Getting over what it was like being at that... place (Hades), this week making the sound of a samian, an ape, a monkey or baboon is in vogue. Last week was the moor-hen, before that the duck, the bleating sheep and sounds of horses. Here the chimps run the tea party. This is Dark Age Britain, not Renaissance Italy. Anyway, as I was saying.
Getting over all that... stuff, the commission is really rather taxing. I'm like some wind up toy, or some feather at the behest of the winds, grasping at straws, hanging on by a thread. I have absolutely no idea, what I'm doing, at all. Yet, nevertheless, the training kicks in, university. It's basic stuff. Nothing we haven't done before. The whole thing: it's a tightrope, a Faustian dichotomy, always has been, even before I attended to my studies (in my mid thirties). Alas, I find myself in a world of dreary regulations, petty soap operas, farces, on a legal scale. I read common law cases, the philosophy of law (so to speak: Dicey, Montesquieu etc.) and the set text. It is so mind numbingly boring like you would not believe. You would have to really want to be a lawyer to read this material. Thankfully, I am, and I find it thoroughly interesting (for the most part). It's a great subject, petty, yes, pedantic, very much so, but still worthwhile learning.
Back to the darn assignment (the Latin commission), oh my giddy aunt. It's an absolute nightmare trying to make sense of this whole thang. Seriously. Even so, I remember this old car advert' on the telly, for ATS or something. There was a dodgy old mechanic, a Yorkshireman, dressed in dark blue overalls standing over an engine in a garage (here the word 'engine' is replaced with 'translation'), and he said, "They don't know what goes in 't translation, aye lad. I tell thee what goes in t' translation." They've not studied. Lazy buggers. Oh aye. Latin. Know all about that, aye.
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