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.

Abstract thoughts

I just sent off an abstract for a collection of essays - it's from the fourth chatper of The Thesis so wasn't too hard - still a new experience and took far more psychological space than it should have, or than I have space for right now! The intro is just not going to be done for Monday. I still over-estimate my ability to write, forgetting than when I did write 2000 words a night A) I was about 19 and B) they were mostly crap.

We watched Children of Men the other night. It was terrifically disappointing possibly because I had really high hopes for it. First off, while the title sounds all 'ooh...how evocative and traditional and poo like that' it begs the question: is the problem with the future related to the fact that they are relying on men to reproduce the species? I simply will not buy the aesthetic argument that 'children of humankind' is 'clunky'. Honestly. A friend pointed out that there are also some fairly disturbing comparisons made between the black heroine and livestock. The sexual politics of the thing were just all over the place and the end turns into a video-game. No there really is never a question that Kee and her daughter will survive, but they could have done something more interesting with the premise of the thing. Another thing, how is one baby going to solve the infertility problem of the whole planet? Shouldn't they be more interested in Kee and whoever the father is? I suppose one reason for the silly title is that, in the film, women have obviously spectacularly failed at our one single biological task: reproduction. Maybe the film is actually suggesting that we hand that over to men and see how they do (Theo, our hero, dies by the way, but not until safely handing Kee and baby over to other men). Okay so the entire world is more or less united in mouring the whole no children thing - but the fault is tacitly or otherwise placed with women. And another thing, (which my friend also pointed out), I didn't care about anyone in the film - which, I appreciate, is not exactly a solid criticism, but I think I was supposed to. Particularly our hero, whose tangled past just bored rather than intrigued and whose rather pathetic attempts to be indifferent and avoid the whole plot were kind of laughable.

Blah.

Another sure sign of spring: the end of the tax year. And the budget travelling in its very special little red briefcase from No.11 to parliament and from there onto the front pages of every newspaper in the country. Guess what? For those of us down here, nothing changed.

Mornings and afternoons

We've been adding linseed (flax) to our morning oatmeal - which is the best breakfast food ever - cause hey, I'm 30, I figured I should start thinking like this. Anyway, it's nice and slightly nutty.

But you know what I miss? Red River cereal. If anyone has any out there, I'd appreciate a list of what's in it. I'm pretty sure flax was there, likely millet...I could make my own if I knew the rest. I also miss cream-of-wheat which we've searched for but can't find here. We did bring some back from Canada but went through it pretty fast.

Dear lord, I'm blogging about breakfast cereals. There is just no way to pass this off as anything but procrastination...

minor injuries

Within about two minutes of play on the basketball court on Sunday I was injured. Yup. Tragically, I jammed my finger the first time I tried to catch a 'pass'. It hurt like hell. I had no idea basketball was so dangerous. I think I'll stick to running. Amazingly, I haven't injured myself running. The swelling on my poor finger is pretty much gone but wow, did it ever swell up. And some impressive bruising has appeared all the way down to my palm. The annoying thing about the injury is that it hurt but wasn't debilitating...I mean, if I'm going to hurt my hands at this stage, it might as well be something that works as a legitimate excuse for an extension!

Logan managed to sneak out the open kitchen window the other day - we didn't realise until he frantically scrabbled at the door to get in. His tail was huge!! I don't know what scared him but he hasn't been that keen at the door since. Laila is still uninterested in the big world. She's become a most cuddly cat though still strange - this morning she ate some strawberry.

Virgin media has a new ad campaign right now featuring Uma Thurman. Initially, they were just celebrating how many times you could watch Uma's movies on Virgin (I think Richard Branson must be a fan), now they just seem to feature Uma rambling about rain. I'm not sure what the point is but I've lost any interest in watching her films. It's always funny when a commercial brings about the opposite reaction from what is intended.

The weather has been absolutely gorgeous the last two days - I'll say it quietly: I think it's spring!! Walking home from the library was lovely: the mist was back from the morning and the sky was watercolour wash with leftover sunshine. In spite of my general feeling that the day deserved a do-over, it was a pretty nice finish.

