World leader, pretend

I'm slowing moving up the ranks in the library towards my ultimate goal of LIBRARY DOMINATION. As of September, I'm a CSA 1 - a step up from my current lowly position as CSA. It doesn't come with a pay-rise, but I do get an extra shift during the week. I also managed to secure a few hours a week over the summer, which should keep us from selling 'The Big Issue' outside of the Victoria Quarter.

This morning we went running the opposite direction down the canal path - exciting times. It's actually a bit tougher than the way we usually run as the locks are towards the city centre which means its downhill one way and uphill the way home... It's getting warm finally and I need to find some summer running clothes - NOT SHORTS however. I have a pathological hatred of myself in shorts. I'm thinking more those trendy short-pants or long-shorts.

Can I take a moment and wax on about running? I love running. I love it so much. I love that it actually makes me leave a pub early, get up early, get out early. I love having an entire morning after running when I'm feeling absolutely great. I love the fact that I have two little abdominal muscles developing. I love my new legs with ropey bits of muscle clearly visible. I love that it is free, ethical, environmental - it's really the Ultimate Good.

Today I walked to work without my coat.

And we're curing our own bacon - not nearly as cool as saying I smoke my own bacon but our neighbourhood isn't so dodgy as to allow random fires/smoking piles of stuff... I'm very excited. I bought a side of free-range, organic, rare-breed pork belly (Gloucestershire Old Spot) from the farmer's market a few weeks ago (for a tenner he let me have that and a beautiful tenderloin which we had the other night) . Now it is sitting in our fridge, 'curing' away, (hopefully) turning into the best bacon we've ever had. I'll keep you posted.

Things I want to do in the next five years:

I usually hate these kind of goal oriented lists - so I've called this things I want to do, rather than things i 'will accomplish' or some other nonsense. It must be turning 30 - which doesn't bother me, but it's a nice round number to think about and ponder over - not too hard, mind you.

* run a half-marathon

* have a kitchen with a dining area big enough to have a table and chairs which we will then actually use for eating. As is, our kitchen fits the two of us standing very close together. We did have a table and chairs in the lounge but, as with any flat surface, it became a paper-holding space. How I long to sit at a table or stand around a kitchen island while eating!

* publish my book.

* start my career.

* learn sign language. The library runs a scheme that grants employees funding for courses not directly related to our jobs. It's a perfect waste not to get free education so I've been casting around for something to take up. When Nas was ill years ago we got out a book of AmSign to play with and loved it. I've forgotten what we taught ourselves now.

* travel more. Pretty open, I know. But it's just embarassing to have been living here this long and never have gotten to France... Or Belgium...

* have a house with storage space and a spare room and windows on more than one side. Pretty bourgeois, I know. Dare I add a garden and studio room for Nas? I mean, I thought it unrealistic to want a house of our own in five years, especially as we want to build.

I'm sure there are more. I like lists. Anyway, I'm not 30 for another week (five days actually!) so I'll keep on a-thinkin'.

drabble

I slept well last night but obviously in some contortionists pose as I woke up with my neck and shoulders in agony. Annoyingly, it hasn't gone away. Interestingly, I'm forced into really excellent posture as it is the only position that seems to offer any relief. Irritatingly, I have to go to York this afternoon to give a paper at their post-grad seminar series. The train journey will not be comfortable!

The interviews for the one-year lectureship here at the uni were this morning. I considered applying but chose not to on the basis of my scanty publications (that is, none). One thing I realise having sat through the candidates - I should have applied. Bother.

sunday afternoons and teaspoons

The weather did not co-operate but we didn't care - and we braved the incliment outdoors for about 2 1/2 hours before retiring to our friend's generously donated house. Such a lovely party! Though there were no party frocks, linen trousers, or croquet, we did have two games of Kubb going and spillikins (a giant version of pick-up-sticks - I loved it!). And so much food! But most of all, good friends at ease with each other. How fortunate we are in our friends here.

Nasser's cake went down a hit and small wonder - Look at it!


I am not a good hostess, however. I ran for an hour in the morning and then spent from about 10am until 3pm cooking for the party - with the result that I made lovely food but was exhausted by about 8pm! Ah well.

