Of booze and books

I don’t know how it happened, because I haven’t breathed a word to anyone, but Someone has found this blog and kindly left a welcoming comment. Now, of course, I must actually put some effort in, for fear said Someone returns and discovers that I’ve done sod all.

This weekend’s breakthrough discovery has been that alcohol and study do not mix. Groundbreaking, I know. Sadly, I’m not talking about knocking back a couple of bottles of Montepulciano by myself and then being justifiably hungover the following day. Those days are long gone. Mostly. No, now one or two glasses over the course of the evening is enough to ruin my ability to think. Today’s attempt at study went something like this: switch on computer; put kettle on; put in some laundry; change bedlinen; add water to teabags in pot; return to computer; open document; return to kitchen to pour tea and find biscuits; take tea up to husband, who is busily constructing shelves in the attic; return to computer; read email; phone mother; take out laundry; look at reading list; put aside books for photocopying; update bibliography; make more tea… The recurring tea motif is a clear sign of me not settling down to anything much at all.

By the mere fact of sitting at the desk with an open monograph beside me, I can sometimes convince myself that even though I’ve spent the past half hour looking for shoes on Zappos, I’ve still done some work. The miserable truth of today is that I’ve achieved very little indeed. I haven’t even bought any shoes.

So, this is my blog?

Well, we’ll see how it goes. I’m not sure why I’m doing this, except that I’ve had many discussions with friends who blog and I got all intrigued. And, I think this might be a good way to keep in touch with friends in the UK. And, I’m supposed to be writing a dissertation so there’s probably some not-all-that-unconscious work-avoidance thing going on. My self-created rules say I’m not allowed to read fiction, else enormous tracts of time will vanish and in their wake will come equally enormous great swathes of guilt and anxiety.

I must say that this page was seductively easy to set up. No wonder half the known world blogs (I believe that’s the official figure). The question is, what next? Somewhat illogically, I find I don’t want to tell anyone about the blog, so I’m publishing it in the hopes that no one will read it. I’ve already furtively changed tabs on the browser when my husband wanders in to look over my shoulder.

I’m calling this an experiment, a foray into Web 2.0. But, just in case, I’m keeping my fountain pen and my beautiful stationery.