I wasn't grumpy last night. I went to the pub with colleagues and (after the compulsory moan about the Institution), we talked books, particularly children's books, as they'd been teaching Pullman that evening. Mark and I have cooked up a plan for some papers on Edwardian children's literature (basically: it's all very weird) and I tried out my Anne of Green Gables paper idea on him - he approves. Obviously I'm not going to rehearse my arguments here, but I'm tempted to call it 'Beating the Red-Headed Stepchild: Canada, race and colonialism in Anne of Green Gables'. Obviously (to me, anyway), the e marks Anne's Kristevan excess. No, really, that's what I do for my job. For now, anyway.
Most of this came to me while I was drunkenly ironing at midnight, and it's all scrawled on the back of a bookshop receipt. Rock and roll!
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