It's gonna be May!
Early May always feels strangely bittersweet to me. The light changes almost overnight. The evenings begin stretching themselves lazily across the garden again, the air softens, and suddenly everything feels alive after months of damp British hostility. Even the birds seem unbearably pleased with themselves. One blackbird outside my window has recently begun performing at approximately 5am every morning with the confidence of a West End lead who believes the nation personally requested his return. And somehow, alongside all of that renewal, comes this horrible creeping awareness that the academic year is ending. I genuinely don’t know how I’m supposed to cope with that. This semester has done something to me intellectually that I was not prepared for at all. Somewhere between lectures, heritage work, books piled dangerously high beside my bed, museum visits, essays, and fieldwork discussions, I seem to have fallen completely and irrevocably in love with my subject. Not in the vague “th...