Tonight, I came home to a flat with all the windows open, so I heard Pete playing the guitar and S singing along before I even got to the flat. Once inside, I found PoshPhD sitting on the fouton mattress with her laptop, typing away – and smoking. She’s always bloody smoking. I was hoping to come home to a bit of quiet, because I wanted to start reading Fife’s novel. I guess that was asking too much.
What annoyed me even more than a house full of people was the fact that everyone ignored me. Coming home to a gang is quite enjoyable if you get the occasional, ‘How was your day?’ or ‘How was work?’ Nothing like that at Case del Intern. They just kept on as if I wasn’t even there, so I took the Kindle and a towel and sat in the garden. At least with the longer daylight hours, I can go outside for some quiet time.
I got through the first chapter of Fife’s book, and it’s pretty good. It picks up where the last book left off. The first ten pages are the hook, then the book spends the next several pages reminding the reader what happened in the last book. I’ll suggest that he disperses this throughout the novel more, but to be honest I’m not really comfortable giving Fife notes. He’s been a novelist for like a decade or something. I’m sure he doesn’t really need my opinion.
Pete eventually came down to the garden, sat behind me, and wrapped his legs and arms around me. He kissed me neck and asked what I was reading. I put down the Kindle; I don’t know why, I just didn’t want him reading Fife’s novel. Maybe I don’t want him to see it because it’s not published yet. It doesn’t seem fair to show someone an unpublished novel without asking the author.
Within a minute, S was down in the garden as well but with a box of beer. Pete got up as soon as he saw S, and rang CoolTrous to see if he wanted to join us. It was starting to get dark, and I was cold so I excused myself to get a jacket.
Back in the flat PoshPhD was typing away. I asked her how it was going and she just mumbled. Her thesis doesn’t seem to be going well, and I actually feel sorry for her, so I made her a cup of tea and went to excuse myself. But before I could leave she stopped typing and said, ‘I don’t know if I can keep doing this. Maybe I’m not cut out for a PhD. No matter what I submit to him it’s wrong. I should just give up.’
I really didn’t know what to say, so I just patted her shoulder and said, ‘It’ll be alright. I’m sure this is just a rough patch, and you’ll get through it.’
I don’t really feel like going back down to the garden, so I’ve drawn a bath and I’m in the loo now. The object of this bath was to do another Bathtub Blogroll, but I think I got a bit distracted. Sorry about that. I’ll put up the Bathtub Blogroll in a separate post.