one hundred days

The 100 day milestone of 'rona lockdown sure did hit hard. I cried and napped almost exclusively for two days straight, something I haven't done in a while. 
Last week was euphoric. I wrote in my notes whilst sitting on the train that it felt blissful and delightfully exciting. 

it feels like there is so much to look forward to, and nothing to dread. I suppose I hope it can never get as bad or as strict or as lonely or as scary as it was

(side note: i rlly hate the new blogger, and can no longer work out how to make pics good quality - any tips??)

I sort of wish I'd documented the feelings a little better but I managed to see some of my favourite faces, get drunk multiple times, and visit the place most dearest to my heart. Beautiful highlights include lying in the sun of Hyde Park with my best friend, drinking cider, laughing, marvelling in total awe at finally seeing each other. The sunny botanic gardens and feeling a warmth and freedom. Sitting under a tree in the rain, and then in Radcliffe Square drinking gin in the golden silence, and nearly missing yet another train. Crying to another friend at the overwhelming emotions of it all. 
Yesterday, I lay on my floor surrounded by my miscellaneous belongings and paper and copious books and just cried and cried. I felt so much. I think the last fourteen weeks finally sort of sunk in, what I had missed, how much I adore my friends and how much it hurt that I couldn't spend blissful summer months with them. Visiting Oxford was magical and felt like home but walking into my locked room, left as a total still of the before corona times, felt alien and outdated. I sort of struggle to remember that that life belonged to me. 

I also think it sort of hit home that the elated trajectory I had idealised last week of endless progression just isn't true and life isn't going to revert, no matter how much I sanitise my hands or dream of it disappearing. 

So 'rona is bringing some odd feelings this week. I am feeling uneasy about turning twenty-one, am lost in an odd self-contempt and worthlessness, and I have a lot of thoughts I need to process about endings and beginnings and what it all means. This summer, really, is mostly just work. I have a lot to get through and focus on, and I suppose a pandemic is the best time to do it. I've got a dissertation to research (and apparently 'start writing' by the end of summer to 'front load'), and a plethora of pre-reading to tackle for next term. It is terrifying that this will be my last paper and my last 8 weeks of essays written in 4 days and 400 years of history learned in 2. I need to figure out what might come *next*, and try not to get caught up in the 'not-doing-enough' rhetoric. My degree is enough, surviving a pandemic is enough, and accepting the emotional exhaustion is enough. But it's hard to feel that when everyone around you seems to be succeeding and creating and exploring. I'm dreaming of summer plans that oscillate between illegal and improbable, and exciting and spontaneous. I am trying to exist in the thrill of promise and possibility, and not living beyond next the next seven days, even if I can't stop thinking of Paris. 

Today, I am making bagels, trying to avoid the headache induced by too many hours on my phone, walking my usual route and trying to make progress with Reading Lolita in Tehran. There also remains a mountain of shit to put away, washing to do and hoarded items to part with. 

Has the centenary of corona brought any odd feelings for y'all?

some reading and listening

Long time, no see. 
It's been a lot, these past few weeks. A lot for all of us in so many different ways and to so many different degrees. But it's been an important shift in discourse and privilege checking and awareness. In 'obsessed with I May Destroy You', Sophie Duker refers to the bc* world as 'the before times', before 'the world disintegrated' and I loved this description. But the disintegration is in so many ways important. It'd be interesting to consider whether there was a correlation between activism nd corona – maybe privileged white people (like me) feel they have more time to understand, study, research, are more open to other people's stories, recognise that their liberties have been curtailed perhaps for the first time ever, and perhaps reflect upon this. Of course, dialogue relating to race, discrimination, inequality etc has been going on forever, but maybe corona offered the spark to get white people to sit up and listen. But maybe it's all just a chronological coincidence. 
Either way, I've thought a lot, read a lot, listened a lot in these past few weeks. 

