What started off as a description of my weekend and became this...

Just back from another London-break - had a blast as usual. This time, more friends from Canada were over, crossing paths on their various travels. Though I left my jogging gear at home, I don't feel too bad about it as we must've walked for at least 5 hours each day. Our wonderful and generous friend living in London was her wonderful and generous self - putting up with four different house-guests (two of them family!) in two schedules...

On Sunday we got slightly lost around the East End but eventually found our way back to something recognisable - in this case the Square Mile. Monday, my friend and I played at being wealthy and walked through Knightbridge - had gelato at Harrods and lunch in Kensington Gardens. Harrods was fun - in that kind of peering into another world kind of fun - the world of £110/kg morrels and Bvlgari watches... I even secretly kept an eye out for celebrities... (didn't see anyone but in truth, I'm bad with faces...).

Two of our friends were on their way to Poland - which is my introduction to why we went to the Imperial War Museum. The Holocaust exhibit seemed like an appropriate testing ground for her reaction to Auschwitz - though I suppose no safe and sterile exhibit, regardless of how well done, could match seeing the actual place. Nonetheless, it was a very moving experience - okay, I was glad of the low lighting - though mine weren't the only strategic coughs and throat clearings. It's always funny to walk out of exhibits like that back into the rest of the museum with its bright lights, white walls, and helpful employees. Particularly jarring I think when the first thing you are confronted with is more guns, tanks, fighter planes, and replica missiles. But of course, these are the weapons of the good guys...

It was interesting (maybe only to me) - one of the quotes evocatively displayed in the Holocaust exhibit was 'all it takes for evil to flourish is for good men to do nothing'. I hate that quotation. I really really do. To paraphrase Pilate, what is 'good'? Who are these good men? What is the 'evil' they will protect me from? Of course, we're expected to digest these 'wise sayings' like pablum - the good men are good and they are so because they are good; evil, concomitantly, is evil and it is so because it is evil. The problem as I see it - and I also recognize the problematically reductive potential of this argument - is that 'evil' and 'good' are just words we use to make monsters and heroes. Quite frankly, anyone convinced of their own righteousness and the manifest destiny of that righteousness is someone to run from - quickly. Though I suppose my problem is that such comments are generally deployed in the service of some 'common good'. Which isn't to say that I'm advocating that we all sit down and let evil get on with it over my particular semantic tics. It's just frustrating: these wise old sayings that we parrot at each other as though they have any meaning - any applicability; as though we can see evil and know it as always that which is not us.

Ooh I can hear it...'come on, everyone knows what it means...yer over-analysing again'- but does everyone know? Really? Cause come on, evil doesn't start off all blustery and scary, red smoke and heat, horns an' all - good doesn't pop out of the egg all shiny and strong. It just too binary - too simple.

Although, thinking about it - I kinda like it as it was used in that particular exhibit. Because I think it was accusatory - challenging - Not the smug and always already remorseful, exculpatory declaration of some politician or prelate - something more desperate and powerful: not 'all it takes blah blah blah' but 'good men did nothing and evil flourished here and here and here'. Which is, I think, more accurate because it is specific - no one can combat EVIL on some abstract plane. Looking at those awful pictures, I didn't see EVIL - just people. If we're all waiting for EVIL to announce itself, we're not going to get far as 'good men'. It's also interestingly provocative in that particular situation because the viewer there in that museum is always 'good' - this is how people think of themselves, right? Or at least, this is how we're supposed to think of ourselves - we're basically good. Maybe not great - not saints, but really deep down, we're alright. But to be confronted with that familiar quotation in that place - in a dark room surrounded by those particularly present images of suffering that cannot be comforted - suddenly that darkness and murkiness seep into things - between words and intentions. To be a viewer on this particular history, to be outside, confronted with things that cannot be changed - that have not changed (Stalin in Russia, Khmer Rouge in Cambodia, Rwanda...) - is always to wonder what would I have done? and never be satisfied.

***

I fear than I'm falling into soapboxing on this blog...

It was so great to see my family friends - though I find it funny sometimes how conflicted I get about my role with them. I've known them both since they were born and now they are beautiful, kind, generous, and intelligent young women - and I sometimes get stuck acting like a 'big sister' of the most annoying sort when all I really want to do is be their friend. This is why I generally think myself unfit for motherhood - I'm a bit of a control freak. I'm terrified of something hurting the people I love - when my brother came to visit and went to Whitby by himself for a night, I spent a good deal of time worrying - not about his physical safety but his psychological safety: what if someone was rude to him? What if they hurt his feelings? What if he felt alone or scared or upset? Keeping in mind my brother was 23, over 6 feet, and more travelled than I am... But there it is. Sometimes I just feel too big - like I'm taking up too much space, being too agressive, too prescriptive - all the things I hate when I see them in other people.

Huh.

I need to change that.

And all that was to say - I had a great weekend in London. And I want to say thank you to Marina and Micaela and Jim - I am rested and well-fed - spiritually and physically. And it's nice to have friends who love me anyway... cause I'm alright really!

