It hadn't been the happiest of days and I needed cheering up. I'd spent the morning in the seventh circle of hell with the stony metal bollock and the afternoon in the torturous process of writing the literature review for an article I'm working on.
Writing a literature review is torturous for me because I usually re-shape my thinking on major concepts at least five times while I'm doing it. Each epiphany necessitates changing the order of paragraphs and re-writing sections to shift the emphasis. Often it involves going back to the source materials I'm using, re-reading and realising I'd completely misrepresented the author's findings. I then re-write large sections of my draft and spend hours agonising over it only to discover by the end that I've said much the same thing I had said in the first place only in a less articulate way.
Just as I finished, an email pinged into my inbox. It was Che with a long but chirpy message updating me on her comings and goings and Internet dating criteria. The news included the following:
New band's first performance - went great. Me singing Bjork - went great. Met potential drummer - great. Very drunk but didn't chunder on tram home - great.
I love Che.
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