Some really good stuff, of varying degrees of educational zeal, entertainment, culture and generally black voices in spaces where they don't exclusively talk about race (not because this isn't so important but because sometimes feel the mainstream media only thinks it necessary to involve people of colour when its about race) include:

Pose (for the Latino/African-American LGBTQ+ scene in '80s New York - both heartbreaking and heart warming in equal measure), I May Destroy You (for a raw, hilarious, cutting exposition of being a woman, being a woman of colour, being a millennial, culture of consent, micro-aggressions, just what the real world is actually like (there are so many scenes that are just not in usual TV but which happen everyday (and show how fake tv usually is – which isn't always a bad thing of course) – e.g. when she is in the toilet w/ her friend and puts a pad in with no reference to her period), Obsessed with I May Destroy You (BBC Sounds podcast, a funny review of the show and its reflection of the experiences of black women in Britain – also she has some sick guests, and along with the actual show it feels like the BBC is finally waking up from its prude watershed conservatism a bit??), Growing up with Galdem podcast (for safe, real conversations about childhood through a diary entry/letter/text message from their younger selves – there's also an episode w/ Michaela Cole which I need to listen to asap). 
In terms of more academic tings I've read a lot about race in feminism, which has made me realise a lot and think a lot. Piercing the White Silence by Terese Jonsson, as well as Reni Eddo-Lodge's chapter on feminism for current issues in the feminist movement. Hazel Carby's 1982 article 'White Women Listen!' is a very important read for white feminists, and was crucial to the '80s Black feminist movement. All three are easy reads. And finally, I am half way through Reading Lolita in Tehran which, whilst perhaps different in its topics, is still crucial and shocking but so rich and full. It takes me an hour just to read a few pages because every word feels like a gift, and sometimes  I have to just put it down and think about their trauma and their ceaseless search for escapism.

In terms of stuff I want (but haven't yet had time) to watch/read/listen to:
Watch 13th, and alongside that read Angela Davis – both Women, Race and Class, and Are Prisons Obsolete? And I want to read the rest of bell hooks Ain't I a Woman. Some of my good friends have set up an online feminist theory reading group (called Theory4Thotz, open to all (not exclusive to Oxford at all – find it on fb and insta) that discusses some of the major feminist texts. They've chatted about Adrienne Rich's Compulsory Heterosexuality, Beauvoir's The Second Sex, Womanism, Black Feminism and Beyond by Patricia Hill Collins and bell hooks' Feminist Theory from Margin to Centre, alongside others. I've got quite a lot to catch up on but boy am I excited to get more into it now term is done. For some reason I am really enjoying reading academia just for the sake of it. 

I've also watched and listened and read a lot of other (good) but less informative stuff – see: Wimbledon (the film), How to Fail w/ Daisy Edgar Jones, Exciting Times by Naoise Dolan, Portico Quartet Knee Deep in the North Sea for working music. 

In other news, term finished yesterday. It concluded with a coursework practice, whereby I had to write 3 essays in 3 days. Grim. But I am mighty proud of myself of surviving a term at home. I actually have *plans* this week, and am seeing (almost) all my favourite people in a variety of convoluted ways. I remember this time last year writing in my diary that I was the happiest I had ever been. Right now, as I sit outside in the sun with nothing to do and nowhere to be, except to drink in the park with my friends tonight like we are 16 again, I sort of feel the same, but in a very different way. I guess I can finally see the corona light and the thought of seeing my best friend tomorrow (admittedly after a train journey with a mask and a lot of hand sanitiser) after fourteen weeks, and beautiful Oxford in the sun on Saturday, makes me so excited I might wee myself. 
Man, it sure has been a lot!
Please send podcast recs and reading recs, and come to the reading group because its an hour and half of the most enlightening and safe discussions w/ two of the cleverest gals I know.
Oh, and it's nice to be back!

*before corona, obvs

friendship in quarantine

Post-tutorial, I sat on the phone with a friend for a few hours whilst I coloured and we chatted about corona and books and our feelings. She asked me how I'd be finding friendship in lockdown, and I replied that in all honesty, its been a bit odd. So much of friendship is built on shared experience, and obviously the pandemic has put a stop to that. I've read a lot of 'dating in lockdown' articles, which I find generally entertaining, and sometimes perplexing, but weirdly not much about friendship. But it sure has been weird.

