let's get back to work and make the best of it

Oh, I really will blog soon.
I have things to witter about I'm sure.

she forgot all about the library

The Library is on my mind.
I heard that fantastic lyric.
So, here is the result, a post about library politics (sort of).

As I expertly scanned myself into the library for the third time today I thought these things to myself :

1. Do the library staff think I'm wierd for coming here so much?
2. Wow, I must scan my library card more often than my beloved Oyster.
3. I do come here a lot, don't I?

So with the topic in mind, I thought I'd pause on my way from the first floor toilets to the Miscellanous section to write about my favourite library positions.

• In the above mentioned miscellanous section, on the seat with Misc IX to my right and the photocopier to my left. These are the only desk on the first floor arranged in a face to face pair with a mini wall in between, and no here is behind, so no one can watch you work, or not work. In front of this desk are the 2 computers in the main body of the library with the internet, so, if in the middle of the reading you suddnly think "Hang on, who was Bela Kun again?" or "What is "sateity"?" you can quickly pop online and utilise Wikipedia (remember not to reference it in your essay, of course). The photocopier is right there if you want to copy anything, but then this does when there are often people coming into your "work zone" to copy things themselves, but this is often welcome company.

• In the Russian/Ukrainian reference section, on the desk on the left hand side of the four. Again, this is two-facing-plus-mini-wall desk, and no one is behind you. This section is quite quiet, as the books here are generally boring or have limited interest (Russian engineering dictionary anyone? Russian for computing? Russian - Japanese dictionary?). You can't take them out, so they don't need to be reshelved often. Also, these desk are quite far removed from the main bank of desks on this floor, and from the main bank of good books (Rus XXIV 7, and Rus IX) , and as most students will get the book first then a desk, they don't usually come near you. Also, if you need a giant Russian dictionary, or to check a verb form, they are right there, in between the first long shelf and the last shorter one. Finally, if you are at your maximum loan limit, or more likely, already have the 3 permitted 7-day loan books, and want to sneakily hide a book, the un-interesting nature of this section, means a hidden book is unlikely to be found, allowing you to come back later and retireve it. Downsides to this desk - it is very close to the library staff's kitchen area. This means if you are there at 11, 1 or 3, they are perpetually in and out of there, boiling the kettle, using the microwave and generally being loud. And reminding you that you don't have coffee or food because you are in the library and that is therefore Not Allowed. This constant movement of librarian also means that if you are doing anything Not Allowed, for example - texting, having a drink other than water in a clear bottle, you are more likely to be seen and spoken to. But all in all. A good desk.

And now, i must get back to the main body of the library, to the miscellanous seat this time.

look who's alone now

So, apparently, Dumbledore's gay.

I'm not going to believe it. The books have been written, and "set free" as it were, JK Rowling has no control anymore, and if it's not in the book, it's not in the book. The reader can interpret the contents however they wish. Here's some interpretation.

Harry Potter shows pretty much "traditional/conversative" type values.

Firstly, it's a boarding school, and there is no sex, no sneaking into each other domitries, showers etc, and the First Kiss comes in fifth year, and that point it's a Big Deal.

Unlike other boarding schools, there is no excessive alcohol comsumption at Hogwarts. We're not really sure what Butterbeers are, but I'm guessing they can only really be as strong as shandy, (or even the 0.1% of ginger beer). No one comes back from Hogsmeade trollied, there are no alcohol-fuelled initiations into the Quidditch team, and most surprisingly, no one is found collapsed in the toilets during the Yule Ball.

On this theme there is also a distinct lack of the smoking of Class C magical substances out of the domitory windows.

And in the wider world, a lot of childhood sweethearts marry (Harry's Parents, Harry and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Mr&Mrs Weasley?, The Malfoys?) , they marry young, have babies straightaway, they stay married - happily, there are no divorces at all, and the people who get married later (Bill and Fleur) get married quickly, and they have babies straight away as well, and Mrs Weasley and Fleur are both stay at home mums.

Dumbledore is single. So is Mcgonagall.

people are just people like you

I'm in a large cluster room tucked away in the corner.