We are a police state

I've always thought there was something rather pretentious in the title of Paul Langford's A Polite and Commercial People. It seems to conjure that sepia-tinted image of the upstanding middle-class entrepreneur, gruff, apologetic, full of integrity, and always slightly embarassed. Polite commerciality...harumph, as my friend would say (expostulate? well, visualise in writing anyway). Is there such a thing?

This week will see another clash between the police and environmental activists: it's the second Camp for Climate Action. It's becoming, increasingly, a question of when not if something will happen: all sides holding their breath for the next clash, all media posed for the next martyr.

All of my sympathies are with Climate Action and the protestors. British police have been given permission to use 'terror laws' to "deal robustly" with any 'threat' to Heathrow. This includes indiscriminate use of 'stop and search', holding suspects without charge, searching people's homes... Why? And this I love: 'confrontations threaten to bring major delays to the already overstretched airport'. (Guardian, Saturday 11 August)

That. Is. Disgusting. An airport is not a cause.

(Also disgusting me right now is the rude little scally I'm having to deal with at the library. My mother-in-law wants us to have children - if I could bottle this one just to show anyone who asks me That Question again, I would. But I digress...)

We need, and I speak socially and politically, to redress this bifucation between protestors and protectors. I'm swayed by Curtis White's latest essay in Harper's Magazine: 'The Idols of Environmentalism'. Not entirely pursuaded, mind you, but convinced that he is right in essence. We need to replace the language of confrontation, of war, of terrorism with what he calls a 'language of care'. To do this is to begin to heal the rift not between multinational CEO and frontline activist - both of whom are little more than cartoon figures (Curis White) - but between protestor and protector. Not to do this - to fear the enemies and impossibilities we construct out of language, the monsters we create in order to have something to flee - is to risk falling irretrievably into the chasms of 'us' and 'them'.

And if this is a warning - I've no intention of turning prophet - then it is most clearly to the government that dares to separate itself from the people. Continuing to turn us into them -they will have something to fear. And this is not to invoke the WWII piece - moving though it is - I do not mean that 'we' (who? We who care.) should stand up now for fear that 'when they come for us, there will be no one left' but to turn that address around: one day, we will come calling for the government - we will demand accountability, responsibility, our rights - and there will be no one to stop us.

blue skies

Just for the record: it's been absolutely gorgeous outside for a whole week. The garden actually needed watering - for the first time in nearly two months. I needed my sunglasses yesterday cause my eyes hurt from the glare of the sunshine off of the pavement.

I love the British summer - it's so rare that I feel I must appreciate it fully while it lasts.

Justifying my collection of cookbooks

Now I am just procrastinating. It's a lovely day outside, the house is clean, dishes done, laundry laundering... I've managed to read the first chapter in the new book by my external examiner. I'm debating going up to the Bollywood film in an hour.

And as always happens when I'm looking for distraction, I've started pulling down my cookbooks and feasting on imaginary dinners. I'm quite as good as Peter Pan at eating pretend food. And I'm quite happy with my collection these days. While I am still seduced by the gastro-porn style of food writing - more pictures than text - I'm more and more attracted to good writing. Our last purchase - a lucky find in the Oxfam shop in the city - was Anthony Bourdain's Les Halles Cookbook. For the record, and because I'm curious, the entire collection is as follows:

How to Eat - Nigella Lawson
Larousse Gastronomique
The Kitchen Diaries - Nigel Slater
New Food Fast - Donna Hay
The New Cook - Donna Hay
German Cooking Today - Dr. Oetker
The Family Cookbook - Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall
The Silver Spoon
The River Cottage Year - Hugh Fearnley - Whittingstall
Cooking from an Italian Garden
The Vegetarian Chef
Lighten Up
Best Recipes: German Cooking and Baking - Dr. Oetker
Soup - Sandler and Acton
Curries and Indian Foods - Linda Fraser
Fondue - Loraine Turner
various old Canadian Living magazines
my ratty old spiral notebook with recipes from various people and sources

Huh. Written out like that, I do have rather a lot of cookbooks. I think I left some in Canada as well. I think I likely read them more than actually use them on any kind of daily basis - which isn't to say that I never use them. Lawson and Slater I just enjoy reading - hell, I've taken both to bed with me in the hopes of inspiring some flights of dreamy gastronomy. My collection does run the gamut from straightforward food preparation (German Cooking Today and The Silver Spoon tie for the most stripped down writing) to philosophical treatises on eating ethically (Slater) or the wickedly onanistic pleasures of cooking for one's self (Lawson).