The fatigue of Zoom is mounting, and after 10 weeks, I am craving some real-life social contact. A 2D pixilated image just doesn't quite cut it, when all you want to do is hug your friends. I've had some warming and loving hours spent on FaceTime, when I'm reminded just how lucky I am, but after I've closed my laptop and am in my silence, I'm often left feeling just a little sadder that they can't be here with me.
And sometimes it feels I've got nothing left to say, can only ask so many times how someone is or reply with the usual 'oh you know, getting through'. I sometimes worry I've forgotten how to socialise properly. Somewhere I read that you shouldn't ask a virtual chirpse how their day is because 'newsflash: it was probably as boring as yours', and whilst I actually do like this question and the care and interest it suggests, the implicit message that nothing much is happening to anyone carries a lot of weight. And it really doesn't bode well for dynamic conversation. For me, the topics are predominantly either corona or work. Both are undoubtedly of some interest, but god I'd like an hour of post-night-out gossip or hysterical laughter. I feel like I'm definitely not laughing as much.
All this virtual communication has also highlighted just how much conversing exists beyond the language used. Movements, pauses, expression cannot be discerned through a screen - without them conversation can be stilted or endlessly overlapped. With so many of my friends, I love their presence as much as their conversation but silence doesn't carry the same comfort when translated over the internet. Of course, we all know how 'lucky we are' to be in the age of the internet and to be able to see and talk to those we miss and man I couldn't have got through with out it, but boy its also a lot and no real comparison for real life!

I'm also finding some of the expectation of communication exhausting, that the friendship has become virtual and exists solely online can be empty and unrewarding, but that not speaking to them also feels empty and makes me worry I'll lose them. Everyone is available all the time, but such an expectation creates a weird paradox of both being overwhelmed and madly lonely.
Last week, I deleted most of my social media and god it was relieving to just exist in this space. Little feels tangible the moment and sometimes talking to people who aren't really there simply perpetuates this disassociation. But, I then felt sad, because no one had messaged me and the lockdown loneliness ensued. Yikes!
I found a random shitty tweet a few weeks ago along the lines of 'remember who isn't replying to you at the moment and what this shows about whether they care' and I've thought a lot about the expectation this puts on people. Replying can be exhausting and draining and god, sometimes I just want to leave it a few hours or a few days, and really, does it matter?
There's an immediacy and a constancy to lockdown friendship, in a bizarrely transient and distant way. It's both there all the time and not there at all. It makes you feel both full and empty, loved and lonely. And I simultaneously want to spend no time on my own, and all my time on my own. Does anyone else get this?

This madness has, however, also imbued some beautiful strength and longevity to relationships. It's made me reach out to old friends more and spend more hours talking to my g's who I don't get to see, corona or not. It's led to notes in the post, and cakes on doorsteps, and book suggestions and unexpected phone calls and messages saying they love you. It's made me think a lot about who matters the most to me, and what I value in friends.

Last week I had a bit of a meltdown that I didn't think I could see my friends again, that I'd forgotten how to socialise, wouldn't enjoy it, wouldn't know what to say. Obviously, this was irrational angst. It doesn't really matter what I say or do, just seeing them will be enough. But I definitely think there is an unspoken weirdness to friendship in quarantine. An empty intensity that leaves you both connected and lonely, and mostly just reinforces how much you long for something like normalcy.