I went to Planet Organic today, which was very cool. It sells so much wierd food! I didn't branch out into an "almond protein ball" or spiced quinoa (although I wanted), but stuck with Maya Gold and mushroom soup. That is two seperate items, not the chocolate and the vegetable combined into a warm filling liquid. I also have to mention that I think the name is fantastic, and very satisfying to say.

And now I'm going to pop off to the All Souls Club House for some Koinonia-BBQ action, hurrah!

I'm going to go now, having not satisfied the potential of the title with these food related musings.

are you lonely yet?

If I felt less like I was abusing the cluster room by blogging, I'd do it more

the dandelions in the sun

I'm away from my carefully compiled list of lyrics waiting to find new life as a title. I have also forgotten my cable so I cannot retrieve my pre-written blog entry from my phone.

But I can say that the 259 to Kings Cross does not go to Kings Cross, but rather leaves the rider stranded at some unknown bus stop somewhere behind Pentoville Road.

you were an island to discover

Somehow I'm more worried and/or stressed about going to London tomorrow than I was this time last year. But this year it's in a quiet, exhausted way, not a run-around way.

And this time round I know things I didn't know last time including

• Who I'll be living with
• Exactly where I'll be living
• What my rooom looks like
• That the kitchen is a sensible size
• How to get to uni
• How to get into the library
• How to understand the library codes
• What courses I'm doing
• Who I'll be doing them with
• Who I like
• Who I don't
• That I will have a job
• Where the nearest supermarket is to my flat
• What I'm doing nearly every day next week

I haven't managed to convey how I'm really feeling.

But maybe I like surprises.

they'll inherit your legs

So I've recieved my letter from the student loans people telling me that they are giving me money next year, woo hoo! It is, being London, less than my rent, but never mind, I'll cross that bridge later. On the top of the letter it says in big red letters "TAKE THIS WITH YOU TO REGISTRATION" and at the bottom stresses the importance of this, saying that if I don't then the money will never arrive at The Nationwide.

I have however, already registered for this coming academic year. It did online, have paid my fees and am now fully enrolled.

I probably have a need to call some people and quote reference numbers. Oh joy.

it's only smoke and ashes

Yesterday I got the train to London, and somewhere between Doncaster and Peterborough the weather turned from bright sunny skies, to completely dark grey. On the return trip today I noticed the same thing in reverse. After 2 months of jeans and the threat of rain, I'm back in a skirt.

I definitely like skirts. A lot.

And I'm turning over a new leaf.

Again.

Write positive, be positive.

poor little rich boy, all the couples have gone

I haven't written in such a long time. I'm starting again in a shaky, wobbly unsure way. This will hopefully lead to confidence and greatness.

It's not only the blogging that's gone down the pan this summer. I feel pretty much inept at communicating in any way anymore. The ability to prase a text message or an email in such a way as to not appear rude seems to have completely eluded me. I don't know how to make small talk anymore. I don't know how to talk to anyone at work. I probably come accross and wierd and young and completely uncaring, especially in relation to the whole Tim's probably schizophrenic wife situation. I'm rubbish on the phone. When and if I ever get round to it, I don't have any sentances.

Does no one else realise I'm this bad?

I can be better.

Or has it been too long to recover?

no cars go

I'm still alive.
Just bad at blogging.
And the amount of stuff in my head has reached new levels.
I'm completely clogged up.
I'm failing to communicate.
At all.
So eloquent prose has no chance.

open up, everything's waiting for you

I have done nothing good today.
It is grey outside.
I am in a grey mood.
I have not finished packing.
I have had a bath.
I have eaten Pret food.
I have not emailed.
I have watched the Wright Stuff.
I have not bought shampoo.
I have brushed my teeth.
I have not left the house.
I have put a plaster on my toe.
I have not baked.
I have bought a rail ticket.
I have not planned.
I have not.

you're still not famous

I'll still not posting properly.
But I really want to.
I have been too busy, too tired, too far from a PC, and too abroad to post for a long time.
I have many, many half post ideas in my head struggling to come out.

