An episode in the saga of How Sangu Works

ON AN AVERAGE WRITING DAY

1.30 PM: Wake up

1.35 PM: Fall back asleep

1.40 PM: Wake up and play games on iPad or, if very lucky, read a bit of a book (or a whole book. Why not?)

2 PM: Turn on laptop, because laptop takes at least twenty minutes to start up properly. Then go get dressed and brushed and whatever else. On busy days dressing and brushing is optional. Pity postman.

2.30 PM: Check emails. Return blog comments that arrived overnight/day. Write up a blog post if I have time, otherwise glance over my favourite blogs and Twitter stuff.

2.45 PM: Find a song I really want to listen to right now. Usually a song that fits what I'm about to be working on.

2.47 PM: Start writing/editing/revising/tweaking/proofreading/tearing hair out.

3.50 PM: Notice that I received a text message half an hour ago. Odd. Why didn't I hear that? Hmm. Forget to reply to text message because brain is fully lost in book-world.

4.10 PM: Realize I'm hungry. Even odder. Have I not eaten today? Oh. Why didn't I? Hmm. Forget to eat because brain is fully lost in book-world.

5 PM: Brain aches. Eat a plum.

5.15 PM: Steve rings to say he's leaving work. I mumble, most irked about being disturbed while brain is fully lost in book-world. Steve tentatively inquires about text messages that were not replied to. I say 'hmm? What did you say?'

6 PM: Look around wondering where Steve went. He's been quiet an awfully long time. 

Oh. He hasn't come home yet.

6.20 PM: Steve comes home and kisses me on the top of my head, over the back of my chair. Refrains from pointing out the fact that I look like a deformed crab, hunched over laptop with alarmingly bad posture.

6.30 PM: Look around wanting to know why Steve never hugged or kissed me when he came home. He sighs. I give him a hug and we manage to have a proper conversation lasting a whole three minutes. I go back to writing/editing/revising/tweaking/proofreading/tearing hair out. Brain aches. Odd. Why am I hungry?

7 PM: Steve shouts at me for only eating a plum all day. I make up for it by taking a two-hour break and watching TV with him and eating Too Much Dinner. And dessert. We have real conversations and sprawl half on top of each other on the sofa to watch TV.

9 PM: Return to manuscript. Brain does not ache. In fact, brain wants to know why Characters One and Two aren't kissing yet.

9.30 PM: Realize I haven't put a new song on since 3 PM and must do so because Steve is heartily sick of hearing the same thing over and over. Change song and play it for the next three hours.

4 AM: Turn off laptop. Brain aches.

4.10 AM: Shower. Wash hair. Trip out of shower and into bedroom, where Steve is asleep on my side of the bed. Make him move. Get in bed.

4.30 AM: Can't sleep. Bloody nuisance. Read a book. Or poke Steve and demand entertainment.

6 AM: Finish book. Stop poking Steve. Sleep.

8 AM: Wake from comatose condition to Steve kissing me goodbye as he leaves for work. Swat him affectionately and descend back into the depths of corpse-like slumber.

12 PM: Postman knocks. Stumble downstairs and offer winning smile.

12.10 PM: Comatose.

1.30 PM: Wake up. And start all over again.

The Significant Other Blogfest

That means, dear readers, that today I will be relinquishing control of my blog and handing it over to my fiance Steve (who will be my husband in a week - eek). This is for the Significant Other Blogfest, hosted by DL Hammons and Talli Roland, where the people who selflessly support writers tell us what it's like to deal with us. The trials, the tribulations. The hell. The (occasional?) joys. Do pop over to the blogfest link and check out the other entries!

Now, over to Steve.

STEVE SAYS:

I’ve now lived with an author for seven months, and have been romantically entangled with one for nearly two years. (The author in question being Sangu, by the way, not some other random person.)

