Saturday

The boy behind the counter put my mini-brownie on a fairly big plate. He disappeared behind the espresso machine for a bit, and when he returned the little brownie was festooned with whipped cream, chocolate sauce and cocoa sprinkles. "That is ridiculous," I said. "It looked lonely," he said.

Then Sarah and Emma and Jane and I settled down in the leather armchairs, and I swung my legs over the armrest of my chair and addressed myself seriously to the brownie. The others talked and I drank coffee and read Between Women by Sharon Marcus (I'd promised myself to do some reading while we were waiting to head to the cinema, so was forced to be antisocial). It was a sunny day, nearly springlike - considerably aided by me wearing the Liberty rose-print dress my mother made me - and we were in a medieval-looking little stone room in the city walls, overlooking Walmgate. From time to time I popped my head out of the book to see what the others were talking about, or to say "OHHH this is so GOOD", in reference to the Marcus. It made me begin to feel qualifiedly excited rather than terrified about the Ph.D proposal, even though I still feel as if the plan should strike me like a thunderbolt, not be worked out laboriously. (And not just because it would be a lot easier.)

Afterwards we went to see "The Reader". Wept madly into tissues, and got on the bus feeling wistful.

Tonight is a toss-up between books and beer pong, and I really think it'll have to be the former. Serious committed student etc.