This filthy, stinking, pooping weather (yes, I said 'pooping' - I don't feel that I should unleash my more, er, fruity language in a blog post).
I just feel ENERVATED.
Isn't that a great word? Sounds like it should mean 'energised', but it's quite the opposite. I first learnt it when watching High Society with Grace Kelly and Bing Crosby. Those were the days.
Even my hair aches from the effort of concentrating.
Anyway, in the hustle and bustle and stress of preparing research proposals and funding bids, assessing societal impact, and making a case for the relevance of my research project, I haven't spoken to DPB in two days (including today).
In long-distance relationship speak, this is like not seeing someone you live with for, oooooooh, about three weeks.
This morning it got to the point that he actually sent me a meeting request in iCal.
Prize for worst girlfriend ever?
But it wasn't just any meeting request.
Oh no, that is not DPB's style.
The request was to inform me that I had been invited to attend a long weekend in the Lake District for my birthday.
I've been banging on about going to the Lake District forever because it's such a special place for me, personally and, I suppose, professionally.
After all, it was the birthplace and (for a lot of the time) home of William Wordsworth.
For some reason, DPB and I have never managed to get to the Lakes together - it just never really seemed to happen.
We're staying at the Moss Grove Organic Hotel (one of my favourites):
Here are some interior shots:
There's something so captivating and breathtakingly beautiful about the Lake District and I have been known to make a totally unnecessary and time-wastingly ridiculous 40-mile detour to Grasmere on the way home to see my parents (bearing in mind that my parents live in Hampshire, 229 miles away from Lake Windermere...).
Food for the soul.
I wonder if DPB will let me drag him around a tour of the Jerwood Centre, where I've
I'll be the one wittering on about the child as the father of man and daffodils and such-like.
I don't really need to tell you how excited I am at the prospect of getting away for a few days.
Only 18 sleeps to go!
Oh, hang on, that also means that there's only 18 sleeps until I'm another year older.