My amazing husband is running the Paris marathon this year - in April, which is just two months away. A mutual friend dared him to do it the Sunday after New Year: what better goal for the new year? He's been thinking of doing one for ages and this was exactly the kick he needed. So he's been running since then - surpassing everything he thought he could do, coming home with new enthusiasm, new aches, new pains, new highs, new reasons to stay out there.
He's running for 'Get Kids Going' and training with our friend who has run this marathon (and others!) before - invaluable experience to have out there on the training days.
This is a not-so-subtle call for donations - please donate! Anything would be amazing. You can even follow his training and likely beyond at his new blog: nas can't stop. Messages of support and sharing your experience of doing anything like this would be more than welcome.
PS. Tell all your friends about the philanthropic gesture of the year!
And thanks all... please visit Nas over there and tell him how cool he is.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Foodie blogs
Foodie I am - well, I'd like to be anyway - but even I, who can rhapsodize about the possibilities of supper at breakfast, am getting fed up with the incessant moralising of taste going on in various forums. Okay, that's just one example - hardly 'incessant'; I'd have a snarky comment if a student tried that in an essay.
I'm not a vegetarian and in the world of carniverous delights, I'm fairly conservative. I don't like the taste or texture of most offal - except, bizarrely, mushed up or chunked up as pate (I'll eat anything as pate) and I'm not rushing to prove my gastronomic worth by eating lamb brains or sweetbreads (or oysters - nope nope nope). I'd like to say I'll try anything once, but the fact is, I won't. I'm not vegetarian and I have little patience for the kind of moral absolutism that gets spouted in the name of vegetarianism and veganism. I'm afraid I don't believe that meat is murder - indeed, a more ridiculous comment I can't imagine. While I fully understand that what I consider edible - on practical or sentimental grounds - is largely prejudicial and based in culture, upbringing, and habit, I'm afraid that I don't really think that's worth any more than an interesting comparison. I'm not going to eat a dog simply because someone somewhere in the world does - what a ridiculous idea. While I am facinated by the connexions we draw between what people eat and who they are, I'm interested less in those connexions than in what they suggest about how we classify and create value in our societies. That's not to say that what we choose to eat doesn't have some kind of effect on our world, but to insist on evidence of 'fairness' in eating habits is just silly.
Hungry enough and sure, I'll likely eat just about anything. I've never been there - I'm not keen to get there, and I'm afraid that I think it is ludicrous to assume some kind of superiority of experience or personal moral worth for either A) having been in that situation or B) castigating people based on the supposition that because they haven't been starving and thus, have never been in the position of having to eat something they otherwise would find distasteful, they are somehow lacking. There isn't a reason why 'rat, dog, cat, or horse should not be perfectly acceptable and delicious' - I'm sure they are - but that doesn't mean I have to eat them. Eat less meat and eat better meat, definitely. When rat appears at the farmer's market I might give it a try but I sincerely hope that the apocalyptic tone of articles like this lightens. We are not in the siege of Vienna and the kind of rabid moralising it suggests is bizarre. We should be very aware of what we eat, but I refuse to believe that because I don't eat the plentiful supply of rats in my neighbourhood that I am guilty of behaviour that, in the words of Lady Bracknell 'lead to the worst excesses of the French Revolution'.
Recommended reading: The Raw and the Cooked - Claude Levi-Strauss; The Civilizing Process - Norbert Elias.
I'm not a vegetarian and in the world of carniverous delights, I'm fairly conservative. I don't like the taste or texture of most offal - except, bizarrely, mushed up or chunked up as pate (I'll eat anything as pate) and I'm not rushing to prove my gastronomic worth by eating lamb brains or sweetbreads (or oysters - nope nope nope). I'd like to say I'll try anything once, but the fact is, I won't. I'm not vegetarian and I have little patience for the kind of moral absolutism that gets spouted in the name of vegetarianism and veganism. I'm afraid I don't believe that meat is murder - indeed, a more ridiculous comment I can't imagine. While I fully understand that what I consider edible - on practical or sentimental grounds - is largely prejudicial and based in culture, upbringing, and habit, I'm afraid that I don't really think that's worth any more than an interesting comparison. I'm not going to eat a dog simply because someone somewhere in the world does - what a ridiculous idea. While I am facinated by the connexions we draw between what people eat and who they are, I'm interested less in those connexions than in what they suggest about how we classify and create value in our societies. That's not to say that what we choose to eat doesn't have some kind of effect on our world, but to insist on evidence of 'fairness' in eating habits is just silly.
