Perhaps I ought to confess to succumbing to what I call "Lifer's paranoia". This involves looking for, and suspecting, a Grand Plan being formed behind the scenes by staff. It's not an affliction that I'm often afflicted with; any urge to see non-existent patterns in managerial behaviours is offset by my unfailing belief that the people who run my life couldn't organise a shag in a brothel.
And so, having had a second meeting with the relevant manager, I am actually persuaded that some small amount of goodwill may be emanating from the necessary quarters. It's been so long since that's happened that I didn't recognise it.
In principle, then, I have agreed to take the offer of doing my research "in-cell". Now the hard negotiating begins to try to minimize the part of the deal that involves me being banged-up all day. I do rather fancy seeing the sun at some point over the next few months. Gaining a PhD would have the edge taken off it if it's accompanied with rickets!
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I'm pleased for you Ben, and praying for you to get all the sunshine you need = )
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