One of the bad things about going to conferences is that you might run into people who are working on similar things as you do and who are very, very enthusiastic about what they do. If bad comes to worse, they might actually pass this enthusiams on to you. Or, if you are already enthusiastic yourself, might rouse your enthusiasm to fever-pitch. If you hate it when something like this happens, you should better steer clear of the conferences of the Research Society for Victorian Periodicals. For these people are bad: they not only fill your head with ideas (oh dear!), but they also inspire you to do research (oh dear, oh dear!).
In case you wonder where this all leads, well … I just want you to be in possession of all facts in order to show you that I’m blameless. Completely blameless. Because, as you all know, I have generally an abhorrence of books and never buy the things (after all, they fill up your shelves in this rather disorderly fashion and then they start to mulitply like rabbits and that creates an entirely new set of problems! ghastly things, books!!!). That leaves only one possible solution: during my last stay in the US I’ve been bewitched by these Victorian periodicals people. In other words: IT’S NOT MY FAULT!
For today I’ve finally succumbed and bought these: 26 volumes of Punch. *happy sigh* (It’s a good thing my shelves are so empty – because I never buy books, you know – because where would I store those beauties if it were otherwise?)