The first thing that comes to my head is how wonderful it is to watch someone go about their craft and see how submersed they are in it, how they can’t be distracted by anything (unless the thing is consumable…) It’s not unusual for me to spend a couple of hours playing computer games or watching TV with Sangu tip-tip-tapping away next to me, completely oblivious. And it makes me extremely happy that she can now make a career out of something she loves so much.

I suppose that living with an author means that you have to accept certain things.

1)      Sometimes you will be less real than characters.

2)      Sometimes you will be a postman/tea-boy/waiter.

3)      Not speaking to your partner for several hours, without feeling ignored.

4)      Your partner may not do any writing for a month, and then not look up from their laptop for a week.

5)      Small quirks and foibles are Very Important Things.

It was a very eye-opening experience for someone who reads a lot of books (though nowhere near as many as Sangu does) to realize just how much effort, thought and time goes into a single sentence – let alone a book. It is a mad experience to have a conversation with Sangu about characters talking to her and not wonder if she’s clinically insane, or to hear the level of detail authors have stored in their heads about every character of every project they’ve ever worked on.

I have only actually watched Sangu finish one book during the two years we’ve been together, and that was the one that is soon to be published. It is quite amazing to watch a spark of an idea grow into a story, evolve over umpteen drafts, pick up an agent and finally a publisher.

I like to act like a normal reader when reading through Sangu’s work (i.e. not knowing anything about a book before I read each chapter on the laptop). This is one of the hardest parts of being with a writer – it’s so tempting to ask for spoilers the whole time! Especially when you really want to know what’s going to happen next (damn you, chapter-ending cliffhangers!) When you buy a completed book, you can read on till it’s done if you want to, but with a work-in-progress I sometimes have to wait weeks before reading the next page. This doesn’t even begin to describe the many projects she’s started and abandoned right after hooking me.

So, you know. It can be agony. But it's also amazing to be with a writer. And I wouldn't swap it for anything.

Things to Be Excited About

With the weather getting everybody down (it's bleak and cold and snowing in England, it's even cold and grey here in India where I still am, and I expect most of the northern hemisphere is feeling the onset of winter), I thought this was as good a time as any to concentrate on all the things I am happy/excited about - and to ask you to share what you're excited about!

1. I will be back in the UK in eleven days! This might not seem like such an exciting thing, especially because I will be sad to leave Bangalore and my parents and family after having seen them for such a short time, but I am so excited to be back with Steve. 

2. I have a wedding to plan, so I'm expecting a lot of stress and chaos and amazingness in the next few weeks. We're hoping to get married at the end of January, if all goes according to plan, so  Oh. My. God. that's not far away now!

3. WOVEN is going to be published! Sara Sargent, an editor at Balzer + Bray (an imprint of Harper Collins Children's in the US), made an offer about three weeks ago and my agent and I had another offer but we ultimately went with Sara, who is awesome, by the way. I haven't signed the contract yet, which might be why it still feels surreal and impossible - apart from, of course, the fact that it is surreal. 

I've been telling myself to hold off posting about this until it's all signed and sealed, but I couldn't resist! And hey, I've held off for three weeks, that's pretty darn good willpower! I know I need to write up a proper post about it and explain things better, but for now, let that be a bit of exciting news. And let me also say: thank you, Melissa, for making this happen!

4. I bought a pair of gorgeous gold heels the other day. Now I know this is a very frivolous thing to be excited about - and that it's shameful I don't even have a photo to show off yet - but I love those shoes. I bought them for the wedding, but I'm totally going to get more wear out of them afterwards.

So there. Four things I am thrilled about this week. But I'd love to know about the rest of you (though I'm not sure I have to ask Talli what she's excited about)!

What's brightening your winter?

A post from Steve: Just a couple of links

Hi, everyone!

I'm just popping in to do what Sangu refuses to do, which is shamelessly plug some other bits of her writing that have made their way onto the internet! Long time followers may remember that Sangu occasionally lends her skills to Spitefulcritic.com, and (in my humble opinion) makes excellent contributions to the site. 