Today the rain hasn't stopped since about 9.30...it's not cold, though. So just a nice, cosy, spring storm. These days always remind me of the conservatory in our old house in Simcoe. I remember wearing a striped shirt - red, I think - and there was a brass lamp with a frosted glass shade, cut like a lily, shining from on top of an old bureau with an ancient radio on top. That radio had an 8-track player in it. This memory is from before the kitchen was redone and I'm sitting on the old black and tan couch which was on the wall facing the back door. I can see from the corner of my eye (or maybe I know it so well, I can see without looking) the cork wall beside the kitchen table and the linoleum floor running from the kitchen into the sun-room - little squares and rectangles of colour in a pattern I never did figure out. There is rain on the windows, still falling heavily on the skylights - it is late afternoon and darker than it should be. The windows in the room have fogged up with breath and cooking. I am young and comfortable and reading Bambi: a Life in the Woods by Felix Salten.

Now I am comfortable and older - there is rain on the window though it is no longer falling outside. It is dark out - but only the usual dimness of a cloudy spring afternoon; there are no trees outside my window to filter the light. My cats are curled up with my husband on the couch that faces the stairs. The television is on, perched on a black stand we salvaged from the bin-yard. In front of me is the memory I have written out - a passage of time - behind me (seen with vision sharper then my poor eyes) could be my parents' home in Canada, an apartment in Kingston, a flat in Windsor or, as memory and the present resolve, my home here and now.

It's my party...

Kind of... four of my friends were born in May too. So we're having one big party. I'm the only gemini though - so I'm of two minds about it all...

Nas is making a cake as we speak - he even went out and bought silly decorations - little animal shapes and marshmallows. It's not a bunny cake, I'll admit, but still very sweet. He did make me a birthday bunny cake the first year we were here - best cake a girl could have, right sis?

I'm making lovely dippable things - perfect for eating while holding a drink. And sushi and Spanish tortilla - both culinary memories of good friends who live far away now.

And moi? I am dying my hair - for the party, you see. I found a bunch of old henna blocks from Lush (oh how I love Lush!). I forget what colour they were supposed to be though so the result may be a surprise: either red or chestnut, I think. Or nothing; it's hard to tell with henna. I used to dye my hair crazy colours on purpose. There was the last day of exams in my third year at Queen's - bright bright purple (I'm not sure why - I wasn't an engineer). My flatmate's parents came to pick her up that afternoon - mid-dye; they'd never met me before - I'm not sure what kind of impression I made. I distinctly recall not caring though! Then there was the summer of peroxide blonde...with fire-engine red fringe. Oh how my grandmother trembled for the future! Henna tends to leak green - I wouldn't mind if my hair turned out green - dark green preferably. I could claim I was turning into the Hulk.

Back to the present: perhaps I will dress up and take a photo of me at my party with my hair. Here is one of what I look like mid-process:



(fast forward to)

double double

In all my excitement, I forgot that I had indeed posted about my fantastic meeting with my supervisor... apologies for the repeat. Obviously it was so good that I felt obliged to tell the world twice.

The sun is still shining so gloriously today - I am not getting anything done in my office except some reading... I have to work at 5, so am determined to stay until then and 'work'...

Zizek!

I forgot to say - after all my stress (including calling my grandmother in near-tears and making her worry!), I had a really excellent supervisory meeting last Friday.

I also forgot to mention that we saw SpiderMan3 on the weekend. It's so awful. My god - over 2 hours of complete and utter drivvel. Not even Bruce Campbell could save it (though he was the one spot of relief!). It's just so very republican - so very normative and deterministically heterosexual. So very boring.

And we watched Little Miss Sunshine - which was very feel-good.

Took a kicking in squash yesterday. I don't like playing a game of squash - keeping score makes it less fun for me, even when I'm winning. But it was still fun. I didn't keep score - though I definitely lost! And we went for a good run today in the early morning sunshine.

Saturday, we're hoping for very good weather as we're planning a day in the park - 5 May birthdays (mine included).

Oh yes, I also found this: Zizek! It's a documentary film about the Slovenian academic. See, academics are cool.

Eat(ing), Drink(ing), and Be(ing) Merry

I'm still alive! My meeting with my supervisor was fantastic - as usual. Actually, it was better than usual as we were able, for the first time, to talk about the project as a whole. She asked me what my thesis was about and I answered - and answered well. So now, in the final stretch, I have a month to submit my introduction and chapter one. And so on from there.

