It’s really difficult to explain quite how liberated I feel, having submitted my thesis last week. While there hasn’t been the big party I expected to have upon finishing it as yet (Saturday night notwithstanding), I nonetheless have felt the finality of it all (I hope). The simple fact is that I can once again engage with my day-to-day existence without the weight of unfinished business hanging on a chain around my neck, like some kind of toasted, ornamental albatross. Suck on that metaphor.
My other projects can resume, now: my writing, The Line (should Damian let me get involved), my job (substantially reduced in stress, hopefully), and, or course, getting back to the gym. I can’t wait.
This weekend was genuinely relaxing. As well as booking the hostel for my holiday in Tallinn this coming weekend (woo! although technicall, Matt did the booking…), I watched the entertaining Kissing Jessica Stein on video on Friday, and had dinner at the really outstanding Malabar in Notting Hill on Saturday. The duck curry was particularly impressive, and was washed down nicely with a very affordable house red — the occassion, which spawned out of a kind of spontaneous apathy on the behalf of a number of my friends (it was more complicated than that, but not more interesting) resulted in a last minute booking having to be made by myself – for 16 people.
It was a really great night – and we popped over to the Notting Hill Arts Club to finish the evening off in appropriate style. That was a great venue, even if it was a little loud for the conversations I ended up having (didn’t really feel the dancing vibe). Was huge fun, if I spent a little more money than I should have.
Sunday saw the revival, for me, of Boggle (I’m really out of practice!), I narrowly defeated Damian at chess when we both lost interest in waiting for each other to move, and Damo, Marionus, Turnermator and I popped down to my local Screen to watch The Bourne Supremacy, which, despite my absolute loathing of Matt Damon, proved very entertaining, even if Franka Potente was less attractive than she seemed to me in Run Lola Run.
In part due to the recommendation of Michael and Alex, the very capable painters who’ve been in this weekend fixing all the damage Arvind has inflicted on his room over the years, I popped down to the Notting Hill Carnival today. It was an interesting experience; although categorically, I think, not my scene: I was a little disappointed that I didn’t enjoy it more. Turns out I am that cynical and cloistered, after all. Don’t know who I was trying to kid with that, really.
Still, a great weekend. I’ve discovered that Blogger keeps profiles, so if you’re curious as to how much I’ve blogged since this site went live in September, check this out. Sayonara for now; expect more regular posts now, hopefully with some interesting and original content of a nature that isn’t excessively philosophical…