It's where I hang my hat

Overheard just down from the uni steps. Speaker: female, young, would-be rah, clearly undergraduate, likely of some vapid communications degree. Situation: (from what I could ascertain) fallout of a recent seminar discussion combined with commentary on some related social event.

'Don't call me a feminist! I ain't a feminist!'

Yes dear. Because god and Primark forbid that you associate yourself in any way with the movement that enabled you to attend the institution at which you took the course that prompted such a reaction.

As I was about to board the bus home, the lady in front of me dropped a pound coin inbetween the pavement curb and the bus wheel. But she continued to board so I assumed she hadn't noticed. So I picked it up. And found her on the bus and handed it back. The response to my 'excuse me ma'am, I think you dropped this'?

'Ta, luv. I ded, bu' whern't gan t' ben' dahn t' ghet ih'.

Lovely. I should have kept it. What kind of person doesn't pick up a bloody pound?! That's a whole bus fare home!

Then, just as the bus reached within sight-distance of my stop, a group of school-girls at the back started yelling 'BOGEYS' at the top of their prepubescent lungs.

Considering the things I've heard loudly proclaimed on public transit, I thought it was kind of sweet.

The Ultimate Song

Having nearly 6 HE degrees between us, a slight hangover, and time to catch up on bits of dangling conversations on the walk to the city centre, Nas and I have discovered The Ultimate Song. Without straying into schmulz, it walks a careful line between sincerity and mockery; it has not one but TWO wanking-guitar solos; too polished to be grungy and forbidding, too dirty to be emo or prog, The Ultimate Song gestures with class and grace towards it's formidable predecessors, it's impressive colleagues in the field of ROCK, and offers a sweet salute to the unknown guitar wankers of the unseen future.

Yes, your heart is singing it - your heels are keeping time with that tight rhythm guitar - you are unconsciously bringing your arm up for that air-chord...

More than a Feeling. Boston. Nope, yer not dreaming now.

That's right.

(Note: a google search of 'the ultimate song' does not turn up 'More than a Feeling' or Boston...yet).

In case you need further proof of it's Awesome Power, consider the following testimonial: Aqua Teen Hunger Force neighbour, Carl Brutananadilewski, actually refers to it as 'the ultimate song'. This and other interesting facts about the ultimate song - for example, it took 7 years to write - can be found here. That's right - it's so great it has its own wikipedia entry.

Go on. Listen. Feel your chest expand with emotion - play that air guitar. Let it sink into your soul. Make it more than a feeling.

This is thot

Sometimes, people make me warm and fuzzy inside. Sometimes, they make me feel bad for generally being cynical about the state of the world as it is and the future of humanity (what a prat! Do I really spend any time thinking about that? while sober?).

Downtown doing the groceries this morning and on the way home, we stopped at the best sweet shop in the city and bought our favourite chocolate - from an amazing Belgian artisanal company - and proceeded to the best comic store in the ENTIRE WORLD (I did think that before this morning). As is my wont, I immediately squealed as though the store were full of baby polar bears, put down my precious chocolate, and started reading from the counter display. The fellow who owns the store is fantastic and we've been patrons since moving here so he doesn't even raise an eyebrow at my performance - I established my cred long ago. Anyway, Nas found something new, we chatted with the owner about various books, browsed through their fantastic collection of small-press stuff and chapbooks, and left. Only about 30 minutes later did I realise that I was no longer in possession of my chocolate.

So I swore. And stomped around a bit. And hiked with our groceries all the way back to OK Comics. And as soon as I walked in lovely owner smiled and presented me with my chocolate bar. And the world was sunny again.

C'mon, I'm writing up my thesis - yes, this does count as really really making my day.

I forgot to mention that Nas cut my hair last week. I love it - and I've gotten more compliments than when I've spent £40.