Is feeding the body feeding the soul? I have no idea. But I love food - I love preparing it, I love feeding people (a genetic predisposition - thanks gran!), and I love eating. But not just the mechanics of eating, the whole socio-cultural ritual of the thing. On my own, food simply doesn't taste quite as good or as satisfying than when taken in good company. I'm fascinated by table manners, by eating disorders, by images of consumption and expulsion - maybe it's a Catholic thing? How we devour our world, are devoured by our world - by each other. We are fed with ideas, eat up words, get 'fed up', are glutted by consumer culture, digest bad news, sink our teeth into new things, worry at something 'like a dog with a bone', lap up information... We are part of a body - we're taught in Catholic school that God has laid a feast for us - we obsess about the Last Supper - we play games of describing our perfect 'last meal'. Food is desire; it signals belonging and strangeness, continuity and change. It is, in the end, all that we are.

Chew on that.

Pride

There are few things more annoying (or embarassing) than switching handbags, leaving the house, getting to a destination, and realising that the handbag smells of cat pee.

So I emptied it, distributed my belongings amongst friends, and threw out the bag. Which was a shame - it served me well. Luckily, it was an older bag that I mostly use for travelling and such. Nonetheless, a practical, versatile purse - ah, Roots bag, you will be missed...

Last night me and my friend saw Grow Your Own - it's set on allotments. It's completely PG and so uplifting that I think I floated to the pub on a cloud of general well-being and satisfaction with humanity in general (or at least, that part of humanity that recognises the awesome personal and community healing power of allotments). Then another group of us went into the city to celebrate Leeds Pride 2007. That morning, Nas and I had caught the parade as we came home from the the farmers' market. A friend's band played the main event at a bar down by the river. I always forget how lovely Leeds can be down there. Anyway, the band was great - our friend rocked out on the keyboard and played some mighty mighty power chords. We danced, and swayed, and cheered, and a generally, again, felt pretty at home and at peace with the world.

The more I think about it, the more I realise what a great weekend it was. On Saturday night, we went into Ilkley to celebrate a birthday - with much pizza, wine, good beer and better conversation (and we didn't manage to empty the restaurant like last time!). Sunday morning we went for a long run with the Fleet, followed by the farmers' market, then the movie, then the band. Tonight, we're going to watch some Bollywood - cheaper and likely healthier than a beer at the end of the day! We are so unbelievably fortunate to be part of this brilliant, creative, generous group of friends. I suppose everyone thinks their gang is the coolest - but really, ours is. And damn, we're a sexy bunch too.

Play

My supervisor has just returned my fourth chapter - saying that is is absolutely fine and that the argument is logically and clearly presented! I didn't realise how hard I had worked on it until I heard that. For 7 of my 11 years in HE, I worked very little. I'll admit it - I've got skills and a head for literature. But I never worked like I have for this thesis. Funnily enough, I've never enjoyed studies more. A line from Donna Tartt's The Secret History always comes back to me when I'm feeling most optimistic and fortunate about my chosen career. Asked by the erstwhile narrator how much work he requires, the slightly creepy, very eccentric professor explains that he doesn't consider what he does as 'work': it is 'the most glorious kind of play'. Today, I agree.

Listening to: The Goldberg Variations by J.S. Bach, played by Glenn Gould

No matter how many times I hear this recording, I am struck every single time by the sheer brilliance of Gould. And I my very favourite part is listening to him hum and sing along to his own playing. It feels like such a very embodied performance, perhaps because I can hear his voice rather than the disembodied playing of a 'perfect' recording. Of course, now, it's a disembodied voice. Which begs the question, can the body be captured? Does it last? Is there part of Gould preserved in this recording? The music implies his hands; his voice implies much more.

And now I am thinking of my very favourite ever writing by Mary Wollstonecraft, from Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Denmark, and Norway: 'Life! What art thou? Where goes this breath? this I, so much alive? In what element will it mix, giving or receiving fresh energy? What will break the enchantment of animation?'

Luckily, I'm working on Wollstonecraft today, so I can just keep thinking about her...

Passports

So my passport will expire in January. According to travel regulations, this means that I cannot travel anywhere between now and then without a new passport. So really, a passport is valid for 4 1/2 years, not five. At any rate, this wasn't so much of a problem - the Canadian High Embassy here in the UK has a decent turn-around time; I've got all the forms and such...and then... the Guarantor problem hit me full on.

I have met wonderful people in Leeds - none of them, it transpires, are qualified to back up my claim that I am who I am. I'm down to spending £70 at the notary public's office or asking my dentist (who may try to charge me more...). Using the notary public would make that section of the form worth more than the entire passport. The cheek!

The sun has finally returned to this island - It's glorious outside. We helped a friend move house on Saturday and far from the rain we were dreading, it was actually hot and sunny. I drove for the first time in England as well! Only about 1/2 mile from the rental place to our friend's block of flats. It was exciting. And scary. And not necessarily something I'll try again in a hurry. I hadn't anticipated the difference of sitting on the other side of the vehicle in terms of having to negotiate the size and dimensions. It's one thing to work the stick with my left hand, to remember to look over my left shoulder to check behind - these things came pretty naturally. But having to remember that the bulk of the van was to my left...that was interesting. Luckily, another friend found the van much less intimidating than she imagined and so took over the driving responsibilities with native grace.

