It’s a lovely warm sunny day, which is obviously rare in England, and I’m stuck in the library working on my dissertation.

Thankfully, some kind person has plugged in a fan behind me, and I’m well equipped with water so it’s okay, but nowhere near as good as being outside. For some reason, my hayfever hasn’t really kicked in yet so I’m a bit sniffly, but otherwise coping well

I’m in one of the science libraries, since it’s closer to my house and I don’t need any books (wouldn’t be much chance anyway at this time of year). It’s weird, like stepping back in time, because I’ve been sitting near at least three people I was in halls with in first year. Pretty much shows how many scientist friends I have; Bethany and Gilly walk into the arts library and know loads of people (as I should, being an arts student); for me it’s the science library I see most people I know/my friends in, even though I’d never been here until about February when I came to pick up some linguistics books. It quickly became a frequent haunt for me; closer to my house, much less crowded than the arts library even at this time of the year, and a hideaway from those arts students that see the library as a place to spend three hours getting ready for it then use it as an excuse to table hop.

This year I’ve made even more scientist friends, joining the geek societies and everything. I just feel more relaxed around people who aren’t constantly judging me or being really two-faced, negative, or any of the other attributes that seem to be so common amongst arts students here. Also, it’s a relief not to be around people who weigh about 7 stone.

Once I’ve finished this essay, I’m done. My undergraduate course will be over, and in a couple of months, I’ll have letters after my name and a photograph of me in a stupid hat, which my sister will no doubt make some horrible (but true) comment about. I’m so ready to move on. I have next year planned and sorted already, unlike a lot of people I know who have no idea what they’re doing. It’s all good. Kind of scary at the same time though. But it’s fine, I still look about 16. I can still pretend I’m a teenager (if I really, really want to).

After my diss. is done, I’ll have written over 22,000 words this semester – and that’s just work I’ve handed in, not drafts or notes or plans or emails or anything. Not that much left to go now, it’s pretty much done in draft form. For anyone interested in the topic, it’s about rape. The official title relates to ideological and material power in Chaucer and Gower, but it’s actually just about rape. I’m not entirely sure how that happened, but meh. No matter what I get in it, it has only a small chance of affecting my overall degree class, and I’m past the stage where I care. It’s not going to revolutionise the world, or even get Middle English critics excited. I feel kind of cheated, because I cared about it so much at the beginning. But this is what happens when you spend far too much time on Victorian theatre history instead