Idun in the Sky with Extremely Many Diamonds

I am done. I am done. I can't believe it.



(Photo: Hans-Marius Foeleide, Sandane. Nicked from NRK Sogn og Fjordane)


Toby, who patiently helped me print my four coupies of about 57 pages each before doing his, is also done, or better still: he is running for his life just now to UCL, which closes at 5pm, with his bound dissertation in hand, just as I ran to SOAS to try and make it before our closing time, 4pm. The last text message read:
"At Russel Square now, 20 minutes to go!".

The drama, which was not that real since the deadline is tomorrow, was still memorable: We printed, found mistakes, printed again, found mistakes, and then printed without looking, and eventually ran to the binding shop in Angel where the colour pages were printed and the darn thing was finally bound.



This was at 3.30, and I tried to calculate if it would be possible to get it in today. Then I ran to the bus, ran from the bus, bolted up the stairs at SOAS past sweaty professors who have forgotten what writing a dissertation is all about - and made it by about 30 seconds. I have to add at this point that I had no less than 20 books from the SOAS Library in my backpack, so this was not only running, but running with a certain edge to it. I could feel people staring at my sweaty chest, messy hair and pathetically flushed face, thinking "My God". This did, however, not affect me to any mentionable extent, as I had arrived on the second floor and caught a distant glimpse of the door to the promised land.

Just as I stepped in, the lady went "Oh, it's four" and shut the door (behind me, luckily). And so it was done. I know it's only Thursday, but more importantly, it is NOT Friday, and in this fact lies a personal victory of unimagiable significance. Now I will go and swim in a barrel of beer.