My love affairs were starting to get out of hand. My love affairs, and my drinking. It was no way for a particle physicist to behave. There was nothing for it, they said, but to send me to the South Pole.
“For how long?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” they said.
Don’t worry about it? The South Pole?
“Think of it as a chance to... reassess,” they said.