Time to do it. Time to put the manuscript together, print it out, copy it and send it to Bergen. I have spent the morning doing laundry, ironing curtains and cleaning windows, a sure sign that there is something else I avoid. It is this: to finish the thesis, to send it away, to say that this is it and now I have to live with what genius or stupidity it expresses. I am not ready, but I realise that I never will be. It is time for me and my thesis to part. I am not good at endings or departure.