It’s done now. Well the hard part. I still have to concoct some “conclusions” and think up some “further work”. Oh, and write the “abstract”. But I’m doing none of that until the Fat Controller, my supervisor, and I meet this week, just in case he suggests a lot of changes. I don’t think he will though. He knows I would just give him my I’m ten years your senior, boy, so don’t tell me what to do look and he’d have to relent.
I really shouldn’t be slagging him - he’s one of the soundest lads you’d meet. As sound as a €1.27 and he’s been a great help. And one of the few I’ve crossed paths with in academia who understands that my day job, the one that puts beer on the counter, has to take precedence over writing 100 pages of bumph that only a small few will ever read.
The one thing I really hated about this was having to cite references throughout. You can’t say “the cat sat on the mat” unless you can back it up with a paper paper given by say, Catologist, Dr. F. E. Line, at the 5th International Carpet Conference in Caracas in 2005. On a Tuesday. About teatime.
The Fat Controller was brilliant at finding such wonderful bedtime reading as this in the labyrinth the university call a library.
Now the CEO of the railway, the course co-ordinator, was a different kettle of horses altogether. A fish of a different colour. About as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. He caused more confusion than father’s day in Tallaght.
He asked us all to attend a workshop in July. “Who will be doing a work based thesis? A show of hands please.” All hands went up. “Who will be doing a research based thesis?” (Yes, he really did ask!) No hands obviously. He talked for two hours about research based theses.
Before the Feathers, I sent him the same email three times: “Your website states three hardbound copies of the thesis must be presented … Where do we present them? What are the specifications? Does the university have a preferred print supplier? [And so on]“. No replies. I phoned. No answer.
I went by his office the week before last. Not there. I dropped in next door to the Fat Controller. We bitched for a while. I suggested renumbering his office 665 - the neighbour of the beast. He opted not to, but promised to put my queries to the beast himself. In a neighbourly sort of way.
Just in the door and I get a mail from the CEO: “I am doing a survey. Can you tell me where you heard about the course?” I felt like telling him to go fcuk himself - that information was already provided on my application form if he’d bother his arse to look in his filing cabinet. But I didn’t. I was far more polite: “You answer my questions from before Christmas first. Then I’ll gladly answer any you have”. That was more polite, wasn’t it?
I did a survey of my own. Some of my fellow students were struggling to finish their work like me. Others were done and dusted. Three already had their theses bound (at up to €60 per copy) and were waiting to be told by the CEO where to submit them.
Last week, the Fat Controller called. “Good news, Primal. You only need to soft bind two copies - one for me and one for the external examiner. Once approved, you have until September to worry about hard binding the three copies for the exams office. Do not, for the life of you, hard bind now - the extern may suggest edits”.
Writing a thesis is hard enough without having to cope with plonkers like the CEO. Such incompetence wouldn’t be tolerated outside of academia. As a wise man once said, if you did that in Russia, you’d be fcuked in the Liffey.
But there was sunshine, or maybe moonshine, throughout all this too - You folks! Thankee all very many for the encouraging comments. Without them I would have been, I don’t know, sniffing boot polish or something. A particular hat-tip to Aonghus who unwittingly, or wittingly, I’m not sure, gave me the inspiration for the concept I was seeking that would bind the whole thesis together when he quoted Tony Hoare: Simplíocht an praghas atá le n-íoc ar iontaofacht. It pulled it all together. G’raibh maith agat. Mo ceol thú.
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Writing citations is without doubt more boring than a juiced-up woodworm-with-a-grudge in the chair leg of a woodworm-control consultant.
I take my hat off to you Sneezy for all the hard work!
I look forward to some real good stories now!
Fáilte is fiche romhat.
Wittingly, I hope.
I am given to quoting that, and Djikstra on elegance, in and out of season.
Saoícht luachmhar atá ann.
Sam - Not only are you correct, but you are right. [PS_08]
[PS_08] Sneeze, P., (2008), On the correctness of Problem Bride Children on weblogs and other user driven Internet applications, pp. 42-44, ch. 12, published by WordPress.
Grannymar - Keep your hat on, woman! It’s damned cold out today.
I’m not sure about stories at the moment - I have a few major rants building up. We’ll see what happens.
Aonghus - I quoted Dijkstra in it a couple of times too, including I don’t need to waste my time with a computer just because I am a computer scientist. [Medical researchers are not required to suffer from the diseases they investigate.] Oh, and thanks again, for your witting reminder.
I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t cite a reference for saying you have to cite references. You could be just making this all up as you go along*.
*comedic simile popularised by Monty Python’s Life of Brian
The best way to write a conclusion is to say “I conclude that…” and proceed to write all the odd bits and pieces you couldn’t fit in anywhere else.
Well done Primal.
Now at least you can get together with Derek the Diesel, Gordon, James, and Harold the Helicopter and nip down the pub for a few.
You must be hella relieved, Primal.
I have to depart and say that I developed a sick fondness for footnotes in my diss.
My committee kept saying lose the notes and tell of effing story. So I buried the cites in footnotes, but I wanted all that work in reading to show somewhere.
You’ve earned your pints.
Congrats and enjoy.
Congrats!
Jaysus the thought of ever entering academia again gives me the hee bee jeebies.
Eolaí - Oh, damn - forgot that bit. I did manage to squeeze in blessed are the cheesemakers[5]
Sam - That’s they way I do blog posts too.
White girl - Derek the Diesel! Damn it - I’ve been calling him Diesel Dick, which I now remember is a affliction suffered by long distance truckers.
Medbh - There’s always stuff you can’t fit in isn’t there. That’s the killer. Meeting the Fat Controller tomorrow and if he doesn’t ask for too many edits, then pints for sure.
John - I went back after nearly 20 years. I must be plain stupid! Or a masochist!
[5] This is not meant to be taken literally. It refers to any manufacturer of dairy produce.
Oi! I’ve copyrighted that method of blogging! You owe me at least 20p!
Oi! I’ve copyrighted that method of blogging! You owe me 20p at the very least!
The relief you feel when it’s all done will be overwhelming. I detest referencing too. Goood on ya!
All that without sniffing boot polish?
*waggles head in admiration*
Sam - Ok, ok, ok. I’ll pay the 20p just this once. From now on, I’m starting my posts with conclusions.
Conorín - I’m not there yet. But nearly. The fat lady hasn’t sung, but she’s clearing her throat.
Caro - Well maybe just a teeny weeny bit of boot polish. For the sinuses you understand.