Current
Watership Down, by Richard Adams (a chapter a week)
A Visitor’s Companion to Tudor England, by Suzannah Lipscomb
The Tomorrow Windows, by Jonathan Morris
History, by Elsa Morante
Last books finished
Lord Valentine’s Castle, by Robert Silverberg
1606: William Shakespeare and the Year of Lear, by James Shapiro
Divorcing Jack, by Colin Bateman
Building Confidence in Peace, by Nathalie Tocci
An Age of License: A Travelogue, by Lucy Knisley
Mission: Impractical, by David A. McIntee
Resolving the Cyprus Conflict: Negotiating History, by Michális Stavrou Michael
Next books
Selected Essays, by Virginia Woolf
The Lowland, by Jhumpa Lampiri
Mean Streets, by Terrance Dicks
Books acquired in last week
The Just City, by Jo Walton
The Twinkling of an Eye, by Brian Aldiss
Jocasta: Wife and Mother, by Brian Aldiss
The Complete Short Stories: the 1950s, by Brian Aldiss
Moon over Soho, by Ben Aaronovitch
Thanks for drawing my attention to this Nicholas – I’ve read the extracts you point to and will look through it all soon.
I don’t recall getting much from the two personal tutors I had. Except the odd nice note when exam results came, which I guess I value enough to keep to this day. I do remember one asking me, shortly after finals, if I had a lazy eye. Given the amount we’d all been studying, I think it was a miracle if even one eye was open. But the comment had the effect of sending me out into the world slightly paranoid!
I also remember the tutors been very unhelpful when it came to the matter of a friend’s gas bill. In retrospect it was obvious that the meters in a college house, Braeside, were wrongly labelled. Those living in one room knew they could have the fire on continuously and never got charged for the fuel. My friend was in the other room, never used his gas fire and got charged a fortune. He was just not believed when he went to appeal – it was either to the author or to another equally fearsome tutor.
I also have fond memories of the non-academic staff. The porters who huffed and puffed when we locked ourselves out of our rooms or arrived back late. The bedder who screamed when she looked down at my furry, clawed, slippers. The chaplain who visited when I got food-poisoning and ignored the hamster cage that I was failing, miserably, to conceal behind my back. The bar staff who had to put up with working 6-8pm and 10-12pm, as the bar closed mid-evening for study….. despite there being pubs minutes away…