I am writing an essay on brotherhood in Irish Fenian tales, another about community archaeology in Scotland and a third comparing two traditional folk-drama plays from where my family live in Yorkshire. I have a bad habit of letting my work surround me until I can't see anything over or around it, and I look a little like this in my own imagination.
I have been dreaming of BKFST and listening to snow tunes. Despite the fact that the crocuses are all out and Spring is pushing through, the melodies take me straight back to a bone-deep exhaustion, endless woollen layers, frostbitten finger tips and the smell of winter.
I will be home for Spring break by the time the daffodils are out.
I have been dreaming of BKFST and listening to snow tunes. Despite the fact that the crocuses are all out and Spring is pushing through, the melodies take me straight back to a bone-deep exhaustion, endless woollen layers, frostbitten finger tips and the smell of winter.
I will be home for Spring break by the time the daffodils are out.
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