It’s coming to the end of my second year now-I’m still doing essays but we’re done with the reading and seminars and lectures and stuff. This year has definitely been my favourite. Everything I’ve studied has been so interesting- I want to do some separate blogs on some of the books I’ve read because they’ve been so fascinating, but for now, behold, the completed, back-breaking and (mostly) read pile of books for this year:

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(Kieran’s legs for scale)

Complete with this bruiser of a book that is responsible for the almost-certainly-permanent hunchback thing I’ve got going on:

It’s been a really good year, and I guess studying nothing but English Literature still hasn’t stopped me loving books since Kieran says I still, after finishing a more boring book, put said boring book down, announce that I can now relax from work reading, and immediately pick up one of my ‘for fun’ books.

Tally for the year:

Number of times tea has been slopped on books: 5

Number of teas slopped on everything else I own: 4

Number of burns acquired whilst trying to save tea and avoid slops: 3

Number of books that have caused a mini existential crisis after finishing: 3

Number of times I’ve cared more about fictional events than real: Incalculable

Number of books dropped on self: 2

Number of books dropped on Kieran: 2 and a half (he says)

Number of seminars where no one has read the book and we’ve managed to have an intellectual debate based off of the summary on wikipedia: surprisingly many

People are still telling me “so all you do is read? Your course must be so easy” which, although it gives me an eye twitch, is partly true, since I do spend most of the year sort of:

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This is along with all the other stuff an English student usually hears:

“Oh you’re doing English, so you must want to be a teacher?”

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“So how does that work, what else can you do with an English degree?”

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“So, you are probably going to end up being a teacher then?”

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“An English student? So you must really love Shakespeare”

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This year has, apart from giving me a new appreciation for ‘Winnie the Pooh’, mostly turned me into some crazed library crone. When people keep trying to drag me into the real world, and ask me what I want to do after uni’s finished, it does make me feel kinda:

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When people ask about what I’m reading:

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When I buy a book and it’s all shiny and smooth and new:

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When a known-book-mistreater wants to lay hands on one said precious books:youmaynot-1429202582.gif

Finally, when people ask why I’m down:

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