Revision, etc...

I don't know if this is a common sight everywhere, but in my town I often see a small group of hapless people running around the town in the late evening, wearing leotards and t-shirts. They're members of some form of running club, I believe, which, judging from the look of the people involved, also dabbles in the odd bout of sado-masochism and witchcraft. Judging a book by its cover is underrrated. They also have all the survival instincts of a green-haired, blue-wearing lemming, and love nothing more than running out in front of my car without even the most cursory of glances.

It struck me recently that revision is a lot like going running. When you're about to start, you dread it, and start desperately thinking of excuses to avoid it. Once you get going, you can feel it slowly starting to shrivel your soul and transform you into a beastlike form, but press on anyway, pretending to enjoy it and convincing yourself that its actually doing you some good. Then when it's all over, it leaves you drained and fit for nothing, able to communicate only by grunts and having lost the ability to read. At least, that's what revision does to me.

On a pleasingly random side note, I've noticed a grave loss on our television screens. Those of you who are as elderly as I am may remember that, just before the adverts came on, there used to be a little black and white striped box in the top corner. Where's it gone?? I think we should be told.