Wait.. September?

And so the summer of 2010 has passed.
What have I learned from this experience?
- Never to disregard my mother when she tells me to get a job
- Not to rely on British Summer Time providing me with ample sunshine to sell ice creams and earn a decent wage
- Not to trust banks, estate agents or indeed anyone who might ever have to handle some of your money at some point
- The Cambridge Central Library has an Ancient Greek lexicon/dictionary
- After two years spent poring over books, I now need glasses
- My family really does have an extraordinary capacity to polish off cake

It is the middle of September. A new Jewish year has begun. I have returned to the twittersphere with a resounding .. er.. I want to say crash, but actually I suppose it's more of a tapping. Would that the 'enter' key on a keyboard could be engineered to produce a satisfyingly typewriter-esque sound, eh? But to return. Since twitter has seen my triumphant retour, I decided it would only be fair to return also to the world of blog-dom. So here I am.

I must confess that my love at the moment is divided, rather unequally it is true, between Stephen Fry and Wilfred Owen. This may sound a little odd. In fact, it does sound a little odd. The two are connected, believe me. But it is rather exciting that I will be going to see Stephen Fry at the Cambridge Corn Exchange on FRIDAY, that's THIS FRIDAY, that's VERY SOON INDEED. I am absolutely dying to make some witty/charming/otherwise delightful remark to him and be rewarded with a smile from the great man himself. Or even a few choice words. What an absolute legend. In keeping with my peculiar habits, I have reread 'The Ode Less Travelled', watched a variety of clips on youtube, including the whole of 'Who Do You Think You Are', and was physically incapable of preventing myself buying 'The Fry Chronicles', the book which has precipitated all my, and indeed, his own actions. I finished it this afternoon. I don't know if it is socially acceptable to go to a book preview having already read the book in question. Perhaps I shall ask him that. However, it has made me feel very much like I have an awful lot in common with Mr Fry. How much of that is because he's actually perfectly normal, and how much is because we are both two warped individuals who happen to twist in similar directions, I do not know. But I do have immense and inordinate love for the man, which was certainly not diminished on noticing Exeter College made it into his book (albeit only briefly, and only in reference to someone he knew that went there). Still, it is gratifying to me to know that he knows such a place exists. Ooooh yes indeedy.

Ahem. Shameless loving over. Were Wilfred Owen in a position as to receive such adulation from me, I am sure I would have much to say on him, too. As it is, I'll just say WOW and leave it there. Incidentally, more kudos to SF at this point, as he is directly responsible for making me actually want to read some of WO in a capacity beyond English lessons at school. Hurrah! for such enlightenment!

Anyway, it's really time for me to stop wittering. Hopefully next time I'll have something more useful/meaningful to say.