Here are her two latest articles that popped up on there this week:

20 Movie Quotes that really caught on

The (only) 5 types of Michael Bay character

(Ignore the occasional lack of punctuation; apparently it sometimes gets lost in the editing process) 

Enjoy!

Flip a Coin

Chance. Luck. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. Whether or not you believe in fate, I don't think most of us can deny that chance plays an enormous role in our lives. Sometimes, the element of chance is downright ridiculous.

For instance, Steve and me. We're together because that's who we are, it's how we wanted it, we made moves, etc etc. But we wouldn't even have met if it hadn't been for a ridiculously long and convoluted string of coincidences and twists of fate. For instance, what if either of us had decided not to go to Lancaster University? What if we had ended up in different colleges/flats? I only met Steve, properly, because he and I ended up, coincidentally, living together in my second year of university. And this only happened because he happened to be friends with Lindsey, who was my friend too.

What if, gasp, Lindsey had gone somewhere else? Picked a different college to live in? Not happened to meet me at someone else's party? Not happened to end up living, coincidentally, in a flat where several of Steve's friends lived (which is how she met him in our first year, leading to us living together in our second)?

It's a mess, isn't it? And it's also slightly unnerving to think of how easily we could have missed one another.

I think the same holds true for writing. Sure, it's about hard work and talent. But the element of luck is so strong in writing. What if you didn't happen to see that bird that sparked off the idea behind your bestseller? What if you didn't bump into that woman with the hooked nose who inspired your award-winning villain? I always feel that almost all ideas and stories are inspired by luck, by circumstances. Even ones that are retold.

And on the publishing front, what if you catch an agent on a really bad day, and a query that he/she would otherwise have loved, simply goes rejected?

It makes me reel ever so slightly, thinking about luck.

So how has the random, pure, ridiculous element of chance irrevocably changed your life or writing?

Tales of the Week

I'm going to open this post with a question: has anyone ever tried to write a book, find a house and plan a wedding in the same week? 

Yes, it's been a crazy week.

So it all began on Saturday, when Steve proposed. Many of you will know who Steve is, or will have at least seen him in the comments or in a few guest posts, but for those of you who don't, it's probably fairly clear by now that he was my boyfriend/now my fiance. There's a word I never thought I'd use. And lest my somewhat frazzled post suggest otherwise, I am actually terribly excited and happy about it! Yay! I'm engaged!

Of course, this has meant that I've spent the week neck-deep in messages, phone calls and the like from my friends and members of my (very large) family. I've also been neck-deep in planning a wedding (so exciting and so much fun, but, can I just say, so stressful). At least, I've been trying to, what with conflicting schedules, timing problems, legal things, etc etc. 

Yeah. Apparently it's not all gorgeous fashion, presents and pretty tablecloths.



Steve and I have also been looking for house for July, because I pretty much finish at Lancaster in June. And house-hunting, while also fun and exciting (because it's my first one ever), carries its own share of mayhem. Wowee, you wouldn't believe it unless you've done it yourself. But we've found a couple places we really like, and we're going to see them two weekends from now, so that's something near to look forward to!


As mentioned above, I've been trying to write this week too, which has proven more difficult than usual. I've outlined most of TEA WITH DEATH, DESIRE AND RAGE and have done some more work on planning the sequels to ECHOES.


Yesterday, the lovely Tessa Conte gave me this award, so, thank you, Tessa!

Yay!

So, in passing it on, I'm just going to pick five of my many favourite pretty blogs, regardless of how prolific their writers are (no offense to the others, I've had a really hard time just picking five for now!)

1. Jane at Novel Pretender, for her gorgeous background and amazing word cloud

2. Marian at Just a Trifle, because it looks so pretty and it's about Sherlock Holmes

3. Terresa at The Chocolate Chip Waffle, for that beautiful photo at the top

4. Nina at WICKFIELD, 'cause I'm a sucker for Disney

5. The Slushpile Slut, because I'd love a few of those stilettos.

I've decided that next week is going to be a themed week! Themes! Hooray! 


