Yesterday I saw a tall Scottish researcher (whose been in the library every day since I started my programme here in September) yell at an undergraduate who took his seat.
Yesterday I saw an undergraduate swear at a very famous literary critic who wouldn’t let her talk to her friend about the facebook gossip.
Today I couldn’t get a seat in Rare Books, though I’m working on printed material from the 15th century, though the average undergraduate was working on now-refuted theory from about 1975.
It’s okay, but it’s inconvenient for those of us who need first editions of metaphysical poets.