Our friend visited from London this weekend - which was lovely. Friday we just sat around - all exhausted (she teaches primary school in London) - ate pasta and listened to music while catching up and such. Saturday we went into Leyburn with a bunch of friends from Leeds for the food and drink festival. Lovely beers!! And the food tent! Nasser ate enough meat to last him a couple days at least. They had amazing ice-cream stalls too - our friend G-- had ginger ice-cream. I had green gooseberry and mango frozen yoghurt. They also had a very interesting farming display with the theme 'Farming for Food' about local, sustainable farming projects. They had calves (squee!!) and a some very strange looking sheep (they looked like they had dredlocks...). Inside there was a display of textile production (for which the Aire valley is historically important): from the sheep (stinky, matted wool coated in lanolin) to the finest skeins. And I didn't realise that different kinds of sheep produced different wools: the leicestershire (lancashire?) blue's wool was gorgeous - silky and fine, but another sheep's was like stiff cotton balls.

Having eaten and drunk our fill - my favourite beer was a Belgian-style wheat beer called 'Val de Plas' from Wharfedale breweries - we made our way home. I should say, getting out and back required a train and two different buses. Considering there were eight of us trying to stick together, it could have been (should have been!) disasterous. Unbelievably - and I will tell this story when I hear of nightmare journeys involving only one train! - our connections were not only on time, they were perfectly timed. The longest we waited was about 15 minutes in Leyburn on the way home. The sun even came out in the afternoon and the wind softened.

Nas gave me an early birthday present - a new camera (okay, it's for both of us!) that he found for a great deal at a second-hand shop because it's missing the manual and packaging. This is a long way of saying...I didn't take many pictures... But next weekend is birthday-palooza in the park for five (5!) of us born in May. I promise to faithfully record the event - I may even buy a new frock for the occassion as it is supposed to be slightly-formal wear (we're going to play garden games and eat canapes).

So a good weekend had by all. And now back to work. We went for a good run this morning - I was so stiff! Shin splints seem to be getting better - they only really bother me starting out now. I have to write a paper this week as I've been invited to give one at the York post-grad seminar next Tuesday. 'Write' is misleading - I'll be ripping the guts out of one of my chapters and tweaking it to sound like a paper rather than a chapter!

week's end

ugh. What a week. I have been sternly told by my grandmother that I take on too much. She's likely right. It's just that most of the time, I feel like I'm not doing enough: enough research, enough paid work, enough exercise... This week I think I topped my record: Monday-Wednesday I was in my office by 9.30, wrote (or tried to write - another problem) until 12.30, had lunch, worked at the library until 5pm, went back to office and wrote (tried to) until anywhere between 7.30 and 9.30...went home. I also ran Tuesday and Wednesday at 7.15 - and they were really really great runs. I probably should've kept the running up but yesterday I had to teach all day starting at 10 so I postponed the run til today. Yet, as you see, gentle reader, it is 'today' and I am typing, not running. The spirit was very willing - the flesh is tired.

This week, I was supposed to hand in the second half of my introduction. It's not in. I have a fairly unproductive way of dealing with this - I wind myself up, convinced that my supervisor is going to tear me open to find the writing, become irritable, snappy, and tired, - none of which makes writing much easier. As I've said before, I've got no reason to believe that my supervisor will treat me thus - she never has been anything but supportive and encouraging. But in that state of mind, everything becomes an issue - this morning when I woke up feeling awful, I immediately felt guilty for feeling unable to run. Upon calm reflection, I do see how this pattern is silly - but I haven't yet figured out a way out of it in the moment.

Anyway, just sitting here, I'm feeling better (and supervisor emailed today to say not to worry - I'd emailed her on Wednesday panicking about my writing...). I have my last consultation hour of the year - possibly my last before finishing my PhD! - and then the meeting this afternoon. Our friend is visiting from London this weekend and we're heading out to the Dales to go to a food and drink festival - hopefully the weather co-operates. Every morning has felt like November and every afternoon like June. I got a sunburn from teaching outside...

a taste of my youth

My friend Betsy and I went to the playground today for a little shoot-around. Basketball isn't really my favourite sport (I just don't have the knack of it), and I can't talk her out to the tennis courts - so we went to where the hoops are.

Last time we went out there, we played a two-on-two with a couple of fellows (we'll call them Jim and Jam). It was a good, intense, and equal match. They were out again today, and we started a game.

And then, five fifteen year old schoolboys of Indo-Pakistani descent asked us in broad Yorkshire accents if we wanted to play full-court with them.