And as the sun is out - I'm off to the garden.

Filler

It's been a good while since I posted anything. I think spending all day in the library squeezing out writing puts a damper on doing more writing on my blog. Too much typing. And nothing very exciting has happened lately that I feel must be communicated.

Just writing writing and more writing - read, revise, read, revise... But it's coming together (I hope). I have a meeting with my supervisor on Monday - almost my last before handing in.

Other things that I have been up to:

- running up hills (much more difficult than running along the canal)
- contemplating working for a living
- contemplating how much council tax will take out of my paycheque come January
- trying to work out how to renew my passport and my visa in time for October
- hoping that the rain will ease off before everything in my garden rots on the vine
- reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

I realised (again) this morning how little I am aware of the world outside my library office. It's kind of ridiculous. I know I can read newspapers online but I miss the morning clutter of the breakfast table with tea, food, and newspapers.

It's very nearly August.

personal best

There are few better ways to start the day than breaking a personal record. Particularly if said day is looking rather dull in all other ways.

Yesterday it rained again from sun-up to sun-down - it would have been a most depressing day but for a trip to The Deep in Hull. We did mean to actually go into Hull as well - but it's rather depressing in the best of weather. Except for the whaling museum in the city centre (next time) which is pretty cool as they have whale skeletons and things like that. I can see why shrinks have fish tanks in their offices - it's very relaxing. But for the over-sugared, just-started-school-holidays, children, it would be very easy to sit by the tank and fall asleep.

***
Have just come home from a friend's house absolutely stuffed full of pizza and wine... The sun even came out for our gathering - so we immediately ran outside to take full advantage of the last precious hours of sunlight. Then we watched Doctor Who. Mmm...pizza. Nasser actually made pizza dough so's I could impress all my friends. What a guy.

Laila is having a mild freak-out session on the sofa. It's nice to be home.

Chapter 4

Have finally - and just at the end of the day - figured out a new way into my fourth chapter. As it is the chapter I submitted for my upgrade - all those years ago - it's absolutely crap as it stands. I didn't realise this until the last time I read it all the way through, or, yesterday. Wow it's some of the worst writing I've ever produced and I say that as an English student of some 10 years experience in writing crappy, last-minute essays. Thankfully, I still have time to make it better.

I'm grateful now that I finally read - and understood some of - Jacques Derrida. Something I never thought I'd say after spending a miserable half-term back in the fourth year of my undergrad degree trying, unsuccessfully, to get him through my head. I'd always say - and still will - that my weakness is critical theory. My strength is close reading; I can go on for pages with a close reading. Tying it firmly to theory...not so skilled. Unlike Nas, who has mad theory skillz.

The weather on our morning run was almost uncomfortably muggy. Even the usual denizens of the canal seemed rather out of sorts. We startled the heron (as usual) who flew sluggishly and peevishly to the opposite bank; the moorhens ran with less energy - everything seemed a bit dragged down - it felt like an oil painting that the artist, dissatisfied, had distractedly wiped with a cloth. I have got to work on my metaphors - I know this. Enjoy the rough rendering for now.

News unfit for print

In the news today - Bored Teenagers. Shockingly, someone has figured out that teenagers are bored. Yup. Apparently, the BBC has uncovered a critical mass of bored teenagers. This is new - this is newsworthy. Teenagers are bored; they can't think of anything to do. What do they want to do? In a streetside interview with a representative: 'I dunno'. Whose responsibility is it, according to the BBC, to provide something constantly exciting for these poor souls? Yes - the government's. We must launch a government initiative into solving the boredom of teenagers. Because teenage ennui leads to ... you guessed it: crime.

Yesterday, of course, 'crime' was caused by something entirely different - wait - say it with me - 'the breakdown of the family'. A conservative think-tank has pitched the idea of 'marriage tax breaks' as part of a huge 200+ idea package. Married couples would receive about £20 per week - provided that one of them gave up employment to stay home with the kids (who then, would not grow up to be criminals). BTW, that means that childcare - including education, feeding, 'parenting' - is worth £20/week. That amount would not pay for childminding services for half a day. AND considering the fact that women's wages still lag behind men's, which employed parent will be the one to give up their salary? What brings this on, you say? Political-moral panic over rising divorce rates - broken homes - single-parent families - bored children. Where is it going? Crime.

I will become incoherent and raving if I think on this too long - marriage does not a family make. Marriage does not ensure that children are healthy, well-educated, raised with confidence in themselves and their place in the world. Marriage is a half-hour exchange of words - a legal fiction of 'binding contract'. It is nothing - it is less than nothing. It means nothing outside of two people, the decisions they make to share their lives with each other, and the people whom they choose to include in their lives. Not getting married - like not having children - is not an avoidance of responsibility: it is a choice every bit as valid and rational.

Here's the thing - marriage is not a political issue. The government has no place in the bedrooms of the nation. Teenage boredom is not a political issue either.

