Sigh. Essay still not existant. Have done loads and loads of reading today, and think I have my head round some of the more exotic ideas, but the actual useful information seems to be a little scattered to the four winds. In the later papers, they can talk about what things are confidently, but don't ever try and do the maths, referring you back to the really old papers, where yes, they were actually doing the maths, but didn't have a clue what they were doing. Thank heavens for Mike Procters lecture notes, which seem to be the only sensible thing out there that explains how to do stuff while at the same time knowing what stuff it's trying to do. Still going to be a lot of effort pulling it together into something coherant before the deadline though.
M. has been trully lovely, taking all the stress of living off my hands by sorting out the dishwasher, cooking me food, and just generally hugging me and keeping me happy. He seems to have the balence of knowing when I just can't work and need to be left alone to miserably spod, and knowing when I'm pointlessly wasting time and need pointing in the right direction again. Now he's out at a party, and I am alone with my papers. I think I'll try and read through the current one and then curl up in bed with Mannervilles book on convection. Fun, fun, fun.
I don't deserve him. These last few days have been like falling in love with him all over again. I just want to touch him, be hugged by him, sit round chatting with him... and I close my eyes and I see him grinning, or sleeping (looking angelic, and about 5), or doing the nostrils-and-eyebrows thing. Re-reading all the old emails from before we were going out was funny. Ah, Clare and Coenna... He's just so caring. I really don't deserve him. And I have to snap out of my self destructive habit of testing people to breaking poing to see if they really love me. If only it were after the exams.