Pietas Pie

And so it's February - limbo-month, love-heart-month, cheap-googly-eyed-teddy-bear-month. Also Arvon-month, for the second and last time, although I'm trying not to get too excited about that just in case it turns out it's not real (I did exactly the same thing last year, refusing to believe it wasn't all just a crazy dream right up until the evening of the first day - and partly not until then.)

There is a man outside Charing Cross tube station who sells the Big Issue standing on one leg. London is wonderful. It's also wonderful because of this man's photos. Aren't they amazing? I'm very tired (so what else is new?) because I just got back from a day of classics lectures. Lots and lots and lots of Virgil, and plummy Oxford professors with weird pronunciation (EE-nee-as for Aeneas, EE-lee-ad for Iliad - is that normal?), and people I had actually heard of (Edith Hall! who is MAD) and a few slightly weird points (apparently Aeneas "stays pretty much the same throughout the Aeneid" - er, what?). My note-taking fluctuated a bit due to random bursts of sleepiness, so for one lecture I wrote masses of stuff, while I've also got another page that only has four points on it:

"Juno is Joan Collins on speed."
"Mad, hairy, passionate lionman"
"PIETAS. PIE."
"ancient sandwich"

and also many many stickmen.

Meanwhile I'm not exactly a model of pietas myself. I am neglecting my family, who are currently arguing over the fact that my brother hasn't done his homework, I am neglecting my duties because writing about Nazi Germany WOULD BREAK MY SOUL, I am neglecting my country because I haven't spoken a word of Russian since Thursday, and er...I can't really think how I'm neglecting "the gods", but today Mum said, "[uber-religious] Great Aunt Susan is coming to stay soon! We'll all have to give up meat for Lent!" and I swore loudly, so it's fair to say I'm going to hell.