Restless in the Sunshine

I am feeling particularly restless today which can, for the most part, be put down to the weather. The sun is shining in a clear, pale blue sky and there is not a trace of the horrendous snow/rain/fog that has dogged us since before Christmas. It's picking out the smeary Dog nose-prints on the windows (where she stands on the back of the old sofa with her nose pressed to the glass awaiting our return) but I've also noticed that there are bulbs poking through the soil and every thing feels.....full of potential.

I've also reached a natural break in my chapter and don't feel (today at least) like striking out in a new mental direction, so I am going to wait until the post is delivered - I'm expecting a copy of The Travels of John Mandeville from the Book Depository - and then take a trip into town to find a suitable coffee shop to sit and read it.

I am a great fan of coffee shops, and enjoy the sense of pseudo-community that they engender. This has been late coming to British shores and really has only arisen since the appearance of Starbucks, Nero and Costa on the high street. When I was doing my OU studies, I used to go to the Cafe Nero in the centre of town when smoking was still allowed upstairs. the ambiance was slightly bohemian and it was not unusual to see people jotting in notebooks or working on papers. When smoking became a no-no, there was not much to keep me going there - it was a bit grotty really, so I decamped to the Starbucks situated upstairs in the large (now defunct) Borders store, and that became my regular haunt. This was slightly more upmarket: men in suits held informal meetings there and smart ladies with laptops availed themselves of the free wi-fi. I got to know the staff reasonably well and quite often preferred to work there, amidst people, rather than at home alone. When I travelled to Leeds University on the train, my penchant for arriving early meant that I could call in at the Nero en route, and one of my most enduring memories of this time is the day when I'd gone extra-extra-early (it was exam time and I was paranoid about being late) and watched the morning sun gradually turn the building opposite white-gold as I sat entranced, latte and croissant to hand, my revision notes laid out in front of me.

Since the demise of Borders and its Starbucks, a new Nero has opened and has recently become the place where, if I feel the need of caffeine, I end up. I can never understand women who won't go for a cup of coffee on their own. I was surprised by a survey done recently (by Woman's Hour, I think) that revealed just how many women feel uncomfortable on their own in public, which seems to me a shocking indictment of their autonomy. Why would you NOT go for a cup of coffee if you wanted one? Why would being on your own make you feel awkward? Are you so self-obsessed that you imagine that you are constantly being scrutinised, or judged as lonely or on the pull? Oh, get over it! I actively enjoy having the time to myself, to sit down, read, people-watch, eavesdrop...it's one of life's pleasures. And one I think that I am going to indulge in later, I think.

Time and Thyme Again

The German tutor was quite specific - "Do NOT" she said "leave your assignment until the last minute. It'll take quite a few hours to make a good job of it." So here I am, with barely 48 hours to hand-in, staring at an unwritten commentary (if you can stare at something that doesn't exist). *sigh*

It's quite worrying, the way that time telescopes in on itself, like a piece of tissue paper self-crumpling before my eyes. It's all a question of priorities: I spent much of last week dividing my time on writing up a draft chapter for my next supervisory meeting, and parsing Greek verbs to form my own corpus of the Pauline verbs (don't ask - it's a long story!). I need to make steady progress with that to keep on track. Somehow, I kept back-staging the German project, although we'd had two weeks to complete it. I have done the translations (last weekend, after spending all Saturday at a conference that wasn't really relevant, as it transpired), but life just keeps getting in the way. I feel compelled to remain polite and sociable, but having a morning (actually, a couple of mornings) monopolised by someone that has no idea of the pressure I'm under or what I have to do, is making me increasingly twitchy.

Today, the Husband and daughter #3 are competing at the British Indoor Rowing Championships down in Birmingham, so a lot of yesterday was taken up by preparation for that, culminating in taxi-ing them to catch their train. Today, I had to mobilise the in-laws to take the Bright-Eyed Boy to his junior league football match as I was reading in church first thing. So I zoomed off to the pitch after delivering a section of John's Apocalypse (one of my favourite books of the Bible: super-weird!) and stood watching his team getting trounced in the biting wind. Then home again in time to catch a webcam deliver a garbled and halting coverage of the d#3's race. Then a number of phone calls to the Husband, who had recovered from his magnificent race earlier this morning (SEVEN seconds faster than his all-time PB! What a star!!), a trip to the shop to stock up on fruit, veg and bread for the week, home again to chop and cover the veg with olive-oil to slowly oven-roast with sliced pork, apples and thyme. And now it's 2.45pm and I've only just had lunch and a sit-down. No wonder I'm feeling shaky and weak. Before long they'll be on their way home, so another trip to the station will be in order, then dinner and sharing the excitement and then I'll probably keel over with a glass of wine.

Ah me! Where will I fit the German in? Tomorrow, I guess. But it's the father-in-law's birthday this week and no present's been bought yet (I know, I know). Tuesday IS German Reading Skills Day (you see, at least I remember that now), Wednesday, I have to email my portion of work in to uni for next week. Thursday, I'm actually going down to uni to do a 'presentation skills' workshop (ugh!). Then Friday, which is when my dear old Mum and Dad will probably land squarely at 10.30 and raise their eyebrows that I haven't been keeping up with current political events or even housework*. And I was up at 5.15 this morning, which doesn't help. I did manage to do some 'serious' reading on Pauline metaphors, but I'm feeling a bit stale now. I think I'll have a look at one of the poems in a few minutes and make some notes about the more obvious features. It's Lit. Crit. - you can say pretty much anything you like as long as you back it up with evidence! So I will.

