Being an English Literature student definitely has its perks when it comes to the holidays. A lack of formal exams teases me with the prospect of an actual holiday during my time back in my hometown, Leicester. No revision, no stress, and best of all? Late mornings. Or so you’d think.
Instead, upon the first morning after my arrival home, I found myself awake at the crack of dawn. There were birds still singing. And whilst some morning-lovers embark upon their day with a glass-full of high hopes, others, such as myself, are not so keen on the beams of early-hour sunlight that scald my retinas through the window-panes. Who would have thought so many of us share something in common with Dracula?
As I ambled down the stairs, the scent of dark-roast coffee roused me from my vampiric stupor; a scent that, when combined with the arrival of a certain piece of difficult but interesting literature, – Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales – replaced the pain of the early hours with a little enthusiasm.
And as I was sat, nose-deep in my black coffee and perusing through The Canterbury Tales, I came across a quote which stuck with me for the rest of the day:
“For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde,
Ay fleeth the tyme; it nyl no man abide.” – Geoffrey Chaucer
Now I may not have a clue what Chaucer’s medieval ramblings literally meant, but I’ll hazard a guess at its essence;
No matter what we choose to do with our time, we can never get it back.
Probably how some of you feel after reading this post.