Only 3 classes of the course to go (one already pretty much prepped). Then I’ll have essay project thingies to mark. Then summer in the National Library of Wales! Book MS finished and will go in the post any day now. It’s been a hectic month or so, but hopefully posting will be a bit more regular again now. If I can think of something to write.
Elections, that’s it, I was going to do some more about elections.
Anyway, just down the corridor from me, a PhD student is in the final stages of writing up (thesis on early 14th-century Ruthin [borough in north-east Wales] court rolls. Good stuff, I think, though much more quantitative than anything I could do). Possibly also in the final stages of sanity. Blood, sweat and tears ain’t in it. I’m reading stuff and saying, ‘This sounds fine to me…’ But he seems to be afflicted with chronic tinker-itis now. Is there any way of convincing a paranoid student that what he’s written is emphatically not absolute, incomprehensible crap?
But I can’t talk really. OK, I may be fine (not to say vain) when it comes to writing, but I’m really bad about my teaching. I worry about everything endlessly. (Are they talking enough? Did I explain that subject clearly? Should we have done such-and-such? Why can’t I get them talking more? Why do I waffle so much? Why do I take so long over doing everything? Are those marks really fair? Why don’t they talk more? How will I cope with a real teaching job? Am I just crap?)
I must not worry so much. I must not worry so much.
PS: it’s my birthday next week! (If you’re wondering when, I share it with a certain royal personage. I think that’s nearly all we do have in common. I am also quite a few years younger, I should add.)