There’s some strange correlation between my determination to work and the temptation of procrastination: the more determined I am to work hard, the more tempting the guises in which procrastination presents itself.
It’s the start of a new academic year, so naturally I’m resolved to turn over a new leaf and work my little cotton socks off; I’m not actually wearing socks right now – I’m wearing tights instead – but that’s beside the point. I’m going to be an outstandingly dedicated student; I mean it this year.
Which is, of course, why I’ve spent my afternoon doing nothing more productive than sit around the house watching old episodes of QI on YouTube. I can kid myself that this is productive, though, because it leads me to the first hero of the year: Stephen Fry.
Stephen Fry is, let’s face it, one of the closest things we have to a legend in current existence. He’s the kind of person you really, really wish was your benevolent old uncle, just so you could get drunk with him at Christmas and have the benefit of his amazing wit on tap. He’s like the ultimate brain: really, really clever and really, really funny. And therefore really, really cool.
He also makes procrastination a worthwhile experience, because watching QI is an educational extravaganza. When Stephen Fry teaches me things, I feel like I’ve not been wasting my time. This afternoon alone I’ve learnt that armadillos can contract leprosy, that the first vacuum cleaner was horse-drawn, that the V-sign has nothing whatsoever to do with having your fingers cut off by French people and that ligers really do exist (I thought they just made that up for Napoleon Dynamite). I’m not sure I even learn that much in an afternoon of lectures.