Betsy beckoned to me. "This is getting out of control, Nas."

I agreed. I was really out there for the company and I'm crap at team sports, but by this point the loudest (and least athletic) of the kids was already dividing us into teams. "What the hell Betsy," I said, stretching my thirty-four year old quadriceps, "let's give them a run for their money."

"They probably have more money than we do," Betsy shot back.

Before things got rolling there was the requisite round of trash-talk. The Loudmouth kid was
being, well, loud. I noticed he was wearing jeans and started calling him Levi Strauss (after the denim company, of course - not the famous structuralist anthropologist, Claude Levi-Strauss - although I don't imaine the kids were confused). Somehow, I also dubbed another of the kids "Tyra" (after the fashion model Tyra Banks...he took it really well, though!)

We split into teams and on our first possession when I brought the ball up into their court and an overly eager defender broke my glasses. Nothing takes the fun out of an early evening game than that. And in that moment, I was reminded of an old truth:

No matter how old you get, if you're standing on tarmac with a slightly bent nose and a broken pair of glasses in your hand while a friend puts a hand on your shoulder, asking "Are you all right?" - you're seven years old. It's an involuntary reaction that feels disturbingly like "My mom is gonna KILL me when I get home."

(But I think I've grown a little since then. I went home and got my 'nerd' frames and played out the rest of the game - which is an improvement over staying home and weeping into a bowl of fruit cocktail while getting yelled at for being careless...)

nasser 1, racists 0

Today was an excellent day. Kaley and I went to a place called the Yorkshire Sculpture Park (YSP) on a whim. The sun shone, and the train lazily rolled into Wakefield. We hopped on a bus and walked for half a mile through a neighbourhood populated by almost as many cows as people. Nestled in the midst of this lies scenery is the YSP - a couple of square miles of groomed parkland, dotted with artworks of varying degrees of grandeur and oddity.

I wanted to go to see the Andrew Goldworthy stuff. I had seen a photo of one of the pieces in a newspaper article, but the actual thing (it's called the 'leaf room') utterly astonished me. The other rooms (clay, wood, and stone) were equally breathtaking, each for their own reasons.

(It actually lies beyond my power to describe these installations, or how moving they are. I'd been lucky enough to see some other examples of his work in the National Scottish museum, so I knew I liked his work before I got there. The difference now? I LOVE him. And it's not so much about the works themselves - it's more a sense of how I want to conduct my life. I want to connect to things (real things) with the kind of directness that Goldsworthy accomplished and communicates with his work. Okay, now I'm gushing. Go find his work and see it live, whenever possible. You won't be disappointed.)

We made our way home a bit grudgingly, because Kaley had to work at 5:00pm at the local library. On my solitary trip home, with Kaley safely at work, I noticed a woman (we'll call her the Drunk Old Loud Lady, or DOLL for short) one seat ahead and across from me leaning into the couple sat in front of her, poking the young woman sitting there.

'That's odd," I thought, as the DOLL audibly said something about how everyone hates Chinese people (the DOLL's victim was of visible Asian descent). The elderly African gentleman sitting directly behind the DOLL and across from me reached out and tapped the DOLL on the shoulder in an effort to stop her from harassing the young woman.

"Paki!" the DOLL yelled at the man. "Don't touch me!"

(This is where I felt I had to step in.)

"Actually, I'M the Paki in this situation," I told the DOLL. I don't think she really got the joke, though. I then politely informed her that I was going to tell the driver to escort her from the bus. She dared me to try, and having nothing to lose, I stepped to the front of the bus and told the driver (who was very understanding) about the situation. When I turned to return to my seat, I saw the African gentleman being very un-gentlemanly. He had his hand around the DOLL's throat, and was forcing her back into her seat. I stepped in between them, and order was temporarily restored.

Of course, it WAS just after 5:00, and the bus is moving very slowly (the driver could only eject her at the next stop, and no earlier). Which gave the DOLL time to regroup, and begin yelling more racist obscenities. And the odd thing was, no one did anything. They were waiting for the driver to call in the cops. So I stood up again and said to the DOLL, "Let's just go now. You and me. Let's get off." And somewhat to my surprise, she agreed.

Of course, as soon as she got off, I hopped back on and signaled to the driver to shut the doors.

But not before she yelled "Paki!" one last time as we pulled away.

Turning back into the bus to regain my seat, I was greeted with applause. I raised my hands and let out a whoop.

Score one for the good guys.

