PhDiaries, #6

In which the wheels fall off the rollercoaster

This week’s email is too long for some email clients - if you get cut off you can finish reading on the Substack website or app.

Monday:

It’s a slow, achey wake-up after yesterday’s Half-Marathon, but then the hunger finally hits and I make my way down to the hotel breakfast room for a couple of coffees and a croissant. I get a breaking news bulletin from the New York Times - Live Updates: Pope Leo Says He Has ‘No Fear’ After President’s Attack. Yet another moment where 2026 feels like a simulation.

On the way to Victoria Coach Station, I bump into a uni Quiz Society friend, and we have a lovely chat - it’s a wonderful surprise to see a friendly face, and a reminder that even as big as London is, that is something that happens sometimes.

I get back to Bristol about 5pm and collapse straight into bed, exhausted.

Tuesday:

After an hour or so of desk work, I head down to the gym in my building to spend some time on the stationary bike - I’ve planned to start a rewatch of The West Wing but for some reason the Channel 4 app won’t load it properly on my iPad, so I start The Pitt on Now TV. I might as well use it to watch something other than Heated Rivalry, you know? 50 minutes later, episode one is done and I’m hooked - plus it feels great to have shaken some of the stiffness out of my legs.

I make my way up to uni for a meeting with my PhD supervisors. This is sort of like a regular monthly one-to-one you might have at work, except that there’s two of them and one of me. I’ve been worried about this one, but the discussion we have is really constructive and productive, and I come away feeling much more confident about the shape of the project and how I’m going to make progress on it.

In the evening we have the Quiz Society AGM, where we elect next year’s committee. I’ve been ‘tournaments officer’ this year, which has been great fun and a fantastic way to give back for all the joy getting involved in quizzing has given me since I’ve come back to uni - but it’s great to find out who I’ll be handing over to!

Wednesday:

Your girl’s an international traveller. Despite living in Bristol for almost three years now, and having spent a fair bit of time in North Wales, I’d never been to Cardiff before this week, but I jump on a mid-morning train and head off for a very exciting day. First, I get an incredible breakfast brioche roll (the fried egg has a runny yolk and it’s all perfectly seasoned) from Wyndham Cafeteria, and then browse the shops in the Royal Arcade.

I’m looking at paper for a very special project I’m working on… keep your eyes open for news on that 😉 - and have a fabulous time exploring the emporium that is The Pen And Paper shop.

Then it’s time to head over to the National Museum Cardiff, which is surprisingly busy for a Wednesday in April, where I’ve booked a ticket for their temporary exhibition of Gwen John’s work.

I hadn’t heard of John until I saw the advertising campaign for this exhibition, but I’m always interested in late-19th century women’s art, and the style of the images I saw looked right up my street. I didn’t really know what to expect but loved the frequent cat pictures (humans never change, really, do we) and the themes of meditative work (here’s a Guardian review of the exhibition with more information and pictures). A number of the paintings are on loan from the personal collection of fashion designed J. W. Anderson, whose design aesthetic I love - so in that sense it’s really not a surprise how much the art I see resonates with me.

I’ve been thinking about the concept of ‘eco-theology’ lately and the religious through-line of the art (John converted to Catholicism as an adult and spent a lot of time with nuns in a convent) really appeals to me.

John described herself as “God’s instrument” and created many pictures based on a then-famous prayer card image of Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Thérèse’s practice was called the ‘Little Way’, which, according to the exhibition, is about “the holiness of small, everyday acts and things,” similar (again, according to the exhibition’s supporting narrative) to Saint David (the patron saint of Wales)’s teaching to “do the small things.”

The day’s not done yet… I head slightly further up the road to the Sherman Theatre, for the musical adaptation of Pride.

This is the last week of previews in Cardiff before the show goes to the National Theatre in London for the summer. If you can get yourself a ticket, you absolutely must - it’s incredibly well done, and if Samuel Barnett doesn’t get an Olivier Award for his performance as Jonathan Blake, I might just riot. Barnett was in the original National Theatre - and film - cast for The History Boys, which is a show that was incredibly influential to me as a young adult, and it’s fantastic to see him in this wonderful role. What makes it even more special is that the real Jonathan Blake is in the audience, sitting a few rows behind me. If it was unbelievable that he - one of the first HIV patients to be diagnosed in London, back in 1982 - was still alive and healthy when the film came out in 2014, it’s even more incredible to see him alive in 2026.