As I feel rather mushy these days (reasons why above), I thought I'd focus on love stories. I'm going to pick five literary or fictional couples, iconic or not so iconic, and write about them. One for each day of the week, Monday to Friday. I'll talk about why I love them as a couple and as individual characters, why the love story works on paper, how it's conveyed, and I'd love any contributions about why you might agree or disagree with me.

Now to pick those couples...


Finally, please don't forget to sign up for the Character Interview Blogfest if you're interested! The signup sheet is in the sidebar, so swing your eyes right!


Happy weekend, everyone!

Guest post from Steve: Grind my Gears

Hey all, its been a while…

Just read this article on Confused.com. Which got me thinking about the things I hate that happen on the road. Obviously we all hate roadworks, speed cameras, etc. So my rant will be based on people, and what they do when let loose behind (or near) a steering wheel.

Actually, this is a complete lie. I rarely think about these things. I just shout them whilst in my car with my very loud music on. But this isn’t entirely relevant to this discussion, except for removing any doubt that I’m at least a little bit insane.

So, in no particular order, here’s my list of driving related things that annoy me:

*People who have their lights on at the wrong time

Why do people have their headlights on in the middle of a bright day? Or when it gets slightly dark? If you need help seeing ahead of you when it’s light, you shouldn’t be on the road. And if you’ve got your lights on so other people can see you, then you must think everyone else is too blind to be on the road, in which case, you would be infinitely safer off the road! See the theme here?

*People who undertake to avoid a queue

For those of you not based in the UK, undertaking is illegal here. Sometimes, when you’re faced with the infamous “middle lane hog”, it’s a fair tactic. Or if someone is driving at 60 in the fast lane for no apparent reason, it’s a necessity.

When it annoys the hell out of me is when there is obviously a queue being formed in the fast lane to get past a slow moving vehicle, and someone joins the back of queue for about three nanoseconds before racing down the inside to cut someone up further ahead in the queue.

I fear I will have to resort to metaphor here: Imagine queuing in a supermarket, with three people in front of you. You decide it’s a bit boring, so climb on the counter, push someone backwards so there’s a space to fit back in, and hop to the front of the queue. Would you do this? No. So don’t do it on the road.

*Driving instructors who take their charges through the busiest parts of town in rush hour

Why?! The day is very long. Rush hour lasts for, well, an hour. I guess. Why would you do this to a learner? As if they don’t have enough pressure!

And, more selfishly, as if there isn’t quite enough traffic on the road already, you feel you need to add to it?

*People who tailgate 

You may feel this is very hypocritical of me. You are correct. Sorry. But when I’m driving at a perfectly acceptable speed, is it necessary for people to drive six inches behind, with lights flashing and horn going? No. Is it going to make me slow down to inconvenience them as much as possible? Yes. Be warned.

*People who brake ridiculously suddenly

You may have noticed a theme running through here. I get concerned about little things that aren’t dangerous, just annoying and generally impolite. But this one is different.

You occasionally have the misfortune of driving directly behind some nutcase who feels that their brake pedal has two settings: Full and Off. No middle-ground for them! Just grinding to a halt and hoping that everyone else reacts like a tennis player facing Andy Roddick’s serve. These people are under some kind of illusion that we can magically see through their eyes, into their brain, and know exactly when they are going to brake, and thus enable us to synchronize perfectly. Unfortunately, this is not the case. Its dangerous, not to mention really expensive on tyres, petrol and brake pads.

Pure conjecture, but I bet a large majority of shunts on motorways are caused by these people.

And that’s it. One last note, if these things don’t annoy you, you’re probably doing them yourself. Thanks.