This week has been a bit stifling. I am, for the first time, really craving independence and freedom. I've always loved home, love coming home, and in my year out I didn't really feel I wanted to escape, even though it was predominantly me and my parents and not much other entertainment. But now more than ever I am feeling the need to break free. I've tried changing my walks, running further and further, to new places, but I still feel confined. Its been 9 weeks, and now I am yearning to live on my own and just be in my own space and thoughts and time. Home is quiet and calm and really very nice, but I just want to be back on my own. I've looked into renting a room in Ox for a month over the summer. I don't even really care if any of my friends are in the city, I just want to be able to walk in the meadows and do my own food shop and ring home with updates, rather than having the same conversations everyday over breakfast. I know living alone in a pandemic absolutely would not be this idyllic, and I'd probably get stuck and lonely and want to come home, but in my head, for 4 blissful sunny weeks, it feels like the dream. So maybe that can happen, although what's the point of planning ahead any more?
I've thinking about the phrase the 'new normal' and how everyone says they want life to go 'back to normal' and how much I really fuckin' don't want normality because now this is the normal. Everything is so known in a totally unknown world and my surroundings feel worn out and overdone. You know what every day is going to bring, everywhere you are going to go, that you'll wake up the next day and nothing will have changed. There are no surprises, just the moment of bliss when you wake up before you think 'for fuck sake' and remember the crisis. I want change and excitement, not anything with a semblance of normality.

So I'm feeling a bit stifled and a bit trapped. My city is beautiful and the moments when I'm out running and its sunset are magical or when we drive to the country for a walk and I'm giddy at the change of scenery, but god I just want something new. I want to be away from my parents (lol) and living my own life and making my own decisions, and I just want something to be surprising. It sure is such a strange dichotomy, that in a world so wildly uncertain, where no sense of the future exists, can feel so fuckin normal and boring. 

Is anyone else feeling this !

the read and the to-read

Mondays have, blissfully, become my days off. Snatched time between panicked essay writing and opening up my reading list to start the next week of work. I do actually have a tutorial and a meeting today, but the rest of the day is for myself. The empty time spent at home is so different to that in Oxford, neither better nor worse. Here it is spent on my own, reading or watching Normal People or calling my friends or walking. At Oxford its almost always filled with the jobs I didn't have time to do (Tesco, washing, post-office) and then probably the pub. I'm trying to see this new slower pace as a chance to catch up with myself.
There's been a lot more time to read, and because my screen time on my laptop has been exponential, I've been trying to make myself do it more. I've read quite a lot of good stuff, and there are a few books I'm looking forward to buying or borrowing when I get a chance. I've also started writing in my books a lot, I think perhaps its fallout from my degree, but its nice to look back and see what I found pertinent at the time. On another note, this post from Eleanor is excellent to find non-Amazon places to buy your books in the time of Corona.

(Brideshead Revisited was sent to a friend to remind her of Oxford, the Go-Between made its way to Italy for my friends birthday, along with a list of things to 'look out for')

Atonement, Ian McEwan – okay, I didn't really like Atonement. I don't even remember it that well. To me, it felt like a diluted version of The Go-Between, with the same almost claustrophobic rising  pressure, culminating in a pivotal and destructive event that will change the whole course of the book. But, I didn't much like the characters and didn't really live up to the reviews ('smoulders with slow-burning menace', 'brilliantly explores the currents of guilt, shame and anger...utterly satisfyingly complete'). In terms of McEwan, I thought The Children's Act was far more powerful and the character development much more evocative.

Girl, Woman, Other, Bernadine Evaristo– oh, I loved this. I'd been wanting to read it ever since my tutor mentioned it and treated myself after my last essay. It follows 12 different (kind of intertwined) black women and their experience of racism and feminism in Britain. It seems to cover every kind of life experience you could imagine, and I love the way they are all subtly connected. I did find some of the characters more compelling than others, but they were all deep and powerful and wildly eye opening. Its one of those clever books that manages to tackle the heavy realities in a readable and page-turning way. Would highly recommend.

Late in the Day, Tessa Hadley - this was another post-essay treat. If I'm honest, I just liked the cover, but it turned out to be so good. Much of the plot happens in the first few pages, but its the intricacies of their relationship that are so powerful. The way she builds jealousy and contempt and complicated spiky connections between people feels so real. As with so much fiction at the moment, it doesn't use speech marks – as a concept, I am apathetic  but I think it kind of works in this? It means you focus on the characters and the sentiment of what is being said so much more than the words.
"...guileless and voluble, transparent in this moods, sometimes he sank deep into himself and needed to be alone for a few hours" 
"...for who would care about their passion in three hundred years?"
"...if I try to imagine eternity, I think it might feel like an English pub on a Saturday afternoon" 

The Veiled Woman
, Anaïs Nin - this was sort of hilarious to read, and sort of amazingly transgressive. Its 4 different pieces of quasi-erotica (?). They were written in the '40s (and published in the '70s) which feels madly radical considering their content, and surely marks some kind of feminist victory. Some are weird and uncomfortable, but others are uncharacteristically liberal and free. I love it for the radicalism of a woman writing so openly about transgressive sex in the 1940s, and the language and description is beautiful. Maybe not one to recommend to your mum though lol.