* they don't understand that it ranks pretty low on this house's agendum: my Mum is still fussing around with a duster and Dad's tea on a tray at 80, and makes constant reference to cooking, gardening and busying about as having to do with woman's sense self-worth . O pur-lease!!! Rod? Own back?

The Best-Laid Plans.....

Hey ho! School hols again!

In an attempt to offset the usual miserable decline in work output that generally happens during these times, I had decided to wake up at the crack of dawn to read a chapter on Douglas Moo's excellently detailed commentary on Paul's letter to the Romans and make some notes. My long-suffering husband is quite used to my bedside light going on at bizarre times and appears to be able to sleep on until his alarm goes off. Snuggling down last night, I decided to get a least an hour of 'work' in before the household awoke. Alas for the best-laid plans! When I did finally surface, there was already a cup of tea waiting for me and the dog was whining to be let out. Husband went downstairs and busied himself with getting ready for work, and I sat up and started reading, cursing my laziness. I'm tackling a particularly tricky part of the epistle at the moment, dealing with sin, death and the law. Every commentator and interpreter has his subtly different six penn'orth and the footnotes take up more of the page than Moo's text, so it is fiendishly difficult to keep a hold on the thread of the argument. Ideally, one needs a straight couple of hours to get into the swing of it before it starts to cohere, and today it just wasn't going to happen.

I impressed on the children last night that, with no school, they could have a bit of a lie-in - but it wasn't long before I was joined by the bright-eyed boy wondering what I had lined up for the day. Groaning inwardly, I put down my book and gave him a cuddle. We'd walked the dog and were entertaining daughter no.2 and the new baby before daughter no.3 flumped wearily downstairs and started painting her nails black. I suppose I could be doing some work now, but I'm a bit distracted and just not in the mood. The evening is also out of the question: if I try to tackle anything serious after the children go to bed, I just forget it immediately or fall asleep book in hand. My bedtime reading consists of inane mush at the moment. I shall try again tomorrow. Honest, I will!

The Midnight (and Morning) Oil

Having got the nightmare that was (and is) funding application out of the way, I now find myself unsure of how to proceed. The vagaries of the church calendar have ensured that this year the Easter school holidays followed hot on the heels of spring half term, so the activities that normally spread into the better weather of April are this year confined to the still oft-chilly and windy latter end of March. We are all metaphorically drumming our fingers. Still, the absence of compulsory research has left me with the ostensibly pleasurable task of leisurely reading and the garnering of information that Might Come In Useful. The problem being that it is mostly of an ill-directed and meanderingly eclectic nature that will probably be filed in the memory bins as Ultimately Superfluous! The Latin course proceeds at an even pace. I love the acquisition of language skills, but am largely unenthused about the Classical authors that I once held very dear. Still, I am looking upon it as an additional string to my bow if I am called upon to read the Latin Church Fathers in the original during my doctoral studies. I occasionally translate a few lines of Jerome's De Viris Illustribus, which is none too difficult althought the vocabulary is somewhat outside the realms of my Oxford Pocket Latin dictionary! What I really need is the equivalent of Walter Baur's magnificent 'Greek-English lexicon of the New Testament and Other Early Christian Literature'. (I was staggeringly lucky to pick up the Index for it for a few pounds in my favourite second-hand book shops the other day - what a find!) I love Jerome's rather gossipy style and really should make time for him on a more regular basis.
Rodney Whiteacre's 'Patristic Greek Reader' is also awaiting my attention. To tell the truth I am saving it for the sunnier days when the children are back at school and I can sit outside under the vines, savour and translate some good chunks relatively undisturbed.
Boethius is my new early evening read (as a salve to my Latin conscience). I love the writings of Epictetus and feel that Boethius' 'Consolations' will slide efforlessly into the same slot. As usual I am reading further into the Pauline field in preparation for the Autumn (hopefully), however I am perennially disappointed by the way that some well-respected authors feel the need to let their own denominational prejudices show. I respect your scholarship, but do you really need to let me know that you condemn homosexuality? Did I read your book for that? No, I did not... and it has clouded my opinion of you and tainted my view of your scholarship.
Translation issues continue to absorb me: Peter Newmark's slim volume 'About Translation' is a wonderfully clear exposition of the problems facing all translators and about the impossibility of objectivity (see my previous posts). A wider foray into the realm of linguistics beckons, but without knowing what the next academic year will bring, it is hard to read in a directed fashion.
I think I need to have a back-up project in mind: my Greek needs to be kept up to speed, so I think that a textual commentary on the Greek text of Philemon may fill the gap, or possibly Philippians if next year comes to nought funding-wise. I shall tackle it as I did Galatians and it will be fun to familiarise myself with new witnesses. If I go with Philemon I may look to the UBS Greek testament apparatus criticus which contains more Church Fathers than that of NA27; if Philippians, I shall probably confine myself to the latter.
I'm afraid the Biblical Hebrew will have to wait awhile yet. It was much easier when I had a study-mate and was obliged to do prep.
I still make an unconscionable amount of time for reading drivel and regularly drowse or fall asleep over some disappointing novel or biography. I excuse myself by saying that, as I am in no fit state by this time to read anything of value, the loss of consciousness during this inanity is no loss at all!