On Saturday night our car broke down in a carpark near Gatwick airport and we had to call out the rescue men. We got home at 5am. I was at work at 9, then church and wasn't home til 10pm. As a lay in bed at midnight, knowing I had work in 8 hours I really wanted to post but I was too physically tired to get from bed to PC. And PC was off, another barrier. It's harder to post when the "set-up laptop" is no longer a feature of my room and I have to venture into the rest of the building to find a broadband connection and keyboard combo. But there were so many possible posts in my head that I couldn't sleep.

As I laying there thinking them through, I suddenly wanted to the blog about the fact that I couldn't blog because I needed sleep, but couldn't sleep because I needed to blog.

And then I REALLY wanted to blog about the fact that I wanted to blog about that.
So here I am.

But it seems none of the other topics have blossomed enough to distinguish them from the rest of them, and therefore, for the time being, remain brain bound.

i'll go home and mull this over

On Tuesday I bought some shoes. They are flat. I wore them for 10 minutes and they made me feet bleed. My feet hurt more than with any other pair of shoes I have ever worn. (Excluding a pair of 4-inch gold stillettoes, but I did wear them and dance in them for 5 hours) Yesterday I tired taking them back despite the fact that I had clearly worn them, argued with the shop assistant "They must be faulty, you shouldn't sell such poor quality shoes, I didn't expect this from a market leader, if I had known I wouldn't have bought them, etc". I failed. Today Ben heard the staff in that shop bitching about me and I am stuck with a pair of shoes that I can't wear.

Yesterday I saw a man drop his McDonalds burger on the floor just as his friend took a step. The friend unfortunately stepped straight into the burger-casualty leaving a meaty cheesy mess lying mid-pavement on Bootham. Were my stomach weaker, the side would have been vomit-inducing.

This is what the world offers.
Cheap shoes that hurt.
Cheap food that makes you vomit.
Both of which damaged something else in the process.
People that bitch about you when you can't accept this.

Despite this realisation, I have been to that shop three days in a row now and bought chips in McD's 3 hours ago.

It clearly made a big impression on me.
It's hard to walk away from.

you are the generation that bought more shoes

While I was in Russia I wrote down loads of song lyrics to save for blog titles. I've lost the piece of paper.

I got my library card and bus card out of my suitcase and put them somewhere. I'm pretty sure that somewhere should be either the desk next to this computer or on my bed. The somewhere is not there.

And why hasn't PostSecret been updated? I hope Frank's OK.

prloqsc spells touble to me

So I'm back.


I have realised I made a typing error while typing in Russian. I am now far away from the nearest known Cyrillic keyboard. Correction, therefore, will have to wait. Unless I give copy and paste a go, using a random Russian website. We'll see.


I have decided to compile my thoughts for a post about Kazan', but for now I'll break my literary mold and give you some artistic distraction while I walk to the cash point and survey what damage 3 feet of flood water causes to a market town.

stop! tell me where you're going

я в россии. сейчас я в кафе, на улице холодо так я не пошла в плаж.

That's enough of that.

At some point on Friday last week, I developed a cold. This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I swam in the Volga. Twice. And have done three more times this week. My хозяйка of course thinks it is because I do not wear slippers in the house. Here is her advice :
"You must go to the market and buy slippers! They are not expensive. And then you will not be ill"

"Why aren't you going out this evening? Why are you sitting at home? Only old women sit at home all the time!"

"If you study, you will be like Marie Curie."

"Why don't you know what job you want to have? I went to teacher-school, I became a teacher. Or you go to med-school, and become a doctor. Do you have no goal? Maybe you will just be a wife and have children! Ha!"

"Are you talking on the phone? Oh, well, I am doing a crossword. Do you have crosswords in England? Help me. Which football club does Roman Abramovich own? Who is this rapper? What's the second name of the American actress called Goldie?"

"Are you talking on the phone? Look at my matrioshkas! I have many. Are you going to buy them for your parents? Why not? Why don't they want a matrioshka? I didn't want chocolates and you gave me chocolates!"

"I had an Indian-English student. She was called Sita. This is a сита *holds a sieve*. So I said, 'Oh look, your sister is here! Сита! Сгта!"

I've only got a week left. I'll be sort of sad to leave. I'm beginning to think I could actually like my хозяйка if only I could understand her. Linguisticly and otherwise.

this afternoon in the park i met her

Please will someone tell me how to change the language of blogger. The only other person who uses blogger in Kazan' is Korean.