(but i suppose she's still out there. which makes me a little sad.)

decided

So I went to the garden - it hasn't rained yet anyway. On the way home, I stopped at the co-op for some Cheerios. I know, I know: they're made by Nestle. Though apparently Nestle has been making large steps towards ethical production. I'm just making myself feel better here...

Leftover stew and yorkshire puds for dinner...comfort food of the highest order.

whether weather

ARGH!! I can't tell weather it's going to rain or not...which means I'm hopping back and forth trying to decide whether to go up to the garden to water everything or wait and see if it rains. If it doesn't rain, I'll have to go up; if it does rain and I have gone up, all my little seeds will be floating! It's been like this for a couple days now: overcast and oppressive, sprinkling every so often but holding back on the downpour that's surely coming. This has been a really dry April.

Well...I suppose I'll wait an hour and see...

starting weak

Do I ever love 'Left and Leaving' by The Weakerthans... It makes me happy no matter when or where I here it. Even though, I suppose, it's nominally a sad song. Or at least a song for reflecting on.

Run today was slow and hard - the weather's gone all funny: humid but not hot. Even by 7.30 the air was unduly heavy. It brings on my asthma - which was bothering me last night - I'm a bloody barometer in this kind of beastly British weather. But we ran nonetheless and that's the thing.

And on Saturday we were up at the garden for nearly four hours. Nas dug three new beds - very impressive. Cath and I dug up and fertilized the other beds and planted onions, garlic, salad leaves, and peas. I know - I don't have any pictures yet - I will put some up soon.

We've been listening to the BBC 24 news channel as part of our mornings lately. It's interesting - usually we become irate at some example of stupidity or ignorance and have to thrash it out before going to work. Today, there was a story about the dramatic increase in unwanted animals - an issue close to my heart. It angered me because the reason for the increase was the number of people simply dumping pets that they no longer wanted to care for. See - I'm getting insensed again. What is it with this culture of not-me? I am so thoroughly sick of people not being at fault. There is no beginning or end to this phenomenon - I see it everywhere. Pedagogy that suggests that there is no 'failure' - there are no 'bad students'. Health stories that blame fat on genes, addiction on upbringing, criminality on lack of caring. When, exactly, do people have to suck it up? Surely we are still striving to teach children that responsibility cannot simply be given up when it becomes inconvenient? Of course, they see exactly this abdication of responsibility and care around them everyday at the highest levels. See - this is the thing - animals and children will always be the first victims of negligence and cruel carelessness - but this is becoming endemic. And I have to level it at bullshit humanistic individualist crap - "I deserve" and "I want" seem to be valid reasons for just about anything. Because if we only 'want' something, we have no real responsibility for it - it's reason for being is only to serve us. When we no longer 'want' it, we can be rid of it. If our 'wants' create things - they are things that fall under our dominion and power - regardless of its autonomy or existence (a kitten, a child), our 'want' has created it...ARGH! I'm not getting this out right.

I know this isn't new - my rage and frustration, I mean. Though likely the apathy that instigates it isn't new either. But why is it okay for some people to wash their hands of responsibility? Why is that okay? Why do they get to be empowered by the act of negating responsibility? I get it - it's heroic for someone to recognize their limits. That's just not bloody good enough. Recognize your limits and then surpass them. It was Pilate that washed his hands.

See! My frustration has driven me to a bible allusion!!

Ooh...that reminds me (in a typical ADHD move) - I have a new book - it's the book too. And it was free - bless those clerical errors at big companies. There is an online King James version but I have to read so much online - it's nice to have the whole thing in easily-referenced print. And, for some reason, I've always felt strange borrowing one from the library. I'm not sure why. I guess I still feel like I should have one... Now I do.

Going solo

Ugh...I don't like running by myself. I'm not sure why - I mean, we don't really chat with each other when we run as a group: grunt and point more like! I think it's just the knowledge that other people are out there with you. I think the yucky run I just completed may also have been influenced by running in the afternoon - I really should stick to morning runs. Which I plan to do from now on. But...I did it! 20 minutes by myself. I managed to run too fast to begin with - sprinted up the stairs at the beginning of my route. Why? Cause I thought it looked cooler... yes, I'm a loser like that. The weather has been lovely - more June than April - so morning runs should be perfect. Hopefully, June won't be more like April...

I had a most unproductive day in the library. Some days everything is on - others... I just sat and stared at my books. I think running in the morning is better for getting the brain-juices flowing as well.