Hungry enough and sure, I'll likely eat just about anything. I've never been there - I'm not keen to get there, and I'm afraid that I think it is ludicrous to assume some kind of superiority of experience or personal moral worth for either A) having been in that situation or B) castigating people based on the supposition that because they haven't been starving and thus, have never been in the position of having to eat something they otherwise would find distasteful, they are somehow lacking. There isn't a reason why 'rat, dog, cat, or horse should not be perfectly acceptable and delicious' - I'm sure they are - but that doesn't mean I have to eat them. Eat less meat and eat better meat, definitely. When rat appears at the farmer's market I might give it a try but I sincerely hope that the apocalyptic tone of articles like this lightens. We are not in the siege of Vienna and the kind of rabid moralising it suggests is bizarre. We should be very aware of what we eat, but I refuse to believe that because I don't eat the plentiful supply of rats in my neighbourhood that I am guilty of behaviour that, in the words of Lady Bracknell 'lead to the worst excesses of the French Revolution'.
Recommended reading: The Raw and the Cooked - Claude Levi-Strauss; The Civilizing Process - Norbert Elias.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Writing tales
Dead Poet's Society was on telly last night. This used to be one of my favourite films as an angsty teen; I watched it with more cynical eyes this time round. Oh for the pedagogical heaven of Welton ('Hellton') prep school! Nonetheless, it still got me right there and I was suitably moved by the struggles of those pretty boys.
A friend passed on The Writer's Tale, which is a book entirely composed of emails regarding the writing, rewriting, and production of Doctor Who, series 4 (and some of series 3). It's a delicious feast for a fan - and like the true geeky fangirl that I am, I loved it. It's difficult to read in one go and retains a lot of the sporadic and disconnected feel of email and text messaging but it also captures the magic of successful and good writing and the sense of accomplishment and passion that Davies (and the cast and crew) have (had!) for the show. All of which, of course, shows in the product. Reading the drafting process was really interesting - I wish I could work it into a module somehow. It would be such a lesson to students on the value of RE-writing, drafting, failing, and starting over.
For all I didn't start out as a fan of Catherine Tate's Donna Noble at the beginning of the series - mostly cos I was a huge fan of Freema Agyeman's Martha Jones - reading Davies' scripts and impressions of the character-in-development I have reconsidered. The ending of the series is tear-jerkingly good both as evidence of talented writing and television production: it's Flowers for Algernon redux. The scene is so brief and so packed - much more so than the previous rather problematic scene between the Doctor(s) and Rose Tyler. Though it does implicitly illustrate the Doctor's tendency to tyranny - for the good, of course, always for the 'good'. I know I have read something on a similar problem arising with the Doctor's actions in Planet of the Ood - something about the problematics of ethics and authority in Doctor Who. The doctor knows best but it is difficult to watch Donna writhe and plead without being offered the choice - does she want to return to the way she was before she turned left? The doctor's implicit maxim - that all life (and any life, apparently) is better than none - seems to negate Donna's control over her own destiny. While I am not taking away from the emotional register of the series, it does place Donna (though very unusual for a doctor's companion in many ways) squarely back in a dangerously gendered role: the self-sacrificing woman. The series already demanded that Donna sacrifice herself once (in Turn Left) in order to save the Doctor - and thereby the entire planet - so I find it a bit difficult to completely accept the ending that sees her power and development curtailed by the Doctor.
A friend passed on The Writer's Tale, which is a book entirely composed of emails regarding the writing, rewriting, and production of Doctor Who, series 4 (and some of series 3). It's a delicious feast for a fan - and like the true geeky fangirl that I am, I loved it. It's difficult to read in one go and retains a lot of the sporadic and disconnected feel of email and text messaging but it also captures the magic of successful and good writing and the sense of accomplishment and passion that Davies (and the cast and crew) have (had!) for the show. All of which, of course, shows in the product. Reading the drafting process was really interesting - I wish I could work it into a module somehow. It would be such a lesson to students on the value of RE-writing, drafting, failing, and starting over.