So according to the BBC, we've got a nation of people who can't think of anything to do and can't stick with something when they've got it. And this, - not the failing health care system, not the state of schools, education, or unemployment, not the environment, not the war that we are losing, not racism, homophobia, sexism and every other prejudice that lives and breathes on our streets - THIS is worth time and consideration.

Meringues

I have spent the last week, on and off, trying to make meringues (as I mentioned, rather self-righteously, in a previous post). I went through half a dozen egg whites and most of my precious caster sugar in my attempts. For something 'dead easy', I made a mess of it twice. See I've got this nostalgia for meringues - when I was little, Nonna used to make these gorgeous meringue-and-chocolate cookies at Christmas. They were the culinary highlight (for me) in a sumptuous Christmas dinner. I remember the Christmas after she died they weren't there on the table and I missed them and I missed her.

Now I can make them myself - the trick is beating the egg whites and sugar far longer than I thought necessary.

I remember one summer when my friend was away, with her family, on a summer holiday. I'd gone up to their house to check on their cat, Gables, the mail, the house in general - as you do. I'd biked up the hill and it was a hot day - I was planning on biking back home straight away. But when I got there, Nonna was there, staying at their place while they were gone. I don't know how old I was - young, young enough to feel that I was doing something very responsible and grown up in checking on their house. Nonna had been a fixture of my life but I don't think we had ever talked, like two people, rather than grandmother and small child. She invited me in, had made lemonade or iced-tea, and we sat outside and talked. And she told me about moving to Canada, and her husband, and my friend's mum growing up; about music and food; and I talked about school and my bike, soccer, and my friend (her granddaughter). The sun was hot but we sat out on the stone patio under the shade from a big ol' maple tree that held up our treehouse. It's strange that I don't remember more, I suppose - just flashes that sometimes I think might be from a dream. But it's one of my favourite memories.

Time check

Something cataclysmic clearly happened at the library one day between 7.10 and 7.15 - all the clocks have stopped. Luckily my basement office has a window and I can chart the shadows on the wall opposite (when it is sunny). It's also possible I have been watching too many re-runs of The X-Files. Last night's episode found our hero doggedly trying to defend his theory of time travel in a suspicious murder case involving cyrogenics and spontaneous human combustion. A heady mix I'd say.

Time travel has to be one of the most difficult/cop-out writing techniques EVER. Terminator might be one example in which it actually works - though if I think too hard about that film (and yes, ocassionally I do) it falls apart. My favourite theory regarding it is one suggested by Darryl Jones: John Connor (who we don't actually meet until T2) is his own father - that would make Kyle Reese actually John Connor from the future. 'JC' - see - 'JC' - another example of someone who is, for different reasons, his own father... Yeah...well, something has to distract me from the 18th century and I find sci-fi a nice antidote.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (No.3) has one of the sloppiest examples of time-travel-writing I've seen - if, as we are supposed to believe, time travel is possible, shouldn't someone have gone back and stopped Voldemort in the first place? I mean, if it's plausible that wanting to take too many classes is a good enough reason to use a time travel device, surely 'saving the world' would rate some consideration? Or, peradventure, to save poor Cedric Diggory at the end of number 4?

Motivation to start yet another chapter of revisions is obviously faltering...

aye, mother earth

July 1 was international action for climate change 'day' - I say 'day' with inflections since, of course, the action taken should extend for far longer than one day. I should, here, direct you here - as it's provided us with some good tips. And here, one of the sites set up by a friend, who has a kind of ambition and uncompromising dedication that are unbelievably inspiring.

Is this the part where I make my excuses? Yes and no. We try our damn'dest to be green - maybe it's easier when the high street's siren call doesn't set the non-existent money jingling in our purses (did that make sense?). Of course, 'green' is the new black - but we've got to be a bit more grassroots on student budgets. We can't afford a lot of officially 'green' products though we've decided to switch to Ecover cleaning products and have stopped using washing detergent in the machine. Alas, our ancient clothes dryer doesn't have a temperature control - everything gets the 90-degree blast - and our damp problem means air drying inside either makes everything slick or makes the clothing stink. We don't have a car; we can't afford vacations; we can afford, within our little budget, to make informed decisions.

What I really wanted to say was that our fridge is full of food we made ourselves. The twice-monthly farmer's market in the city is fantastic inspiration. On Sunday we had locally-sourced, organic beef - the best I've ever had. Our allotment has given us potatoes and salad today. Nasser made a whole jar of homemade mayonnaise - and I actually used up the leftover egg whites, to make meringues (and yes, with fair-trade sugar).

I'm not sure why I started this post with international climate change. I suppose what I'm more interested in is consumer power. So we've decided to see how long we can survive without buying clothing new. The charity shops here are really amazing - that plus wardrobe-swaps should have us kitted out for a while.

Now I'm a bit lost. I suppose that is what blogging is for though. Rambling. Self-congratulatory prose. Announcing the changes in days that would otherwise pass unnoticed.

Time time time (see what's become of me)

How did it get to be July so suddenly? And Tuesday? And after 6pm?