At-Home Haircuts, what a treat

So, about an hour of my weekend was spent cutting Steve's hair. It had gotten a bit long (read: it looked like a mushroom) and he begged, pleaded, demanded I do something about it. So I did.

I chopped, hacked, and generally did what I felt like. I had enough spare hair in my hands for an excellent toupe. I left him with a tiny bald spot at the back (easily hidden because his hair tends to be rakishly messy all the time), and no hair in front of his ears. You know, the really short sideburn bit boys have next to their ears? Yep. I kind of removed that. I didn't mean to. Hopefully, it will grow back speedily.

I write books better than I cut hair. I think. 

I just want people to know that.

Tomorrow, I will be cutting nobody's hair. But I will, hopefully, be handing in my dissertation and washing my hands of it forever. And I will, hopefully, be immersing myself in writing more of CLOCKWORK. It's been so lonely and neglected this week.

Guest Post from Steve: Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card

Hi, its Steve again. Hope you're all keeping well.

Ender's Game is my favouritest book ever. SO good I'm risking Sangu's wrath by making up words in her blog. Its the first and best of a series of books by Orson Scott Card that feature mostly the same character and universe.

Usually, I enjoy books that make me feel clever when I can predict whats going to happen. Or at least tell myself that I knew. But Ender's Game has a brilliant twist at the end which I have no intention of telling anyone here. It completely and utterly fooled me, but in a way that made the book completely endearing (instead of "aren't you clever for outsmarting me *places book in bin*").

It also creates a very clever and believable universe. It is based around a war with aliens, and Earth's search for brilliant children to be commanders of the future. The most brilliant of these (until you read Ender's Shadow) is the eponymous Ender Wiggin, who is fast-tracked to the top of the school in record time. The 'school' is "Battle School", where children are taught military history and tactics, along with the physics of space battles.

It leads to a hyper-competitive, violent environment, that Ender and a very small number of allies rise above. But the brilliant part of the book is the very end, and I can't recommend enough that you pick this book up and read it.

:-)

What Would Hadrian Say?

An absence of a couple days, I see. Sorry about that. Have been rather preoccupied and under the weather, and Steve paid a surprise visit last night!

We went to Hadrian's Wall today. We've been wanting to do this for a while, and as neither of us have been to Scotland yet, we thought it might be fun to set foot on Scottish soil and say we've been at last. Hadrian's Wall is en-route. It took us about an hour and a half from Lancaster, and it was remarkably hard to find. Not surprising, in the end, because it turned out to be little more than a parking lot and a low stone wall. 

I love low stone walls. Yet somehow I expected a little more of this great relic of Roman/British history. A grand fort perhaps, or the ruins thereof? A graveyard to mark the lives lost in defending the wall from who knows how many invaders? Maybe we only went to the small bits of the wall, maybe there's a grand structure somewhere else. If not, Hadrian must be turning in his grave...

That said, the rare sunlight over England and the countryside looks gorgeous, doesn't it?

Very little to add re. books and writing. I've done very little and am rather ashamed of my lack of progress this week. I've achieved close to nothing. I'm hoping to finish my dissertation chapter tonight, and write another one tomorrow. Or at least finish both by the end of tomorrow. That will make me feel a little better about this week and work.

A further note about Hadrian's Wall: this photo. Erm, why? Why tease me with mention of a fort? Magic invisible fort?






 If anyone is British, unsure about the elections, and reads Glamour, there's a great article about the elections in this month's issue. Clear, concise, and clever. It made things make sense for me, and I can't even vote.

Manchester United lost to Chelsea today. Steve wasn't pleased. My brother, however, will no doubt be over the moon.



Update on Monday, April 5th: My brother was over the moon. He snickered as he offered Steve his sympathies.

I'm a sucker for Greek gods

I've managed, by and large, to recover from my sleepless night. I caught a few hours in the late morning and am now looking forward to an early night. 

