Well, today has been more or less uneventful. I should have gone to the bloody dole-office to sign on (at the behest of my landlady) but I just can't face it. It's so dour. I know I shall have to some time soon, that much is imperative.
In any case, I have been thinking about history, particularly Roman history. It is often the opinion of the ill-informed milling masses (that is to say most all uneducated corners of society, and sociologists) that history is boring. I heard that much just the other day. In any case, anybody who holds such a view has never given the study of history any serious consideration, or is a psychologist. Alas, in this one work alone from translating it, I have unearthed heaps of juicy anecdotes from buggery in a army-tent to poisonings, ambushes, false parades, glorious victories and miserable losses. It is awfully exciting stuff, jolly exciting indeed. Sure, to the casual observer, a scholar simply reading a book might look anti-social (when he could be playing the guitar and getting wasted, for example) but inside the Latin scholars mind he may hark back to an ancient time when the gods were real, mythical legends held tales of fabulous beasts and the uneasy blurring between what is historical fact and what are spurious fairy-tales.
Even little Ronulus enjoys it (he gets 100% for every assignment, and he has not scored less than 86% on any of his examinations so far, he has never deferred a module nor returned an essay to be remarked). Anyway, I must re-immerse myself in this wondrous subject which delights the imagination of a poet like a spreading wild-fire.
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