Countdown to submission of The Thesis is on - I've just handed two chapters over for yet another read by my amazing supervisor. Writing is going exceptionally well - I finally feel like I understand my project a little bit. Which is exciting. Staying in the library is considerably easier with the weather like this as well. The flooding has receded - but the rain keeps coming. Good for the garden!

It's been an exciting week in England - what with a new government, terror alerts at 'critical' (I don't know what this means, really), Wimbledon being rained out every half hour... Less prescient to the global community, but more important to me, are such events as finishing aforementioned two chapters, while keeping up the running and not losing my mind.

Doctor Who is, alas, finished for the season. I'm joining in the general grumbling that, while Kylie might be making a guest appearance, Martha (the Dr's latest companion) won't be back next season. Which doesn't start until Christmas... Alas. Back to re-runs of Scrubs and The X-Files (mysteriously on every night on Living) to take my mind off of the 18th century.

Wet blankets

It is, once again, tipping it down outside. This is getting a bit much - even for the north of England. I'm hoping this isn't a new trend: June as a 'rainy season'. I've been trying to wait out the heaviest rain to walk up to campus, but it doesn't seem to be working. I think even our house-cats are feeling the weather as they are more sluggish than usual.

Those of you who follow British politics will know that Gordon Brown gets the keys to no. 10 this week. I'm not sure what difference it will make - or how long Brown will last as PM. This article from MacLean's magazine, however, is not right - or rather it is too far right. Yes, the stats are correct I'm sure - but it amounts to a tacit support of David Cameron's Conservatives. It's a bit uncanny how much this feels like the situation Canada was in when Martin's Liberals were booted out - the scandal, the country described as going to the dogs in the popular press, the suddden about-face in politics and BANG we've got stephen-bloody-harper. I fear the same thing will happen here.

The one problem we don't have in this house is leaks - a fact I'm very glad of in this weather...

Those days...

Set the wrong alarm and missed my morning run - I feel especially stupid about that as it was a route that I suggested. And I have this nagging fear that the Fleet will simply think I've dogged out. THEN as I was leaping out of bed to get to my mobile, I stepped on my glasses, which Laila had knocked, with my bedtime-novel, to the floor. Luckily they are titanium - a matter of little force applied and they are mostly back in shape. I really should get new glasses. Will have to fill out new low-income application to NHS - will get to that today...

It's Open Day at the school today so the campus is absolutely rammed full of pre-university aged people (the worst kind - even below university students); my sacred library space trespassed continuously with boorish, messy, unfeeling candidates and their parents. Yes, I am being unfair. The campus has been so lovely this summer: quiet, peaceful, serene, -- academic. Suddenly, I'm reminded that I have to share it for 9 months of the year...!

London was fabulous - we managed to see 'most everything we wanted and much besides. And we saw this production of Othello at the Globe Theatre, met up with an old friend, and generally amused ourselves being tourists. Now it is really the grind - nearly July and only three months until I hand in The Thesis. Have switched external readers as the professor my supervisor initially picked wasn't available - but have found someone at last willing to read my little dissertation. I'm deliberately not thinking much past 30 September...

AND good news to make up for dreadful morning: it's a birthday-BBQ tonight! I'm hoping that the weather will hold up. It has been raining off and on for a week here in Yorkshire. There is some watery sunlight now - I'm willing it strength to see through the next bank of clouds. Our garden is blossoming like Eden, though I think I've learned something: fruit/veg plus loads and loads of rain makes for big swollen fruit/veg - but it's not sweet. The raspberries on our plot are gigantic this year, but when I picked a bowlful for pudding tonight, they were watery and sour. I've checked my books and apparently sunlight changes the starches to sugars... Simple chemistry I suppose - if they had explained chemistry with food in high-school, I'd have done much better I think. But see the bounty of our garden!

two of every animal

it's been raining for about three days in West Yorkshire. there's nothing so depressing as slipping on a pair of jeans that are still a bit damp from walking home the day before.

the news is telling me that some unfortunate souls in the next town over have seen their cars float out of their driveways. i'm thinking about building a raft, but the closest thing i have to lumber are all these bloody books i need to read...not that i wouldn't be secretly pleased to see it all at the bottom of a lake (which might actually be where it belongs).

that said, there's no better place to be on a rainy day than the library. so off i go. to the library. like, now.

grrargh.

...and it's October again...possibly even November. The temperature outside has taken a nosedive since the weekend - I'm going into the city to work today wearing a sweater, jeans, my boots and likely a jacket. Shocking behaviour for June, methinks.

Yes I am going into work. Because I thought it would be a good idea. No, I don't think it's a good idea anymore. Yes, I have to. No I don't plan on doing it anymore until my thesis is done. I'm nearly finished my marking for the year which is good - I have the weekend off work to spend, well, working on my revised chapter for my supervisor. The library is lovely and empty these days. I love it in the summer - especially cause its climate-controlled... unlike my other office, my house, work... Of course, climate control is bad - all that energy...

