Rather high on the list of ‘why didn’t I?’-moments in my life is the summer of 2001. My life as a fifth year’s student of mathematics had become as aimless as a John Terry penalty and as dull as a Geoff Hurst anecdote; hence in my eternal wisdom I decided not to go abroad for a some time, but rather spend at least another four years doing almost the same. I am still grateful for the job I had been given, mind you, and I did mostly have an enjoyable time but, when a few years later I found myself at a point in life when I did need to focus, I found myself incapable of doing so. As a side-effect of all that, I still have not finished that damn thesis.

Which in turn helped me find a goal today, which was a bank holiday, and which I would have spent in an aimless haze otherwise. Instead, disregarding any ‘should I not have done this earlier?’-feelings, I am suddenly feeling rather happy with myself. When I am done with the thesis —note how the if has become a when again— I might even start missing it.