Have just been into town with Lindsey, where we dropped into a bar for a drink or two. Minor hitch in this plan: apparently, I managed to walk all over Asda, town and the bar with a hairband stuck to my back (well, below my back actually) and only realized it was there when a group of older men with tankards of beer decided to ask me if it was deliberate. My face went so hot you could have scrambled eggs on me.

Steve's started a blog, and has a few posts up already. It's focused on sport and his opinion of current sport news and updates, so if you like that kind of thing, do see him. He manages to make it sound interesting to me, which is a feat, because I'm very un-sport-y. So I reckon someone who likes that stuff would love it.


I've decided to attempt an experiment in writing Half. There are certain things I absolutely love, and I've decided to include them all in the novel, and see if they work together. If I could read my ideal book, it would have all of these things, so I thought: why not write something with all these things I love? Can I make it work, even if they seem incompatible?

So into my slightly dystopian premise, I'm planning to infuse:

• Sherlock Holmes
• Greek mythology
• Clothes/shoes
• Slightly Victorian language
• A sexy love interest and an electrifying romance
• A man who growls. I love men who growl. See my previous mention of my love for Kevin McKidd. He growls, in a nice way.

I've loved Sherlock Holmes and Greek mythology ever since I discovered them, separately, as a child. I've never been able to really use that love in my writing yet. Obviously, the book will not at any point be about any of that list. It will just include them. Can it work? I suppose we'll have to wait and see...

Guest Post from Steve: Let me lower the standard of writing

Hello, everyone! My name is Stephen, and I am the Steve that Sangu refers to now and again. Sangu, in a weaker moment, gave me access to guest posting on the site. Big mistake. I'll occasionally contribute inane, badly spelled and grammatically incorrect posts that make little or no sense. Hopefully you'll like them! My first thought is on one of my favourite phenomena: 

One-Eyed Drunken Text.

This may be a mystery to some, but to everyone else it's probably a dark memory buried as far away as possible. To paint a picture, one has drank a few drinks of an alcoholic variety. Then you leave your fortress of solitude, and venture out into the big bad world. Have a few more drinks. Enter some sort of 'discotheque' establishment. Few more drinks, whip out your phone to send a text message to a friend and

BAM!!

You can't see a thing. This is bad. You bring the phone closer to you, until you hit yourself in the eye. Slight panic - where has my sight gone? And then salvation, your addled brain tells you to shut one eye and focus on your phone again... 

HALLELUJAH!

My sight has returned! Now, my best scientific explanation for this is that your brain has too much alcohol in it to be able to cope with assimilating two slightly different images from each eye, and create one clear image as it does all day, every day. So you get a blurred concoction, until you shut an eye and allow your brain an easy ride. 

But this isn't really an attempt to explain it, simply to nod my head, and say "Thank You" to the human brain for this wonderful, if odd, ability we have. 

Be back soon, 

Steve.

Saturday with Steve

Steve drove up yesterday, just for the weekend before heading back to work, and we've had a busy day today. After a hugely optimistic trip to KFC to try and grab the new Krush'ems (known as Krushers in India, where we first discovered them over the summer), we discovered they weren't on sale yet and proceeded despondently to the cinema to see The Blind Side. We've both seen it before, but loved it, so we were quite looking forward to it. And yes, it's amazing. Whatever Steve says, Sandra Bullock completely deserved her Oscar win, and the supporting cast were fabulous too. It was one of those movies you get a little bit teary in, and laugh a lot in, and think aww and wow a lot. Now, I don't normally like American football films, with the exception of Remember the Titans. But this one won me over. The trailer. Oh, boy. Had me bawling first time I saw it. 

It was, actually, the trailer that got me to watch this. Steve, a football player, a Manchester United geek and an avid NFL/Indianapolis Colts fan for reasons I can't fathom, wanted to watch it a few weeks ago, and I refused. The words 'it's about an American football player...' did me in. But that trailer swayed me.