The Beekeeper of Aleppo, Christy Lefteri - Oh, man I loved this! My mum picked it up for me in Sainsbury's (yeh, I was immediately sceptical), but not only is it sensationally written but its also so sobering. You realise how easy this pandemic is for so many of us. How we're safe at home with our books and our furlough schemes and how endlessly destructive life is for those in Syria and other war zones. I love how it alternates between past and present. Its wonderfully easy to read but the language is beautiful and would totally recommend it, especially right now.
"...when she was sad my world was dark. I didn't have a choice about this. She was more powerful than I. She cried like a child, laughed like bells ringing, and her smile was the most beautiful I've ever seen. She could argue for hours without ever pausing. Afra loved, she hated, and she inhaled the world like it was a rose. All this was why I loved her more than life"
"But what I loved most was her laugh. She laughed like we would never die"
" makes my sadness feel like something palpable, like a pulse, but it makes me afraid too, afraid of fate and chance, and hurt and harm, of the randomness of pain, how life can take everything from you all at once"
"If only we had known what life would bring. But if we had known, what would we have done? We would have been too afraid too live, too afraid to be free and to make plans"

The Flatshare, Beth O'Leary – this is another Sainsbury's buy, but I wanted something trashy – apparently its similar to Normal People. If I'm honest, any kind of page-turning romance will do, but I just want something deliciously addictive and mindless.

Sweet Sorrow, David Nicholls – ever since I heard him talking about this on the High Low last summer, this has been on my list. It's a summer love story of two 16 year olds, an exploration of first love and heartbreak. It doesn't come out in paperback until the summer, which perhaps is a good thing because I'm not sure my brain has the space of a Nicholl's young love story whilst I'm stuck inside, but either way – I love his writing and him in general, so I know it'll be good.

Why I'm no longer talking to white people about race, Renni Eddo-Lodge – i've been wanting to read this for years, but after my tutor recommended it last week in our feminism tute I know I need to get my hands on it. I think it'll be the next socially distant exchange with my friend.

And now I am left with a few empty hours on my hands, and a chai latte to drink. I might knit, my jumper halted a few weeks back when I made a catastrophic mistake, and now I'm not sure I even like the colour any more. Or maybe I'll crochet, I'm trying to teach myself to do something more useful than just make squares, but it'll never compete with Eleanor's, that's for sure.

Let me know what you've been reading, and any recommendations you have!

musings #9

I love the colours of this weeks moodboard. Its funny, I never intentionally save things with a theme in mind, but there sure is a blue-y, spring like quality to these pictures. They feel vibrant and hopeful, which is a nice contrast to the mood of my brain. I especially adore the Van Gogh. It makes me think of summer days abroad and picnics. What i'd do to have one of those on the horizon. Of course, there are also numerous pictures of Oxford taking up my insta at the moment. I still get a warmth in my stomach when I turn the corner to see those layered buildings, it sure does make me happy. I'm dreaming of the day I can stroll along the streets and sit in a creaking library. 

