Okay, brain trust:
I've got a D.Phil to do and no office to call my own in which to do it. Can you help?
I'm not looking for a hotdesk or a library; there are plenty of those, and I can't leave all my stuff there or take a nap in the corner. My department's been of no help whatsoever, bless 'em.
I require a space within Oxford's ring road where I can bash out this thesis, reliably and steadily, for a minimum three-month period. I'm willing to entertain
- Cohabitations with others
- Garden sheds
- Plantsitting for fieldworking fellows
- Paying rent, in money or otherwise
- Hidden parts of your department you can give me a key to
I'm not willing to entertain
- Cohabitation with a smoker
- Rooms without windows
If you know of an opportunity, a space, or a friend who's going away for a while and willing to let me take their spot, I'd be grateful for the tip. If you're in the same situation and you want to try joining forces, let me know, too.
Big hugs to all of you.
(A poem for reading me all the way through:
And when at last grief has dried you out, nearly
weightless, like a little bone, one day,
no reason in particular, the world decides to tug:
twinge under the breastbone, the sudden thought
you might stand up, walk to the door and
keep on going… And in the seconds following,
like the silence following the boom under the river ice, it all
seems possible, the egg-smooth clarity of the new-awakened,
rising, to stand, and walk… But already
at the edges of the crack, sorrow
starts to ooze, the brown stain spreading
and you think: there is no end to it.
But in the breaking, something else is given—not
that glittering jumble, shrieking and churning in the blind
centre of the afternoon,
but something else—a scent,
like a door flung open, a sudden downpour
through which you can still see the sun, derelict
in the neighbour’s field, the wren’s bright eye in the thicket.
As though on that day in August, or even July,
when you were first thinking of autumn, you remembered also
the last day of spring, which had passed
without your noticing. Something that easy, let go
without a thought, untroubled by oblivion,
a bird, a smile.
- Jan Zwicky - )