What surprises me, though, is that Sandra Bullock actually seized the win for this. In the last few years, the trend has inclined towards winners representing a deep, ethical, morally complex, historically hard-hitting, etc, etc kind of film. Think Kate Winslet winning for The Reader, which is outstanding, by the way. Or Charlize Theron some time ago, winning for Monster. As great as The Blind Side is, I don't think anyone could call it morally ambiguous, deeply philosophical, or historically painful. It was a great feel-good story, and how rare are Oscar winners in that category? Think about the Best Picture winner that trumped The Blind Side: The Hurt Locker, the very definition of the hard-hitting qualities listed above. I don't know, but in my opinion, it seems that you've got to be political, foreign, doubtful, morally shaky, extravagantly eccentric or sufficiently surprising to be an Oscar winner or nominee these days. It probably also helps if your plot's got something to do with a war or the Nazis.


Moving on...


After going to see the movie, Steve drove us to Asda, where we bought everything we needed to make a proper, tantalizingly wonderful roast dinner involving chicken, tarragon and lemon. If anyone's interested, we used the magnificent Delia Smith's recipe. Boy, was that an undertaking. It must have taken us about two and a half hours to put together the entire meal: roast chicken with its garlic/tarragon/lemon/chicken-juice/butter sauce, baby potatoes, and broccoli. And it was delicious. The very first roast dinner I've ever really made, and it was perfect. Plenty of leftovers too.


A Saturday to be proud of.

Snapshot of a university day

As I write this, I'm sitting in the Learning Zone, a new building designed so that students at Lancaster University can study, work, talk, eat and hang about, all twenty four hours a day. One end of it is covered with long, large windows, looking out into Alex Square, the centre and hub of the university. In the interest of putting off doing my work (I've written about 700 words of yet another dissertation chapter and think I can take a break), I thought I'd describe what I see and offer a snapshot of university life.

Across from me sits Lindsey, friend, flatmate, fellow student, slightly insane and not a little bit dopey either. She's more engrossed in her phone than in her work and occasionally looks up to offer me yet another update re. her job, her manager and the rota. I listen with one ear. Around us are various other erstwhile students, some diligently working, others sprawled out on the sofas with their iPods plugged firmly into their ears. Today, the windows are closed, so it's quite warm in here. So warm, in fact, that I've taken my hoody off. Gasp. In England, too.

Outside, in the Square, which is actually more of a very long rectangle surrounded by shops, banks, passageways and trees, it's still light, though the sun has vanished. Very English. Two girls sit on the steps, smoking. Two boys appear to be enjoying a couple of milkshakes. I'm tempted to ask them where they got theirs, because I tried getting a Diggles milkshake not fifteen minutes ago and was told they were closed. A girl dressed, apparently, for the Antarctic is passing by, her hood so dense it could probably shelter Lindsey, me and the rest of the Learning Zone, were we to feel the chill. Someone's getting money out at the cash machine. A group of first-years are laughing over sandwiches. I can tell they're first-years because only first-years wear skimpy clothes in the cold and laugh that loudly. Trust me. The rest of us have too much work to indulge ourselves. (Okay, I confess to mild sarcasm.)

As early as it is, I can give you a snapshot of the Square tonight, or on an average university night. Girls in short, pretty dresses and coats totter on high heels, already drunk, to get the bus or a taxi. Boys make sure they look steady and reliable, to prove they are men and can hold their drink. Occasionally, someone will try to climb a tree and break an arm. The buses will take them into town, where they'll dance for hours at Cuba or the Sugarhouse or one of the other clubs, and they'll drink till they're silly. I do this frequently, so I know.

Yes, that's university life. Work, drink, dance, play. Work some more. Work whilst nursing a hangover, whilst suffering stomach cramps, whilst being sick, whilst contemplating tomorrow's night out. Then go out. Then work some more. That's the final-year student's life, anyway.

Steve is driving up to see me tomorrow. Am very, very excited about that.