Thomas Bray | This post was originally published August 1, 2012
Now, it may be a reflection of my status as a PhD spring chicken (N.B. not a real status, or, come to that, a real chicken), but I still get really rather excited about research trips. And I don’t mean, Ooh, I think I’ll have another slice of toast excited, I mean the Oh my God I can’t sleep! kind of excited. I just lay there for hours quietly whispering to myself, I’m going to London tomorrow, to look at some documents, and some of them are QUITE OLD! Eventually my housemate comes in and calmly, possibly even politely, asks me to cease and desist, but I can’t help it: I just cannot shake that Research-Trip-Eve feeling. It’s a bit like I’m six again, except this time the presents are not under a tree but in a locked room, and wrapped not in festive paper but in manila folders.
This feeling cannot last. I mean, the documents I am off to see aren’t magic beans, and they certainly are not going to write my thesis for me. They are just pieces of paper.