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ravenWhy am I up so stupidly early, I hear you ask? It seems that in their infinite wisdom, the college decided to have a fire drill at eight o'clock in the morning. My crazy brain having only (grudingingly) allowed me to sleep at about three, I am now less than pleased. It's not worth my going back to bed, because Logic surgery is at nine and UK Politics at Schools at ten (watch me hare down Turl Street in manner of authentic student). Siiiigh.
I should have done at least some Logic yesterday, but I decided to have coffee and various wandering round Oxford with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wadiekin, while also remotely helping with a crisis; Claire, in London, has lost her purse on the Oxford Tube, with money, cards, pre-paid food, Bod card, everything. Therefore I was running around trying to get numbers for her to call, and then Pat had the genius idea for us to meet the bus she went on as it comes back to Oxford at six. Unfortunately she had this genius idea at five to six, and consequently we ended up sprinting down towards Cornmarket trying not to dodge the tourists and just got there in time. Nothing doing, though. They say to call up this morning.
In the meantime, I have to print off Logic, which is taking over my life. In the very very good news category, I've been given the chance to give it up! I have to survive this week and then convince Bob that really, Logic and I are better off seeing other people and that I should do Mill instead. But this week, Logic is not survivable. It features truth-tables (which I like) and propositional tableaux (which I don't) and enough work to make a beaver cry. I've had five hours' sleep! I cannot cope with this!
I wish Claire would hurry up and get back, and that today would hurry up and be over. Logic. Waaah. I think I shall go to Blackwell's on the way back from Schools and buy a book, any book. I want some sort of indulgence, and I have been distractedly munching cookies since being jerked out of bed. (At 35p a packet, I think I get through a lot of them.)
Sigh. Logic.
I should have done at least some Logic yesterday, but I decided to have coffee and various wandering round Oxford with
wadiekin, while also remotely helping with a crisis; Claire, in London, has lost her purse on the Oxford Tube, with money, cards, pre-paid food, Bod card, everything. Therefore I was running around trying to get numbers for her to call, and then Pat had the genius idea for us to meet the bus she went on as it comes back to Oxford at six. Unfortunately she had this genius idea at five to six, and consequently we ended up sprinting down towards Cornmarket trying not to dodge the tourists and just got there in time. Nothing doing, though. They say to call up this morning.In the meantime, I have to print off Logic, which is taking over my life. In the very very good news category, I've been given the chance to give it up! I have to survive this week and then convince Bob that really, Logic and I are better off seeing other people and that I should do Mill instead. But this week, Logic is not survivable. It features truth-tables (which I like) and propositional tableaux (which I don't) and enough work to make a beaver cry. I've had five hours' sleep! I cannot cope with this!
I wish Claire would hurry up and get back, and that today would hurry up and be over. Logic. Waaah. I think I shall go to Blackwell's on the way back from Schools and buy a book, any book. I want some sort of indulgence, and I have been distractedly munching cookies since being jerked out of bed. (At 35p a packet, I think I get through a lot of them.)
Sigh. Logic.