Anyway, here is a picture of Nas and me, taken in classic kaleyandnas style, on my 30th birthday...

Bored colour meme

I am so very bored at the library today...and I've already done some surfing on the MLA and found a bunch of new articles for The Thesis. So I feel that I have done some productive work - I also 'shelved' for an hour...

So I went to ForestPirate's site and found some cool memes that I remembered reading there in times past. Here is one on colour and colour associations:

~~~~~~~~~~~~RED~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest red thing to you?
Fire extinguisher on the wall in front of the customer services desk where I'm sitting

2. Have you ever cheated in a relationship?
No.

3. Last thing to make you angry?
Hmm...likely the news. Actually I'm sure it was the news - BBC24. I'm trying to remember exactly what it was though...oh, perhaps the new exhibit at the White Cube Gallery in London of a diamond-encrusted, platinum cast human skull - with original teeth... Oh wait, it was the archbishop in Scotland and his speech about abortion. Wow - I've obviously repressed that one as it angered me so much.

4. Are you a fan of romance?
In my life: yes; in movies: only if it is done suberbly well - and I mean better than Amelie or A Very Long Engagement (known in our household as 'A Very Long Movie'); in novels: yes, they are a big part of The Thesis.

5. Have you ever been in love?
Yup

~~~~~~~~~~~~GREEN~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest green thing to you?
Computer mouse-pad.

2. Do you care about the environment?
Yes.

3. Are you jealous of anyone right now?

Nope. I'm absurdly satisfied and content. Of course, it is Saturday - my job allows me time to do things like this, the sun is shining, and our friend is making us dinner tonight.

4. Do you like being outdoors?
I LOVE being outdoors: garden, jogging, camping, picnic and frisbee-ing, kubb-ing, hammock-ing...

5. Are you Irish?
Is this question for statistical purposes? And, BTW, the national colour of Ireland is blue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~PURPLE~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Last purple thing you saw?
Graduate joining form for the library.

2. Like being treated to expensive things?
Hmm...not really. Is time 'expensive'? I like being treated to an afternoon off - but that should ideally involve napping on the couch, going to the garden - maybe just maybe having a coffee and cake outing.

3. Favorite type of chocolate?
Green & Black's; Montezuma's chocolate-with-espresso. Type of chocolate? 70% dark?

4. Ever met anyone in royalty?
No. Outmoded and embarassing structure perpetuating oppressive traditions and social structures. They shouldn't let me near them.

5. Are you lonely?
Right now? No. Ever? Yes; but sometimes I like it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~YELLOW~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest yellow thing to you?
Reserve notices for the library.

2. Favorite holiday?
Christmas. I know - pretty standard.

3. Are you a coward?
I'm getting the feeling that these questions are deliberately too open to consider carefully. Generally, yes: I hate pain, losing, and not knowing. Specifically, no: I am married, I have moved halfway around the world to persue my interests. In many instances, yes: I cannot watch images of cruelty anymore, I will not let my cats wander for fear that someone will hurt them, I sometimes think obsessively about future pain.

4. Do you want children?
Um...I'm just going to leave this one alone.

5. What makes you feel warm and safe?
Many things: my bed, my house, my cats, Nasser, tea and biscuits, York, the library...

~~~~~~~~~~~~BLUE~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest blue thing to you?
'Loan request' forms.

2. Are you good at calming people down?
I have no idea. Sometimes I suppose. I'm better at letting people calm themselves down.

3. Do you like the sea?
I like the idea of the sea. I've not spent much time around the real thing. Though I would like to. One of my favourite tragic characters, King Haggard in Peter S. Beagle's The Last Unicorn, says of the sea that it is the only thing at which he can look at for long because it is never the same.

4. What was the last thing to make you cry?
The Thesis.

5. Can you sleep easily?
Yes. Because of crazy work/research schedules, home and sleep have become almost entirely synonymous.

~~~~~~~~~~~~PINK~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest pink thing to you?
Highlighter. How boring. Across the room there is a lovely vase full of beautiful flowers.

2. Do you like sweet things?
Yes. But I like rich food better than sweet and plain better than fancy.

3. Do you like punk music?
Another thinker...I like the idea of punk. I like the freshness and paradoxes of original punk, especially in the UK.

4. What is your favorite flower?
Right now - anything that comes up in our garden: sweet williams, poppies, anenomies, sweet peas...I like courgette flowers (pretty and edible!).

5. Does someone have a crush on you?
Don't know & don't really care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ORANGE~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest orange thing to you?
The cover of a book called American Empire.

2. Do you like to burn things?
In a campfire or fireplace - yes.

3. Dress up for Halloween?
Yup.

4. Do you prefer the single life or the security of a relationship?
Crazily happily married

5. What would your superpower be?
That is a great question. Flight? Anti-ignorance brain waves? Superpowers require superpeople and I fear I am not so just or so strong as to not use them to project my own desires on the world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~WHITE~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest white thing to you?
Paper.