I have things to say, but when I have no immediate outlet I forget them.
So, does waiting four years for an election encourage apathy?

there's a crack in his plastic crown

I am in Kazan', in Russia.

I have two thoughts

1. Here water is free i think, it was for the whole communist time anyway so people are used to it being free, and people waste it. So maybe now we are used to free education we waste that too.
2. There is no dot on my clustrmap where i am.

gigantic, a big big ho

The conspiracy theorist in me may be about to come out to play.

In Britain, as in the majority of countries, education is free. This right to a free education is something we passionately protect and advance. For example, many of the debt-release schemes in Africa had in their conditions a commitment to the provision of free education in the future and the introduction of university top-up fees was not without its protests. The provision of free education by the state is rightly championed.

The idea that people should pay for education seems incredulous and counter to our societies values. The long history and existance of private schools often comes under attack. Parents are sometimes criticised for sending their child to a private school, but if that child needed an operation, they would not criticised in the same way if they chose a private hospital to treat her.

The NHS is unique, in other countries citizens are expected to pay, or least get their insurance company to pay, for their own medical expenses. Nearly all of the population live in privately owned housing. Although child care tax credits are avaliable, child care is also privately provided. The railways have been denationalised, and the bus companies are companies too. The energy companies, phone companies, and now the postal services operate in the free market. In several countries, including Britain, Bolivia and Australia, even the water supply has been privatised. The world bank is actively advising Ghana to follow suit. There has even been a call to legalise organ sales, and let a free market economy solve the problem of donor shortage.

Why is free state-provided education championed so universally, when the idea of state-provided (even if it isn't free) housing, healthcare, and water is dismissed?

Is it because education is "every child's right" and is such a basic need that the state needs to intervene? Is access to water not as important? Is decent housing? Or healthcare?

Does the state provide education because the parents can't be trusted to provide it "properly"? Does it set a national cirriculum because trained teachers don't know what children need to learn? Or does the state provide our free, controlled education so we can be trained the ways of the state and learn how to be good citizens, in their opinion? Do they provide free education so children get used to the fact that they learn at school, and not at home, so if the state wanted to place ideas about the world in their minds, those ideas could be instilled and nutured before they have learnt to think? Something that the controlled school system could all to easily neglect to teach.

you must have known that i was fond of you

I am back at home for a brief soujourn before I flit off to Russia.

I miss my little yellow room. It is completely empty and devoid of life. I am sad to leave it behind. I'm finding it strange having to ajust to having doors on my wardrobe and actually having drawers. I keep checking my pocket when I go to the loo to see if I have got my key, even though I don't need to anymore. I have more space but less privacy.

Sleeping in the dark is proving difficult. I have just set up my radio alarm clock, which now provides a comforting warm glow, reminding me of city centre living.

I miss noise. Life is so quiet here.

I have lost independence. I can no longer easily get to anywhere I would ever want to go by myself. The bus now costs £4.70 rather than £1. I can't get to the trian station in 14 minutes.

The sitting had been completely commandeered by Katherine while my parents continued their exile to the "breakfast room".

It is impossible here for 4 people to share the kitchen, whereas 16 coped perfectly well in our cupboard-kitchen in London. No one sits around together just chatting. At uni we cook seperate dishes but eat together, at home there is one dish and seperate rooms.

There's no newspaper in the kitchen anymore. There are no tea breaks. No one does the crossword. Grocery shopping is no longer a social activity. If someone wants to go out, no one will go with you anymore.

the village store opens whenever it likes

I was reading the news today.

What stirkes me about this, is do the girls really need to check so regularly? Once a month, do they think "Oh, I wonder if I'm still a virgin. I'll go and check." I know that isn't the mentality really. Is it another expression of the age-old "I'll get together with people like me" combined with an obsession with virginity/non-virginity as shown in the delightful Channel Four documentary Virgin School, and in the "technical virgins" of the Bible Belt? Or by giving over their bodies to their elders, are these women self-empowering?

Then I read this.
There are many points I want to make, and I can't form an argument or structure right now.