For all I didn't start out as a fan of Catherine Tate's Donna Noble at the beginning of the series - mostly cos I was a huge fan of Freema Agyeman's Martha Jones - reading Davies' scripts and impressions of the character-in-development I have reconsidered. The ending of the series is tear-jerkingly good both as evidence of talented writing and television production: it's Flowers for Algernon redux. The scene is so brief and so packed - much more so than the previous rather problematic scene between the Doctor(s) and Rose Tyler. Though it does implicitly illustrate the Doctor's tendency to tyranny - for the good, of course, always for the 'good'. I know I have read something on a similar problem arising with the Doctor's actions in Planet of the Ood - something about the problematics of ethics and authority in Doctor Who. The doctor knows best but it is difficult to watch Donna writhe and plead without being offered the choice - does she want to return to the way she was before she turned left? The doctor's implicit maxim - that all life (and any life, apparently) is better than none - seems to negate Donna's control over her own destiny. While I am not taking away from the emotional register of the series, it does place Donna (though very unusual for a doctor's companion in many ways) squarely back in a dangerously gendered role: the self-sacrificing woman. The series already demanded that Donna sacrifice herself once (in Turn Left) in order to save the Doctor - and thereby the entire planet - so I find it a bit difficult to completely accept the ending that sees her power and development curtailed by the Doctor.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Reader, review!
I've just watched a girl wearing fashionably tight - I think they go by the euphemistic name of 'skinny' - jeans try to pick up a pen she'd dropped on the floor. I'm afraid, as the catalyst for humour was fashion, that it was terribly funny. She managed a dip not entirely lacking in grace, had she been born a flamingo.
Speaking of fashion, I am wearing the crummiest old jumper - the library, bereft of heating (or patrons) for two weeks, is taking its time getting back to comfortable temperatures.
After Christmas, I picked up Labyrinth by Kate Mosse purely because she is speaking at a conference I am going to in June. The conference is (very briefly) on women writing history/writing women's history/the history of writing women, etc etc etc - Labyrinth is supposed to be an adventure involving 13th century Cathar France, the true grail, and some spunky heroines. The inside back cover indicates that if the prospective reader enjoyed The DaVinci Code, the Boudicca series by Manda Scott, or The Alchemist by Coelho, they were sure to love this one. It's a lesson, I reckon, in reading the inside back cover before making a purchase: I hated two of these and the other I just haven't read.
It's not that Labyrinth is so awful; it's just that it's boring, conventional, and without much interest in the characters beyond their plot function. The setting and history are fascinating but peopled by these characters, I'm just not interested. Alas. Kate Mosse is the co-founder and honorary director of the Orange Prize for fiction. I'm now quite curious to know why she was invited to the conference and what she'll say.
In the same bookstore run, I also picked up Gombrich's A Little History of the World. It has all the flaws and failings - or at least expected biases - of a history written before the second world war. But it is really rather charming and it does evince a great deal of respect for some peoples and cultures left of out of 'histories of the world' even now. It tends to treat the bible as an authoritative historical document and it's descriptions of the peoples of far east Asia would be struck from texts today as Orientalist at best, racist at worst. Interestingly, it was burned during WWII for being too pacifist.
Nasser read: James Morrow, The Philosopher's Apprentice.
Decision: crap - yet somehow compelling enough to finish. But crap. Which is too bad as I really rather enjoyed his earlier novels. Ah well. Luckily, it was £2 at a remainder bookshop in Skipton.
Speaking of fashion, I am wearing the crummiest old jumper - the library, bereft of heating (or patrons) for two weeks, is taking its time getting back to comfortable temperatures.
After Christmas, I picked up Labyrinth by Kate Mosse purely because she is speaking at a conference I am going to in June. The conference is (very briefly) on women writing history/writing women's history/the history of writing women, etc etc etc - Labyrinth is supposed to be an adventure involving 13th century Cathar France, the true grail, and some spunky heroines. The inside back cover indicates that if the prospective reader enjoyed The DaVinci Code, the Boudicca series by Manda Scott, or The Alchemist by Coelho, they were sure to love this one. It's a lesson, I reckon, in reading the inside back cover before making a purchase: I hated two of these and the other I just haven't read.
