death of the author: le blog est mort
2005-06-12 9:37 p.m.

I have become too boring to update: life involves work, more work, tennis, more work, coxing bumps, more work, coaching utterly shit crews, more work, swimming, more work, long drawn out on off thing with pickled trouble boy K, more tennis, more work. Occasional swanky college dinners. Getting dumped repeatedly by other people, probably because i don't find them inspiring in the first place. A few hours every few weeks with K is enough to make me realise how much more there is to life, than all these lightweights can offer. It's mean of me but I don't like unequal relationships.

Some work in Scotland last week, Czech republic next week. Travel is fun, transiently, before I become fretful and want to return to cambridge and K; however my heart is not really in the science. I'm also not doing anything remotely useful these days. I don't know what i want to do- medicine? I'd at least be doing something useful, but i'd be 45 by the time i could get the most junior consultant's position... staying in fenland fills me with fear of sitting round here forever waiting for a lectureship and then being unemployed at 50. Having fought my way tooth and nail through the PhD and lymphoma, I now have very little to make me depressed, but can't shake off the gloom except in the 5 minutes after K has reassured me that everything will be all right. Now even that is stopping: he has got himself a professorial chair and a directorship up north in the town of bluestone terraces, and is leaving. The gloom is pervasive, though i am happy his career is going so well.

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