I'm handing in my essay and two chapters for assessment this afternoon, and then I'm going to get some cherry beer with my MA homies. I'm not sure if I've spelled that properly, but it won't matter once we get our hands on the beer. Then tomorrow I'll get cracking on the next sections, and resume reading for the up-coming semester. I shall spend hours printing things and I might underline stuff too. Oh, yes.
Now, I know this all sounds thrilling; but in fact, I do lead a very high-faluting lifestyle. I was in Sheffield just last Friday for the opening of my boyfriend's latest art exhibition. He's got a photographic installation in a group show, Instinct, curated by Claire Blundell Jones and Victoria Lucas. If you're in Sheffield this week, it's in an old shop space on the Moor and is on until Friday, 12-6. His name's Andy Broadey. Go, go, go.
(If you want to do it the way we did it, though - the proper way - you'll have to go out afterwards to the Washington pub and get completely pissed and dance to 1950's rock'n'roll all night. Thoroughly recommended.)