It's not that Labyrinth is so awful; it's just that it's boring, conventional, and without much interest in the characters beyond their plot function. The setting and history are fascinating but peopled by these characters, I'm just not interested. Alas. Kate Mosse is the co-founder and honorary director of the Orange Prize for fiction. I'm now quite curious to know why she was invited to the conference and what she'll say.
In the same bookstore run, I also picked up Gombrich's A Little History of the World. It has all the flaws and failings - or at least expected biases - of a history written before the second world war. But it is really rather charming and it does evince a great deal of respect for some peoples and cultures left of out of 'histories of the world' even now. It tends to treat the bible as an authoritative historical document and it's descriptions of the peoples of far east Asia would be struck from texts today as Orientalist at best, racist at worst. Interestingly, it was burned during WWII for being too pacifist.
Nasser read: James Morrow, The Philosopher's Apprentice.
Decision: crap - yet somehow compelling enough to finish. But crap. Which is too bad as I really rather enjoyed his earlier novels. Ah well. Luckily, it was £2 at a remainder bookshop in Skipton.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
2009
I like the number - mostly even and a little odd. Though I suppose odd where it counts.
Christmas without my family is odd too. And 2008 particularly so since I couldn't even picture everyone gathered around the tree at my parent's house, eloquently expressing how much they missed me. We were all spread about. And yet, we had a cosy and lovely Christms with very good friends - Nasser cooked Christmas lunch to a 'T'. Our turkey's name was Bob - he just looked like a Bob sitting there in the fridge. He was a white, free-range, organic turkey from some lovely people at the farmer's market in town. Roasted for many hours, dressed with herbs from our allotment and a generous massage of butter - he would have made Dickens rewrite A Christmas Carol to give the Cratchits a turkey rather than a goose. Logan and Laila thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas scraps - and their celebratory tin of tuna.
I didn't make it to mass this Christmas, but I did read the Christmas story - and A Christmas Carol just to cover all bases. Oh, and I did listen to the carol and 'lesson' service from Oxbridge - I can't remember which it was. Nas even got into it and proposed a sympathetic reading of ol' Scrooge as a man soured by grief more than avarice. Nothing like taking apart the classics for Christmas eve!
What I did in 2008
1. Finished my PhD
2. personal growth...blah blah blah
2009
1. Find employment that does not contain the words 'customer' or 'service' anywhere in the title
2. personal growth blah blah
Personal growth seems to be the topic of a lot of these blog thingies. I'm not one for 'Personal Development Plans (PDPs)'.
2009: C'mon!!
2009: Get it yerself!
2009: with a vengeance.
2009: ...
Christmas without my family is odd too. And 2008 particularly so since I couldn't even picture everyone gathered around the tree at my parent's house, eloquently expressing how much they missed me. We were all spread about. And yet, we had a cosy and lovely Christms with very good friends - Nasser cooked Christmas lunch to a 'T'. Our turkey's name was Bob - he just looked like a Bob sitting there in the fridge. He was a white, free-range, organic turkey from some lovely people at the farmer's market in town. Roasted for many hours, dressed with herbs from our allotment and a generous massage of butter - he would have made Dickens rewrite A Christmas Carol to give the Cratchits a turkey rather than a goose. Logan and Laila thoroughly enjoyed the Christmas scraps - and their celebratory tin of tuna.
I didn't make it to mass this Christmas, but I did read the Christmas story - and A Christmas Carol just to cover all bases. Oh, and I did listen to the carol and 'lesson' service from Oxbridge - I can't remember which it was. Nas even got into it and proposed a sympathetic reading of ol' Scrooge as a man soured by grief more than avarice. Nothing like taking apart the classics for Christmas eve!
What I did in 2008
1. Finished my PhD
2. personal growth...blah blah blah
2009
1. Find employment that does not contain the words 'customer' or 'service' anywhere in the title
2. personal growth blah blah
Personal growth seems to be the topic of a lot of these blog thingies. I'm not one for 'Personal Development Plans (PDPs)'.
2009: C'mon!!
2009: Get it yerself!
2009: with a vengeance.
2009: ...
