The Pit

I’m currently celebrating my greatest victory from a computer in Hell.

Okay, so it’s technically not a victory yet. I have to wait until January to get my results back, so I could have totally bombed out on those two English Language essays. But considering the fact that I’ve never once failed an essay – including the last two EL ones I submitted, which were just horrible – I’d go so far as to say that I’m hopeful.

And with that it’s all over. No more English Language for me. After 3.5 years I have officially completed half of my join Honours Degree at the University of Edinburgh. Next semester it’s just me and History – I think it’s safe to say we’re both looking forward to it.

EL hasn’t been all bad. I’ve made plenty of great friends, learned a load of stuff and heck, I even enjoyed some of the dialectology. I mean, do you know the reason “mutton,” “pork,” “beef” and other words relating to meat sound nothing like “sheep,” “pig,” or “cow,” the creatures they originate from? No, don’t Google it. It’s because the former words are Old French in origin and the latter Old English. English and French blended together after the Norman conquest of 1066, giving us what is basically the halfbreed language we have today.

Then there’s the fun fact that actually, contrary to what we Albions like to think USA accents and spellings are more “correct” than the British versions. In the 16th century everyone use to sound the way some American dialects still do today – it was the Brits who changed over time, not their colonial offspring.

But I’m getting carried away! That’s all behind me now, for better or for worse. I suppose you’re wondering what gave me the liberty to use that opening hook one-liner and scandalously draw you into this dull meander through my current goings-on. Am I really in Hell? Well no, or if I am my sins must have been mild indeed. Let me explain.

Edinburgh Uni owns many grand and splendid premises across the city. Many of my fellow-students would not rank the derelict Hugh Robson Building as one of them. But to me it is a delight, a secret garden of meditation wherein I am uncovering the Muse with ever-greater regularity. For, you see, the basement of the much-maligned Hugh Rob Building is in fact a veritable cathedral of computer workstations.

The blessed sight itself.

Nicknamed the Bunker, the Pit, the Depths or simply ‘Hell,’ when students have been unable to win the coveted prize of a free desktop slot in our labyrinthine Library across the campus square they come here. The place is hallowed ground, its musty chairs and benches made sacred by the raw terror and stress of a thousand-thousand students during exam period. It’s one of my favourite places on campus, because unlike those hardworking busybodies, I only descend the bleak staircase into the Bunker when I’ve found half an hour to get some writing done.

And now that I’ve finally vanquished English Language I’m going to have a lot of spare time over the coming months to write-write-write. Not boring essay stuff, but actual I-just-made-it-up action-packed fictioney stuff. So expect more post! More SITREPS. Even book reviews! *gasp*

All I want for Christmas is a chance to chillax with my blogbuddies, and it looks like that’s exactly what I’m going to get. Season’s greetings to you all, from hell!



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4 responses to “The Pit

  1. I always thought mutton/pork/beef indicated the slaughtered, edible tasty bits, and sheep/pig/cow indicated the living, breathing animal. Like in Farsi, jujeh is a dead, plucked, cooked chicken that you’re about to eat, and a morgh is a live chicken that’s clucking and pecking stuff. TIL.

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