While the world has been changing rapidly this week, I've been holed up in my study on one of my periodic masochistic chapter-writing marathons (I did undertake one brief foray into London to vent displeasure at my department: mercifully, my journey was uninterrupted by
drunks). Anyway, I felt like an undergraduate during 'essay week' again. The only difference is that I actually met my deadline (a couple of hours ago) and am now feeling slightly at a loss, unable to relax, possibly owing to the fact I've been surviving on coffee for much of the past 72 hours.
Sad news about
Michael Crichton, I remember reading Jurassic Park, Sphere, and The Andromeda Strain when I was circa 12, and being amazed by the long words and (what I didn't know were fictional) theories. He inspired a love of science (and, especially, mad science) which was sadly crushed by high school. But, as the past week hasn't proved in any way, science's loss is history's, erm, gain.
Meanwhile, my cycling plans for the weekend may well be interrupted by gale force winds. Bah!