Its been an anxious one, y'all. I've cried and read in almost equal amounts, my days have been spent either working or worrying, both of which feel unfulfilling. My health anxiety is horrifically overwhelming, which makes sense considering the global climate, but it is uncontrollable, especially without access to my usual coping mechanisms. So i've sort of had to just sit and be with the thoughts, which is horrible and scary. But hey, who's really having a ball in this pandemic?
Other than worrying, I've written a lot of letters, painted a lot of watercolour flowers, done the same walk at 11am for 7 days in a row, started Brideshead Revisited to vicariously experience Trinity term, spent hours on Zoom, a night doing a jigsaw because it was the only thing that could put my mind at rest, and not much else. Oh, I've taken a lot of pics on PhotoBooth. I guess to remember all the hours I spent at my desk procrastinating?
This week I really am hoping to get back into hobbies, and want to fill my grey time a little more productively so my brain can't spiral so catastrophically. I'm thinking journalling, painting, puzzling, running, reading. The things I know make me feel good but get neglected in the blur of this madness. 
In other equally mundane news, I've been spending a lot of time on Seol+Gold looking at rings. I really want a thick silver band, but am undecided on design and size - they have too many ! I'm also finding myself being lured into a consumeristic trap, which is difficult when a) most of my clothes are trapped in Oxford b) my student loan came through and c) I need some incentive to work. But I am resisting, and trying to raid my sisters wardrobe instead. I also did a (socially distant) book and puzzle swap with my friend the other day and, not only will it keep me sufficiently occupied for a few weeks, but it was also so refreshing to see a new face. Eek!

Drink up some of the sun and the colour of the pics, soon we'll be out there enjoying it. 

(pics are:
@lesparisiennesdumonde @spiralling_oxford @vangoghmuseum @marcello_velho @charlotte.ager @mansfieldoxford (<3) @seolgold @refinery29 @seolgold @maddierothart

(un)misspent youth

I sat down to do some work, took one look at the myriad of sources I need to read, felt overwhelmed and then gave up. Luckily, this has not been too much of a trend over the past few days. I do find it difficult to know how much work to be doing. Last term was so ridiculous that it became the norm to read and write an essay in 2 days, which obviously isn't good. But now anything else feels too much? And because I have less structural commitment, less need to cram it all in, less excuse to not do it, I feel quite lost and confused. Yuck!

this is as wild as its got people !

Let's be real, quarantine got to me this week. Don't you find it comes it fits and bursts? I had one afternoon of solid tears, and some realisations of interminability. I spent most evenings on zoom, feeling both comforted and distanced. I've ran a lot which has made my head feel free and perhaps offered some purpose, which has been comforting because everything else feels sort of pointless.

I've been thinking a lot about wasted youth, which is melodramatic and so irrational but apparently also quite a common and disconcerting feeling? I was on the phone to my friend yesterday and she said "Katie, I just can't help feeling like I'm loosing my best years", and boy did this resonate.
I suppose its the realisation that these weeks/months/years(?) of freedom and excitement and hedonism are being borne out at home. And that, instead sacking off work to go to the pub, or staying out until 4 or spending all my money on chai lattes, I'm at home knitting, reading and not much else. And I see myself being freed from quarantine and being too old to do all the things I would be cramming my days with now. I am especially overwhelmed with this sentiment when I put on nice clothes and draw on some eyeliner to feel some semblance of coherence, and then look in the mirror and remember no one will even see my orange trousers.
I look at my parents and think "you're life hasn't changed much, your life won't change much, but mine has all fallen away", which is selfish but also quasi-true, in a dramatic kind of way.
I'm scared that the rest of my degree will be spent like this, that I'll never again experience the chaos and the drama and the Saturday mornings gossiping. That it'll never be new or free again, that I'll be burdened by responsibility and adult seriousness.

Now trust me, I see the melodramatic hysteria of these words. That if a vaccine isn't found for 18 months, I'll still only be 22, and even then I can make up for lost time. And there are far bigger problems going on in the world, and really I'm being ridiculous. But I am still grieving the pain of loosing the thing I love most in the world, and am recognising that we all are undergoing some degree of loss - whether its for a person or a life or a favourite place. I feel like my wings have been clipped, after having been spread so wide and feeling so free.
And the interminability of it terrifies me sometimes, thinking of the next 8 weeks, then of summer, and then of the autumn. Not knowing when it'll end.

