And incidentally

The best thing ever happened a week ago, and I missed it.

(Just how great this is might only be apparent if you know the people involved and really want to hear them pretending to be Satan. Which I do. Fortunately podcasts are on their way.)

Thursday

Today was an early start with my Dickens/Collins seminar, and by dint of instant coffee I was able to remain awake throughout and even say one (1) thing that elicited a characteristic table-slapping reaction of approval from our tutor, in spite of having spent the previous evening partaking of Wii Sports, muddy-looking cocktails, curry and jazz. We discussed love triangles and cannibalism on Arctic explorations, and afterwards the other Victorianists and I wrestled with the photocopier and talked about going here for a class outing. Shaun and I went into town, but failed to sort out either his Halloween costume or his love life (for my part, the Halloween costume at least is DONE. Basically a mass of pink tulle and body glitter, with some fake blood thrown in). I went home and got caught up on "Little Dorrit" via BBC iPlayer - which I'm enjoying, particularly the intense social awkwardness and the ineffectual, very slightly chubby, completely un-Darcyesque Matthew Macfadyen - and then went on a bit of an iPlayer tear and realised that my policy of supporting Richard Armitage's every endeavour means I'm going to have to start watching "Spooks". Now I'm sleepy and pyjamaed and interested only in green tea, "A Tale of Two Cities", and resting up for tomorrow. Happy day-before-Halloween.

the radio alarm clock is set for soon

Not Radio, courtesy of Popjustice. Which reminds me that it's been way too long (that is, several weeks) since I listened to Dragonette's "I Get Around".

y18c

"The makers of clothes, 18 per cent in Whitechapel, become 9 1/2 per cent in St George's, and fall away to 1 per cent in Stepney. The preparers of food and tobacco, 6 1/2 per cent in Whitechapel, become 4 1/2 per cent in St George's, and drop to about 2 per cent in Stepney. On the other hand, the casual labourers, who are 11 per cent in Stepney, stand at 9 per cent in St George's, and fall away to 4 per cent in Whitechapel, and so also with the other classes of labour, except those with irregular pay..."

I am reading Victorian social exploration writing. To be fair, most of it is a lot more colourful than this, all "the white wings of Charity" and "a vast mass of moral corruption, of heartbreaking misery and absolute godlessness". I'm just afraid I'm going to involuntarily memorise the data and have the most useless bank of knowledge ever, especially as I'm doubtful of some of their methodology.

In other news, my phone's predictive text dictionary includes "Y2K", which now seems like an adorably dated concept, though apparently still one I need to be able to text very quickly.

In the York university library (which is constructed like Maslow's hierarchy of needs: arts and music at the top, then humanities on the floor below, then sciences, then vending machines and toilets). On the next desk over someone is reading "Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone", which seems to suggest that everyone else here is a highly-paid actor pretending to be a student. Either that or they're taking a break, or studying it for serious purposes. Behind me a stony-looking guy in a vest and tie kicks off his black patent-leather shoes under the desk. Next to me Victoria (another engling) impatiently highlights the title of the text she's read four times now, "What is Enlightenment?". "If I find out, I'll tell you," she promises. In front of me are my books, and above me is a skylight full of cool, white sky.

More on York soon. It's actually awesome here.