Sitting in Oxford right now in one of those wanky coffee shops with pretentious staff who look permanently like they might cry and confess to being a porn star in a previous life. Trying to write the kind of essay that makes you wonder how academics have being able to get funding. ‘Development Studies needs to be a multi-disciplinary subject and one of those disciplines needs to be anthropology. Discuss.’ I assume it only became a subject once someone started writing about the actual people who bothered to act. You know the people who got their hands dirty. Sitting around mulling over the theories and strategies is so academic.

Working in Oxford teaching for the summer before Uni should start and I lose the plot. I don’t know if I am doing the right thing in many ways. I’m far more interested in cross cultural communication or the inability of people who should know better (politicians, journalists and development people) to get the point across clearly and succinctly.

Oxford is lovely. Small and twisty. And quiet and towny in the summer, packed with language students, tourists, townies and homeless people. Its held my attention so far. Or possibly its the job which is efficiently run and measured. That said, I can’t wait to get out and see something new. I am hoping to get to Croatia in the summer and Sarajevo with a Colombian friend called Claudia or maybe later with a girl called T. That all needs to be resolved asap. Its playing with me now and I won’t put up with it much longer despite the joys.

So basically I am sat here on a Sunday waiting for the world to go away. Wish it away for the day at least. Sleep might help. The hangover or tiredness from the night before doesn’t aid any application.

World Cup Final tonight. May the best team win.

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