After an unusually productive morning in the library I have an unexpected open hour to reflect upon my transition from under- to postgraduate study at Newcastle, and I thought given the time of year I’d apply a suitable tortured festive metaphor. Sit back and bear with me – it gets relevant eventually, I promise.

Last night was spent decorating the living room at my house, putting up the ‘tree’ (a dubious label for a small branch borrowed from a conifer) and mulling what can only be described as a vat of wine. At least, my housemates engaged in these fun-filled seasonal activities. Not me. What, I hear you cry, was the life and soul of the party up to? Timetabling. Having made the mistake of proficiently throwing together a few passable meals for the house this term I have been designated the chef this year, and with a house largely empty of assistance until a short time before serving I will be soloing Christmas dinner. So, last night was spent shopping and drawing up a meticulous plan, right down to my own nervous breakdown scheduled shortly after serving.

The veg will be prepared at 18.00. The stuffing goes in at 18.25. Oh, and heaven forbid that the bird should get a minute more than planned – that would probably see the world end. Indeed, the further I waded into the process the more I realised how much I – veteran of a few half-decent one-pot curry efforts – had taken on. Only time will tell whether this experience will take me to new heights of both cooking and admiration from my housemates or eternally extinguish my hopes of attaining either. I will certainly have a darkened room on standby.

By now I imagine – assuming you’re still reading – that you’re beginning to wonder if there will ever be a point to all these meandering culinary ramblings. Well, there just may be. You see, while sat on the sofa last night considering eloping with the mince pies and eschewing responsibility I suddenly realised I had negotiated this process before. On a Masters course there is no more friendly spacing out of deadlines after discussions between lecturers, everything is just plonked in one place. In my case, this means nearly 10,000 words to submit in a very short time in January. Just like tonight’s culinary adventure this was more than a little daunting back in September, but as time has gone by I’ve learned to work with it. So, then, here lies the biggest difference thus far between my under- and postgraduate study at Newcastle; time management. It is an excellent way of demonstrating the value of a postgraduate degree. Such a course does not just teach you more about your subject and how it may be studied but leaves you with skills beyond those you could attain during normal undergraduate study. I can only hope I’ll be able to say the same after this evening.

I’ll leave the novella there for now and finish by wishing a Merry Christmas to one and all!