And my seeds came in the mail! Both Nas and I have this weekend off work at the uni libraries so we're going to go a-planting. And digging. I think I killed my heather - which is some kind of accomplishment given how hardy the stuff is. Alas. But I replanted it so maybe it'll come back? My gardening know-how hasn't really improved in two years of having this garden - I still think any food we get is mostly due to the plant's will to survive rather than anything I do!

I've nothing to say about Virginia - nothing can be said. I am shocked and angry at the unwillingness to even broach the subject of gun control from both the BBC and CNN - the desperate manoeuvers to pin blame somewhere are almost comical, if the situation weren't so tragic. I can only wish solace and comfort for the families and friends affected by this.

saturday girl

I'm working in the local studies library in the city today. I love working here. And we've just swapped sides (of the building) with the Business and Research library. Now we have the gorgeous, cathedral ceiling with carved butresses and wooden arches. They are in the process of recovering a Victorian tiled hall downstairs - it looks absolutely beautiful. I'm having an extended go at the city council right now as I believe that they are more focused on tourists and visitors to the city than the people that live here. But this tiled hall and the renovation of the art gallery next door is a point in their favour. That reminds me - local elections are next month...

Things I'm looking for in a candidate:

* committment to my area - which I love for its informality, parks, and multicultural environment
* committment to environmental issues with a real and viable plan to improve recycling and rubbish disposal in our area - as well as working with other reps to improve the city's environmental record generally
* awareness of the often-strained town/gown relations in areas immediately surrounding us - this is a tough one. I really object to the city awarding permission for immense blocks of flats in very desirable locations for students only. We're fairly lucky since where we live is only just starting to be colonized by students. It's not the students I have an issue with, btw, its the landlords - or accurately: land-barons.
* continued support for area improvements. They are finally doing work on the mosque at the end of our road. It's a strange building but I think it will be much more open and inviting when the new landscaping blooms. The parks have been redone pretty recently as well - yea!
* (a real plus - I'd campaign for this person) dedication to and a solid plan for reducing speed in our neighbourhood. There are a lot of children around us - something that I've had to get used to - and no one in the area has a private garden. The only place they have to go is the park down the road or over the tracks. Traffic around us is insane. People rip down the roads with absolutely no regard for anything. It's one of the few things that I can honestly say puts hate in my heart. Actually, that's putting it strongly. But I do intensely dislike them and wish I could wage some kind of masked-vigilante justice on them.

I took my tea-break outside cause the weather is just that nice and was watching some lovely young lads throw themselves about the stairs and railings. I'm not sure what exactly the aim is but they were having a great time doing it. It's not quite parcour - something between that and acrobatics. Anyway, they got chased away by a security guy. I thought that was unfair as they were having fun - they weren't yelling or being rude; they moved politely aside whenever anyone walked by or needed the stairs; they weren't smoking, drinking, or hanging around looking miserable (the preferred pasttime of Leeds youth). And it was rather a good show. I suppose the city would be worried about lawsuits in the case of an accident...? Litigious society...another pet peeve!

But the biggest beef I have today is with the media. Kate and Wills have split. If you haven't heard, wherever you are reading, now you know. I hope it doesn't affect your day as it apparently should be affecting mine. They actually had a commentator on the BBC news this morning! It was the most unbelievably ridiculous 'story' I've ever heard. The commentary was also incredibly insulting to Ms Middleton: she was accused, essentially, of being a nag and not understanding the immense pressure that the future king is under. She was 'neglected' in London while he pursues the traditional and oh-so-useful military career in Dorset. Apparently, his last gaff - something about army buddies, ladies, and media attention, should have been excused by Ms Middleton because that's just what army lads do... charming. The extent of crap attached to that sentiment is greater than the entire 'net can hold. Not once did mr I-actually-get-paid-for-this-spew mention that, though he insisted that the break-up was mutual and amicable - it could have been Ms Middleton's idea. My my, who would dump an embryonic king? Impossible! you say? Ha! I still appreciate the woman for flooring an interviewer who asked her if she thought she was lucky (to be sleeping with the heir-apparent) - she responded with arch disbelief at the question: 'I think he's the lucky one' (or something similar - no, I'm not going to provide a reference - deal).

Either way - why in the name of all that is good do we care about a family whose very existence is proof of the continuing weakness for outmoded and outdated traditions based on birth over merit? Well. That's out of my system.