Later in the week, I talk about the show with my mum, who was a young adult during the events it portrays, and we discuss how for me it’s history in a different way than it is for her and my dad. She tells me that when my dad was working at BBC Radio 1 in the 80s and 90s, he worked on HIV awareness campaigns - I hadn’t heard that before, but it makes me very proud.

Thursday:

Unsurprisingly, after that mega day (I caught the last train home, and don’t walk through my front door until just after 1 AM), I’m exhausted - and the slight headache that was brewing yesterday has turned into a much worse one. I have a pre-scheduled phone appointment with my doctors’ surgery to review my mental health meds, and the prescriber orders me a full blood test to check my iron levels along with my thyroid numbers. Then I bundle up with a Lemsip and hide under a blanket for the rest of the day.

Friday:

The headache has turned into ‘just’ sinus pressure now, which is fairly standard for me, but still painful. I decide this must just be my body reacting to all I’ve put it through over the last week, and take a proper ‘sick day,’ including watching the rest of The Pitt season 1. I can see why people rave about it so much, and it scratches a similar ‘competence porn’ itch to The West Wing and The Newsroom, both of which I love. That said, I’m very glad I’m watching it on an iPad, so I can cover the screen with my hands when there’s especially… body-y images.

Saturday:

It’s a sunny day and I emerge from my nest for the first time in a little while, to pick up groceries and send a friend’s birthday present. I even do laundry and change my sheets - which always feels especially good after a couple of days of bed rotting.

I dig in to my pre-ordered copy of Cherry Baby (ad - affiliate link) by Rainbow Rowell and finish it over the course of the day. When I first close the book, I ‘m not happy with how it ended - but in the hours afterwards, I reflect on the choices Rowell made to finish it that way, and could see exactly why she made them. It’s a better book with this ending than the instinctive way I wanted it to end - and it really earned its happy ending this way.
As always for a Rainbow Rowell novel, we get really thoughtful discussion of bodies and what it’s like to be in a bigger one - now with extra GLP1 thoughts. There’s a related conflict in the novel which isn’t fully resolved - and that’s just like life. Honestly, I think this is the best encapsulation I’ve seen anywhere of what it’s like to be in a bigger body in 2026. I’m still getting Substack notifications for the comment thread on a viral article about someone’s flatmate being on GLP1s, and how it’s changed their home dynamic - the amount of argument in the comments really shows, to me, how important it is to have this dialogue about what it’s like to have a bigger body while others all around you are shrinking.

My Roommate’s On Ozempic & It’s Causing Chaos In The Apartment

Don’t let me distract you into thinking this is the book’s biggest theme - it’s absolutely not. What it is, is a second-chance romance. And there’s a really cute dog. I hope this flies off the shelves - and I suspect it will be 2027’s big summer paperback.

Sunday:

I go for my first run since last week’s half-marathon and it’s quite possibly the slowest I have ever gone - which, for me, is really saying something. But it’s great to be out in the sun and getting my legs moving again!

A friend sends me a gift link for Caity Weaver’s (of “My 14-Hour Search for the End of TGI Friday’s Endless Appetizers” fame) incredible new article - essay - on her search for the best free restaurant bread in the USA.

Stay with me.

It’s so much more than you might think from that title. We get a meditation on what restaurant dining means, on what the point of it all is, and what the point of the bread specifically is. Weaver talks about her family relationships, and her dad especially - warning, you may need tissues. She speaks to, and then completely disregards the advice of, fancy restaurant critics. You’ll never look at a free restaurant bread basket again.

One of the best restaurant breads I’ve ever had the privilege of eating myself was at The Greyhound, Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire. It’s different every time, but all made on site and accompanied with beautifully flavoured butter. As I’m lucky enough not to pay the bill when we go there, I couldn’t tell you for sure if it’s “free restaurant bread,” but we always do the lunch set menu, and there’s a whole flurry of lovely little extras they bring to the table over the course of the meal, so I believe it counts as ‘free’ as one of those? It’s a restaurant that’s all about the hospitality, with the beautiful food as one part of that - I highly recommend it if you’re ever in that part of the country and want a truly gorgeous celebratory lunch. The owners are about to open a more casual ‘bistro’ just around the corner which should have all the important ingredients with a more ‘make this your regular dinner spot’ price point.