a dawg, coding articles for my research, while Cowboy goes Kitesurfing during the day and lounges on the sofa on his return.All that my brain can really handle at this point is a list of things that I'm finding irritating at the moment, because there's nothing interesting to do.1. Dial-up internet access.2. Eating Jacob's

My employer has made a fairly dramatic error in my favour. I negotiated with them that they would pay me for my outstanding annual leave I won't have taken by the time I depart. That's 14 days, by my calculations. So yesterday I got a letter from HR saying thank you for my service and that I would be paid for my outstanding 22 days annual leave at the end of August. This is a giant fuck-up on

Firstly, it's hotter than hell. And now the humidity is rising. I'm hoping for a giant kick-arse mega-watt storm later, but only after I've made it home from yoga.Secondly, it's still really hot and I have a social life. Yesterday I met JR outside the Borders on Oxford Street after work and we bought books. He bought books he wanted to read, and I bought books I should read. I'm getting fed up of

Today has been what is known in the 'trade' as A Bad Day.I was going to try and start coding my articles according to the instructions I have written myself. For the un-initiated, 'coding' involves analysing an article and reducing it to a set of numbers in response to questions that you ask the text. For example:Does the headline of the article contain the words 'human right' or 'human rights'

At last. At LAST. My last ever sit-in-a-room-for-three-hours-and-write-like-your-life-depends-upon-it exam has finished. I will never again have to suffer the pain and drear of days and weeks of revision culminating in a less than confident feeling about the requirements being reached. At least this year it rained throughout the revision period, which was strangely comforting. Last year

Note to Self:If, in the future, you are faced with a choice of courses to take, in order to complete some assinine personal goal you have set yourself, do not choose the courses assessed by written timed examination. Instead, plump for the ones involving essays to write at home.At least when you're writing an essay, there's a sense that something is getting done. You read bits and pieces of

Firstly, and most importantly, I passed my viva! What a bloody relief. Plus, I got 'pass, with special commendation', whatever that means: it doesn't appear on any of the available grades anywhere in the paperwork.Secondly, American 'Idol': I was very disappointed to see Paris go home last week, as I would personally have put her in the finale. I didn't think she deserved to go, especially

Today I decided that I'd try and get some of my masters project data-collection done before meeting the Scotsman for dinner. I require average daily circulation figures for all UK National daily and Sunday newspapers, for the year 2005. Doesn't sound that hard, does it?The body responsible for putting together this information reliably and without fraud is the Audit Bureau of Circulations.

I did it! I've just got back from a day that felt longer than my last meeting with The Provincials, but I made it, I didn't die, and I think I only made a mild fool of myself, in a sort of court-jester way.While I was ill, I'd built this whole Masters Dissertation Viva experience up into a huge plate of horror with a side of pain, but what I'd forgotten was that my supervisors are genuinely nice

The reason for my fear is threefold.Micro-level: On Wednesday, I have to present my 'structured and coherent' thoughts on my dissertation to my class. Orally, in front of 34 students and two supervisors, I need to justify my project, my methodology, and my mere existence. I can pass, or I can fail. Of course, it's only the supervisors' opinions that count, but why not allow everyone else the