Auspicious days

Hey! It's Friday the 13th! I hope the weather in Dover is co-operating...! Happy Friday 13th!

Silly bird

Pigeons is dumb birds. I just sat outside with a friend and had a coffee in the early afternoon sunshine and watched a pigeon try to eat an entire crust in one go. Poor thing! The bread got stuck in his beak. I probably looked a fool trying to catch it - yes, I know pigeons are disease carrying vermin but the thing was really getting quite frantic and people around were watching and laughing. At long last, without my help, pigeon managed to cough up the offending piece of lunch and fly off - rather embarassed no doubt.

I'm marking in my office - the last batch of essays for the term. My meeting with my supervisor is in a couple hours and I can never get any research/writing done before such meetings. I've no reason to think that she is going to eviscerate me - but healthy paranoia has kept me going thus far.

And we're planting potatoes and onions this afternoon! My seeds still haven't arrived, alas. I think we're over the threat of frost here - but I never can tell. Potatoes are buried so deep that it shouldn't bother them too much anyway.

Next week, back to class - I really enjoy my seminars this term. My kids are sharp and interested, which makes all the difference in the world. And we're finally getting to Burney's Evelina, which I love teaching. ah...just remembered why I came to campus - I have to report on last semesters student-feedback forms... back to the dungeon.

Keswick is heaven - and other unrhymed revelations

Our kettle broke this morning - the bit attached to the lid came off. So we took the opportunity presented to go into the city and buy a new kettle. As we'd spent £8 on the kettle about three years ago, we weren't too upset. Indeed, originally we thought Ha ha! a perfect excuse to hie us down to the fancy kitchen-gear store and get a company-worthy kettle. Silly us. Such kettles - all bright and shiny with space-age design - run to about £40-50 on sale. Suitably chastened, we went to good ol' Wilko's and found a perfectly useable kettle for £10.

On the way, we also found a sweet bargain at a kitchen store that is going out of business. Denby plateware 50% off! So we are 2 lovely cereal bowls and 2 pasta bowls nearer having decent plates. Which is a silly and frivolous thing, I know. But it made us very happy. And our cheap piece of salmon tasted nicer on such lovely plates. Last time my mum was here, she offered to buy us a set of good plates. I refused on the grounds that our odds and bobs would last til we could buy our own. One of the bowls I was basing that on now has mold under the enamelling... I know mold can grow anywhere in this country, but...!

Lastly, but not leastly, we spent the Easter weekend with friends in the Lake District - a much-needed and absolutely wonderful break from the city and research. Our friends were perfect hosts: they gave us a ride up and back, fed us to bursting point, took us round Keswick, walked up hills that must have been mere strolls for them and generally made us feel at home in P--'s lovely family cottage. Our bedroom was at the back of the cottage and every morning we could wake up to this view:














A quick digression...on the way up to Keswick, we stopped for lunch at Aysgarth Falls in the Dales National Park. It really is stunning - and where one of the fight sequences in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves was filmed. That didn't stop us enjoying the scenery. Here is Nasser smiling up at me from the banks of the river just below the upper falls.

Our friend prepared not one but three egg hunts on Easter Sunday - something completely unanticipated and unbelievably sweet. And it made me very homesick and rather nostalgic: when I was a kid, my grandparents' house was beside an empty lot that was left untouched for years. It was 'the forest' and I spent hours playing in it. Every Easter, when the weather was nice, papa would hide eggs in the forest, under the carpet of pine needles, and I'd scrabble around finding them with my sister and brother. This year, when Nas and I woke up, we found a two trails of eggs leading from our bedroom door - one for each of us! - and out into the garden. In the afternoon, there was a string maze and in the evening an honest-to-goodness egg hunt with clues all over the cottage. Above and beyond the call of duty! And left us both with the most stunning chocolate hangovers ever. This was the haul from the first egg hunt...









Sunday, we climbed up Cat Bells - a hill we could see from the back garden. The weather was perfect - sunshiny and golden with enough of a breeze to keep us well on our toes at the top! The view was amazing - the Lakes is so incredibly stunning. I can see why Wordsworth loved it so - I still can't understand how, in such a beautiful location, he still wrote such awful stuff. The clouds are never lonely up there there's never only one.