When I get into these spirals of decadent sentimentality (and trust me it happens a lot, when I think of all the fun I could be engaged in, or hell even just the alone Tesco trips and the nights in with friends) I firstly indulge in it, as I've done here.
I let myself feel really fuckin' angry that I'll be entering the world with a humanities degree and a *fucked* economy, mourn for the nights out and the dates I could have (but absolutely wouldn't have) gone on and disgustingly expensive pubs and the self-destructive intensity of life. I probably rant to a friend about how I feel my prime is being wasted and tbh what's the point because I'm going to be old and haggard when this is over, having never found love.
And then I think rationally. Rationally about the timescale, about historical comparison (every pandemic ever has ended), scientific advancement (every pandemic ever has ended, and most without a vaccine), welfare state (every pandemic ever has ended, and most without a vaccine, and without a free health service) my complete privilege, that at 22 I can still do all the things, and that they'll still be exciting.
I remind myself that everyone has lost something, and everyone is grieving for normality. And I also tell myself that this will end. That yes, the young are going to suffer enormously economically, but we'll can also (mostly) guarantee we'll get through it. So I think of the end. The people I'm gonna hug, and the places I'm gonna go, and how intensely I'm gonna soak up every drop of life.

I know this is ridiculously dramatic, but girl has got to feel! Please tell me someone else has these moments of narcissism?!

things i miss

Man, its been an odd week. I somehow got tonsillitis (??) which tbh feels a bit irrelevant as an illness at the moment, and I spent much of it either asleep, watching Unorthodox (so SO good!!), crocheting or feeling sorry for myself. It was so lovely and sunny outside, and I could see pink blossom and blue skies from my bed, but I didn't really leave that spot of warmth for much of it.
But today I am finally feeling better. I managed to do some work, eat without crying and go for a walk. I've also read a lot, which has been lovely.

Of course, there is the major and inevitable disclaimer that I know how privileged I am to even be able to stay at home (I saw not 'stuck at home but safe at home' on insta the other day and I rlly liked the perspective) and for these things to be some of my most major concerns nd heartbreaks. I really am just taking the piss a bit, they're very small things that really make me realise how perfect pre/post-corona life is/will be. But in a recent episode of the high-low, Pandora Sykes talked about a thread she did of the most meaningless things people missed. Its sort of heartwarming.
So here are some things I really miss, and some things I can't wait to do.

I am sad that:
Libby and I can't go on holiday together and get lost in the sun and do drunk friendship quizzes
I can't have that warm fuzzy excitement of driving into Ox for a new term
I can't lie on the quad avoiding work
I can't sit in the library with the open window rustling my pages
I'm sad that I can't watch my friends being trashed and jump in the river
I'm sad that I can't come home for summer, because there is something so magical about that
I can't go on a late summer walk on the moor with my friends
I can't dance in a dress at a ridiculously overpriced ball with my feminist gals
I can't pack my bag, and prepare my lunchbox

I can't wait to:
Hug my friends, and not let go of them.
Walk on the beach.
Sit in cafes, working for hours on end.
Drink a chai latte and taste the sweet dry cinamonny-ness
sit in the pub in the afternoon sun and laugh and laugh and laugh
walk in fields with lambs
go to an art gallery, oh my!
Sit on a 8hr coach, reading my book, and not even being bitter about the gross toilets
Buy a postcard
Go into a library ! and hear the silence !
Fill up a disposable camera with holiday pictures and get the developed on a dark december day
have my hair cut by someone other than my sister
have someone other than my cat appreciate my outfit
walk around the park on the phone
go to the cinema with Libby, because I've never met someone so enthusiastic about the cinema
have an iconic night out with Evie, and laugh about it endlessly for weeks to come

We're learning a lot, and will continue to find good things amongst it all. I really liked this article that Dolly shared on a recent High Low episode (can we believe its back!!!!), and would thoroughly recommend.
Tomorrow I really really need to get work under control–next week is 0th week, which I had scheduled in an at-home collection (mock exams we get at the start of every term) but that certainly won't be happening. Instead I need to read all of last term's primary sources (that I didn't have time to read) and prep for 1st weeks essay. Yikes!
What things are you guys missing? And what can you not wait to do once this is all over?