Facebook: I'm increasingly ambivalent about Facebook. I still love it - it's brought me into contact with people I haven't seen in nearly 10 years; people that I wouldn't know how to find otherwise. At the same time, I wonder about the efficacy or point of 'reconnecting' virtually with people I met and grew fond of because of shared experiences, shared spaces and places - not simply e-letters exchanged because of a convenient new SNS. But then, I think good crap! what kind of a luddite/cynical isolationist am I? Maybe it's cause I'm just not very good at acquaintances; there are people on there that used to be big parts of my life - people that I thought I would be in touch with 'forever' - people who didn't disappear suddenly, but gradually. I just looked around one day and realised that they weren't there and any regret was because I hadn't noticed them leaving: I'd just felt the space where they'd been. And I suppose the older I get (hey, nearly 30! Wisdom speaking - pay attention) the more I'm afraid of giving with the same intensity that I threw into every relationship when I was young and boundless. These facebook-entries are haunted - not so much by memories, as by shades of fearlessness and youth. The casual 'hey, there you are! How've you been?' somehow thick with the intensity of the friendship-that-was. And I'm afraid of the things that I've forgotten, the people - including myselves - that I've left behind, because I don't know them anymore. So it's a risk I suppose; a chance to reconnect not only with old friends but with old selves, younger me-s that I insist are strangers now to this woman I've become.

But then I realise I want to be a part of this; I miss these people and I respond to this newness of old friends - this is how we are becoming and moving forward, by folding back on ourselves.

Facebook!

I've discovered something even more fascinating than blogging. Yes, in spite of all my blustering about joining something on which my students could find out personal and embarrassing details about me (such as spelling errors and favourite movies), I've joined Facebook.

I love it.

I also discovered that I absolutely love making lists of things about me. Which is why my personal file on said website is bigger than anyone else's that I've come across.

I think I'm going to have to work on my CV before applying for any jobs, alas. Unless they will humour me by listening to the things I'd like to publish - or would have published if I didn't have to hold down two jobs during my degree just to pay rent! So rather than spend time applying now, I'm going to spend time writing articles out of my thesis. It does beat trying to come up with a first line for my introduction. I have about twenty false-starts for that already...

It's snowing and sunny today, bizarre, yes. Tonight, there is fun planned - we're meeting up with some friends from the old workplace. I am being especially virtuous today to make up for it though: I ran for 30 minutes this AM, I'm spending the afternoon bashing my head against my desk in the library, and I'm going to pilates this evening.

Not nearly (bad as it seems)

It wasn't so bad - in retrospect; at the time, I was fairly furious. But the sofa in the PG common room isn't half bad for a nap. It's a pretty cosy room - though the windows do bang against the sashes a bit. Oh well. I did get ripped off by the taxi-man for my ride home - £4.50!! My last fivver...

He's not the worst husband ever - just a bit of a deep sleeper. Luckily work yesterday was busy-ish (for the library I'm at anyway!) so I didn't have to sit at the desk for any long stretches. I even shelved for over an hour. Last day of term - all the kids brought their books back - the shelving bays were stacked. Shelving is actually fairly relaxing; it's dead easy, repetitive, and requires little to no thought.

There's a job posting for a year-long position at Leeds in 18th-century literature. I've emailed my supervisor to ask her opinion but I think I will apply for it - with no hopes but that of gaining some experience in a nice familiar setting. I've got the teaching experience - just not the publication record. In the next two weeks I have to finish my chapter draft, write a proposal for a collection of essays, and now, write up and submit my CV and application for a REAL JOB. Yikes. So much for Easter hols.

That being said, I do have motivation - we've been invited up to the Lake District! If that doesn't get me going, eager to finish everything, nothing will.

BTW, it's Mother's Sunday here - and it snowed today. I don't think these things are related. But the sun has suddenly appeared and it is beautiful outside now. I prefer Mother's Day in May tho that might be purely nostalgic since my favourite mass when I was a kid (Catholic school - yes, I had a favourite mass) was the one dedicated to the Virgin Mary in May (which I was taught was the 'Month of Mary' and got to feel rather special that my birthday was in that month too) that kind of extended to all mothers. I remember the church was beautiful - this was before they painted it an ill-conceived shade of pink - and of the heaps of flowers there, most of them were Lillies of the Valley, which I loved for some reason. I loved the hymns to Mary as well.

Anyway, the point is - happy mother's day mum! and Grandma! But I'll call on the real mother's day...