On Monday, we dyed our Easter eggs - our good friend was kind enough to send with us some dyes from Bulgaria. They made bew-tee-fool eggs which we took out into the fog and clouds of Lattrig and sent rolling down the fells. I can't remember which one won - though my friend and I discovered that unpeeled, hard-boiled eggs are bouncier...








Apparently, Lattrig is the traditional site of egg-rolling in Keswick. We were the only ones up there that day - the weather being unsuitable for much other than chasing sheep and imagining how great the view would be without the fog.







So that was our weekend. If we could've, we'd never have come home. But no - it's nice to be back with Logan and Laila and our books and on our street. We have a new neighbour who has a lovely puppy. The weather is getting warmer - we're planting our potatoes on Friday. We're already planning on going back to the Lakes though...

fresh starts and a solid finish

Two excellent runs this week! Finally convinced that I can, in fact, run longer and harder than I thought (all cred has to go to nas for that). We've found a new loop with hills and flats that's really quite good and very challenging for me after the flatness of the tow-path.

I really should be starting to write right now but thought I'd take a moment to do this first! I've got a fairly sizeable section of my introduction to hand in - and a new section for chapter 2. Hopefully, my wonderful supervisor will be satisfied with my progress in this last, gruelling 6 months! I've decided not to apply to the post here because my CV just isn't up to scratch. Instead I'm going to spend some time polishing up articles and get those out - buff up the CV and start from a position of confidence. I sent off a proposal to a collection at the end of March and have heard back from the editors - but only that it'll be June before they let me know! Oh well. I've plenty to occupy me until then.

We're off to the Lake District tomorrow for the Easter weekend. Luckily for us, our generous friend has offered his cottage and is driving up from Cambridge. The weather has just turned into early-summer so with luck that will hold through the weekend. Though I've always thought that Good Friday should be slightly overcast - more respectfully suitable. Similarly, I've always thought 'happy easter' sounded a bit odd. Catholic school hangovers I suppose. But then, what else could you say? 'Have a contemplative easter'? A 'thoughtful easter'?

I thing I'll listen to Jessye Norman this afternoon - I have a collections of spirituals sung by her and they are simply beautiful. For the season, I shall listen to 'Were you there?'. I love that song. It's ridiculously slow to sing with a congregation but breathtaking from a great soloist.

I will miss Easter at home. It always signalled the real start of spring. I did get some easter chocolate - thanks Gran! but ate it before I could photograph the evidence...very tasty. Gotta say, Cadbury's cream eggs are much better over here!

thots on running

Why isn't progress a one-way street? Today my run was terrible - I couldn't find my rhythm, couldn't catch my breath, felt generally saggy and baggy - could feel every uneven surface from my soles through my feet knees hips and back. Nasser assures me that he feels the same - he's so good when I morph into a two-year-old in the middle or at the end of a run. I know I'm awful - I don't deserve such a great coach most days. I'd give up on me. In fact, that's likely part of the problem, I do give up on me too quickly.

Some days, I can run forever - like I used to run when I was little at school or just round the house playing by myself or tag with everyone. I used to love the 100m dash at our 'track and field' days. I hated the field part of the day - first off, they never let us to the fun stuff that I wanted to do from reading too many children's versions of Greek mythology: javelin, discus...for some reason, they did let us attempt the shot-put. I suppose a 11-year old isn't going to be able to throw that very hard. Surely though some major shoulder and back trauma could've happened?? Anyway all I liked was the 100m.

It was a solo sport - which was important as a shy, coltish kid - and the build-up, even in elementary school, was huge. There was always a crowd for the 100m. People knew who'd won the previous year; whether people were record contenders (ridiculous in elementary school!). Why is the 100m the crowning achievement? It's just fast. Now the 400m - that's a challenge. Fast and long. But I digress. I loved the 100m because I got anxious and when I got anxious my shoulders tense up, my chest constricts, my breath feels tight - nothing unique in this I know; in fact, it's kinda text-book anxiety. But to me, it feels as though every bit of energy in my body is bound in my ribcage and that if I don't let it out, I'll explode. Sometimes, even now, I have to go away from people and shake it out, or jump a bit, or hold my breath til the energy explodes behind my eyes in little fireworks. But in the 100m, I just let it burst through the starting line and running felt like dying. And dying was flying.

I didn't set any records - I don't even think I won. But I liked it.

I do love running but when it's a bad run - it's just awful. I'm likely just transferring stress from everything else - especially my research - and compounding it rather than letting the run pound it out.