Reading Week Woe

If ever there were proof that we always want what we can’t have, it has to be half-term holidays (or ‘reading weeks’ as they call it at uni).

Every time I have to wake up for a day of learning, I wish (and beg, and plead to the universe) that I could have just one more hour in bed. I resent the time taken away from other activities, even as I enjoy and appreciate the new things I’m discovering. In lessons, frequent glances at my watch beg for time to move faster so I can have a break, or a smoke, or go home. Evenings are spent in a desperate scramble to read set chapters or (worse) journal articles which leave my brain feeling scrambled and my eyes gritty.

Then, along comes half-term.

Eleven… whole… luxurious… days off.

Sure, more time in bed is always appreciated. Binge watching and book devouring will most definitely be on the menu. I’ll visit the people I can’t see every day, and finally get around to some of the chores I ignore during term time.


Think of everything from uni that I’m missing: getting stuck into new material; the verbal cut and thrust of lively group interaction; smoke breaks with my buddy; lunch breaks with my friends; and the chance to make certain that I won’t fail my assignments. Not to mention the feeling of actually achieving something for myself that I just don’t get from anything else in my life.

Being a parent can be enjoyable, challenging, satisfying and productive. The rewards are plentiful: hugs, pride, laughter, and new ways of looking at the world (to name a few). Similarly, taking care of my home can fill me with pride and a sense of achievement. But that achievement seems impersonal and fleeting. What I do today, will still need doing tomorrow.. and the day after.. and the day after. Not only that, it’s as much for others as it is for me.

University is mine. My education. My grades. My future.

Surely there must be a better way of organising the universe so that I can have my cake and eat it?

Open to suggestions 😀

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