Selwyn is, at the moment, in the middle of the highly stressful procedure known as ballotting. Essentially, this is an advanced form of psychological torture, roughly akin to experiencing sensory deprivation whilst undergoing Chinese water torture and being electrocuted. On a rack. With a sharp pendulum blade swinging above you, and a fiery pit beneath.
Despite the main purpose of this procedure being to provide some innocent, harmless amusement for the college Fellows, a happy by-product of it is that you end up with a room for next year. I shall have a very nice room with an amazing view of Old Court out of the window, so I suppose it was all worth it in the end.
On a side note, any perceptive readers will recall that I was awaiting the result of an application for a vacation scheme with an unnamed London law firm. (If you do not so recall, go back and start reading all the posts again. And pay attention this time.) Anywho, the long and short of it is that this firm recently bestowed upon me a rejection email, with one of those wonderful clauses at the end that say "Don't bother asking us why". Nice.
In order to safeguard the law firm from reprisals from my army of loyal and dedicated supporters, I shall describe them only as "J. Day." Or on second thoughts, I suppose "Jones D." would be better. Whichever floats your boat.
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