Filed under: pink
The sun is setting over Oxford. Midnight blues fuse down into yellows, the hues silently sinking into the Bodleian and Sheldonian.
I can’t help but feel inspired. (And a little smug about having what can only be the best room view in the city.)
How many great people have wandered these streets before me? Laboured over books in the Bodleian, and graduated in the Sheldonian? How many great people are walking through them now? Right now?
If I could use just one word to define this majestic city, it would be this: potential. Oxford is home to awe-inspiring potential: the young adults who will become our team players, our leaders, our world class academics, our authors, our businessmen and women, our NGO directors, our politicians and our prime ministers.
I’m going to take my work to the Duke Humfrey’s Library in the Bodleian and join them.
Filed under: pink
Today was two minutes walking, two minutes running: twenty minutes in total. If I thought a minute of running was tiring, I was wrong. This morning’s exertion seemed properly knackering.
The changing clocks meant that we stepped outside into LIGHT! Funny though, this was not a welcome change. “Everyone can see what we look like!”, moaned Cem. Indeed, my red hair produces an unsightly warm blush across my whole face when I exercise. (At least, that’s my excuse for it.)
Fortunately, though flooded with light, Oxford still seemed to be largely deserted. I took the opportunity to sing “Play that Funky Music (White Boy)”, out loud, running back to Wadham down Broad Street.
Thankfully, my dear Cem does not judge.
Filed under: pink
After having my pitiful music collection rightfully mocked, I decided to improve it and indulge in some jazz. Listen to this, and turn up the bass …
Filed under: pink
Check out the back cover engraving!
It’s beautiful. It’s pink.
Enough said.
Filed under: pink
Just been for the second wog. (“Wog”, noun: interval training that includes jogging and walking.)
Feeling very energised today, if a little sore. Cem tells me she feels no pain. But I’m not all that unfit … she says perhaps I just run funny. Probably true!
And the worst ache is in – you guessed it – my glutes. Yes, I officially have a sore butt.
Anyone good at massages? 