2. How do you imagine your wedding?
I don't. I remember my wedding - and it was gorgeous.

3. Do you like to play in the snow?
Yes. But I haven't played in the snow for ages...we don't really get much snow here.

4. Are you afraid of going to the doctor or dentist?
Generally, yes. My blood pressure goes up as soon as I walk into an examination room. The dentist elicits the same response but that is pavlovian as every time I've gone, I've had to get a root canal or some such nonsense.

5. Do you have Attention Deficit Disorder?
um...no.
~~~~~~~~~~~~BLACK~~~~~~~~~~~~
1. Closest black thing to you?
The PC in front of me.

2. Ever enjoy hurting people?
No. Though I do like slap-stick comedy for the tragi-comic value of it.

3. Are you sophisticated or silly?
Both but generally I get the situation wrong.

4. Would you like to go to space?
Yes - definitely - but it's kind of like my wanting to live at the bottom of the ocean: I don't want to do it in a giant ship strapped into all kinds of machines and protective armour. Every environment that is not our own must be entered as though we were back in the womb - the image that makes 2001: A Space Oddessey such a brilliant film. I want to inhabit space - be in space the way I am here on earth.

5. Do you have a lot of secrets?
If I did, I've forgotten them.

June june june!

And it really is, as the song says, 'busting out all over' - and quite suddenly too. Two days ago I thought about turning the heat on (I went and got a jumper instead); today I'm sweltering in a skirt and t-shirt. Of course, all those days when I went into the city on purpose to buy sandals and didn't cause the weather was so awful...now I'm still wearing my black boots. A wee bit hot for the toesies.

But the library is finally quiet. Exams have passed; students have left only scrap paper, litter, and a lingering almost subliminal scent of anxiety - of course, that could be coming from the PhD studies in the basement (including mine!).

Librarians take note: behind me, my co-workers tonight are discussing graphic novels and fantasy...

100

I've been at the library 9 out of the last 10 days either working or researching. And I'm actually not sick of it. It's just starting to feel like home - I should bring a toothbrush.

So I've been 30 for a whole weekend now and still don't feel any different.

This morning was one of those mornings - the kind where I think, we should have stayed in bed, but that would have made it worse. Our trusty alarm clock (Wilko's special four years ago) has finally given up the ghost. Of course, today was one of very few days where we actually needed to be up - 6am for poor Nas - to get to work. I woke up at 7.54; Nas was out of the house by 8... Then, just to crank up my adrenaline as well, his manager called me at my library to say that Nas hadn't turned up to work an hour later. After fifteen minutes in which I convinced myself that he had disappeared somewhere on the 10 minute walk between our house and campus, she rang back to say he was, in fact, at work - they just hadn't checked round. Now adrenaline gone, I'm a bit tired.

Thank goodness for the end of long weekends.

This post has been brought to you by the number 100.

sure, it's raining

But i am writing this in Britain.

as it is the weekend, and i am trapped behind a desk (working) in a university library - a library with no students (a situation which is either ideal [for the librarian] or depressing [because no one is using all this lovely, perfectly good Knowledge]), and it is raining outside, and i am bored to the core of my being...i offer you all this:

paper planes

(i'm kind of stuck constructing the Gomez. i think my favorite is the Silke.)

c'mon, who doesn't like paper planes? or blanket forts? or anything that requires the obsession and borderline mania that only a child trying to balance a playing card on its edge can muster?

Top tip: breathe deep and fold crisply.

30

The OED word-of-the-day today is 'mysterious'.

The weather today is beautiful.

Today is also the birthday of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Today is a glorious day to be born. I've always liked my birthday - I like the symmetry of 25/5/77 - I like the spring/summer-ness of it. But I also like the fact that it feels like any other day.

29

This is the last day of my 20s. I don't mind turning 30 - but I don't like, as my friend put it, the public pressure on 30. People keep offering to 'cheer me up' and 'keep me company' on my birthday, rather than celebrate it! I like turning 30; I especially like the fact that 30 will mark the end of my formal education. I will be a 'Dr' at 30. 'Professor' by 40? Maybe.

It's a fun mental game to think about 30 years ago today. I wasn't here. Or I was here? But not here? This would have been the last day of my parents' lives as two. I'm sure people prepare for these things but I'm also pretty certain that the actual screaming, pooping, realness of a baby is different from whatever was imagined. And that was me.

And why, exactly, does 30 loom so large in the cultural imaginary?

At any rate, I am going to enjoy this last day of 29 by sitting in my office reading articles and writing my thesis. Tomorrow...!

Me V Logan

Logan is so attached to our desk chair that he will, if necessary, sit on whatever is occupying the chair while he 'needs' it. This includes books, cushions, coats, random objects and people - me in particular. While there are few things more comforting in my life than my cats purring on my lap, Logan is huge and heavy and simply not responsive to arguments about me needing to finish my thesis in order to get a job in order to keep him in the lifestyle to which he has become accustomed, which I am currently trying to do.

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...