I am such a silly sausage, and rather than the fiter/rebuff block thang on the whole E-male, 't was merely confirmation that I can in-fact (thank heavens) be "in it to win it" with the competition in Classical Studies. Being a monozygotic sibling of only a dozen minutes apart, I am fiercly competitive (although not so much so that I lose any sense of sportsmanship, fair-play, on the contrary, like my late Grandfather William Phillips, I take a cricketers approach to life, the sport of gentlemen).
Not only that, but (get this) the A340 Study Materials (yes, the actual real study materials, the ones written by the Kazmakrators, the formators of heaven, the gods whom shape and carve the very fabric of reality from the cosmic pattern - id est: Phil Perkins and colleagues) are due to arrive, by winged messenger, Hermes himself (whom is now either working for Yodel or Royal Mail PLC, temping, as a courier) is due to arrive any time, falling from the starry empyreal heaven to the feet of the firmament. (Bridders).
On the other hand, in light of the Mercurial messenger due to float down from the stars any second, means I will likely instead forget any competition (which, according to Ueshiba only serves to weaken an defeat one's true shield - the spirit) and instead re-read the three set books again and again, making copious notes, until Mr. Trismegistus arrives in the next couple of days.
Anyway, I've been working on my play, because some dissidents have blown up the temple in Palmyra. So, I am inspired, rather lamentably to finish Zenobia: Queen of the East. I am digging Zosimus, Southern and Imperial Crisis (Cambridge Histories XII), looking at evidence from coins, epigraphy and archaeological evidence, weighed most carefully against the literary sources (including the Historia Augusta and the writings of Appian). It's pretty cool actually.
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