hathycol | Oh, fuck it.

May as well admit it. On a bloody friends-locked post so keep it there thank you very much.

I have mild illusions of grandeur. Er. Basically. I'm writing this because I've been outed, so to speak, because I was a. talking about this very loudly in Aikman's the other day and b. at least two people have put the fairly obvious clues together because I am not effective at secrecy.

So, basically, I am The Bitter Historian. Er. It's a bit rubbish, but I'm using it as a writing exercise to try and make a more formal thing about what it's like to be here at St Andrews. It's not a replacement for LJ (which I have been on for five years come this March), and to be honest I'm probably going to get bored of the thing in a couple of months, but it's where I try and make coherant thoughts without always putting it in the personal. I think I'm failing spectacularly, but I'm enjoying myself and there seem to be a few commenters here and there, so that's a bit of fun, really. And hey, there's something fun about having a thinly veiled Mystique.

So, er, yes. LJ comes first, but it's where I try and put specifically town/gown stuff, mostly to save you lot, most of whom don't care all that much about St Andrews.

And yes, I know I'm completely and utterly sad and full of my own importance, mostly because I pimp it like mad all over The Sinner, but hey, there we are. As I said, it's a good writing exercise, and heaven knows I need to get back into the habit of doing writing that isn't a. an essay or b. the brain-splurge that is this LJ.