• Charities operating in the UK only have to have 8% of their income going towards the actual "charitable work". This isn't necessarily directly relevent, but I thought I'd throw it in.
• A charity is a company that makes no money on purpose. So any school that set up with the idea "So we'll take the money and spend them on teachers and books and stuff, and if we have any left over we'll get some more stuff for the school, for the kids. We won't make a profit, we'll give it all to the kids" surely is a charity.
• What benefit do I, a resident of Pocklington get from any of the schools in Pocklington? Should I just be greatful that they provide somewhere for the pesky teenagers to go during the day? Should the state schools lose their charitable status, after all, what do the residents get from them? After I had moved to a private school, how were they contributing to my education?
• "Mr Johnson said private schools tended to get more specialist teachers and spend more money on facilities such as science labs." Well, there's no one saying "Oh no we can't refurbish your lab, or sell you equipment, you're a state school, and you're not allowed"
• Is he suggesting that that private schools should let the local state school use their labs for free, or should they charge?
• Basically his viewpoint appears to be "The nasty private schools are doing better than us. It's not because we're mismanaging, it's because they refuse to share. So we're not going to try to improve state schools by our own efforts, but instead we'll stamp our feet and demand they give us stuff"
• There are definitely grounds for removing charity status from some private schools, but they aren't about lending the state their facilities.

wearing tennis shorts made of stripes

I've been home, and now I'm back. Somehow blogging while at home just doesn't work so well.

I was supposed to completely gut my room and throw away the many, many items of junk that I mustn't really need because I've coped a whole year without out them. This didn't really happen. I have, to be fair, gone through all of my bank statements since 2004 and destroyed them all. I also managed to find all the bits of "useful paper" that I have stored safely in my room, and put them all together. I have also begun to collect a whole box and more of stuff that I don't want but could possibly be sellable. I didn't even think to open the box by my window to explore it's contents.

I started, but there is a long way to go. So now when I arrive home next week with the entire contents of my room here I will probably be unable to move. Never mind.

I was going to write about road works and their place in causing annoyance in my life, but I have now realised that in fact it is the absence of road works that has caused me irritation over the past week. The prime example being when the traffic on the A1079, which is already at almost double the normal volume due to the then lack of the A166, was stop-start for a full 5 miles going west and 3 miles going east. Why? Because some road-work-men had set up a set of traffic lights and some cones in the road! There were no actual "works" going on whatsoever! But, I hear you say, they were surely just preparing for the imminent digging up of the road. No. I drove back along that road just 4 or 5 hours later and the men, the lights, and the cones had gone. They had done nothing. Equally irritating were the traffic lights by Merton/Murton yesterday. They had FINISHED resurfacing the road. The only reason we couldn't have 2 lanes of traffic at once was because the traffic lights were in the way. Fantastic.

Or not.

it takes a second to say goodbye

Ben is in the bath.
I'm on the sofa.

When my alarm went off today I was genuinely puzzled as to why it was interrupting my sleep.
When I drove home from the station today I really had trouble with my spacial awareness. "Where exactly is the outside of the car?"
When I watched Sunday morning TV I thought to myself that Edwina Currie wears even more make-up than the PussyCat Dolls do.
When I read Post Secret I prayed for the girl (I imagined it to be a girl) who misses God.
When my mum and I had prawn salad for lunch I made the dressing.
When I tidied my room I found the letters I received while I was in Tanzania.
When I cooked peas I used the new colander.
When I went to church I got held up by an old-school traditional gypsy horse and caravan.
When I listened to the sermon I held his hand.

we'll no longer memorize or rhyme

My perspective is changing.

I'm realising that I'm the same girl.
I'm realising that I could have done it all along.
I'm realising that they think I'm worth it; that's where it all comes from.
I'm realising that they are probably right.


I have failings.
I am not a failure.

But although I have realised, I may still act like I have no idea.

i love you dearly but you're never alone

Firstly : Three observations I made on my journey to Charing Cross this morning.

1. I saw a pigeon eating sick. Those birds are digusting.
2. The tube announcer lady says "Tottenham" of "Tottenham Court Road" in a mildly amusing way.
3. I got the tube at 8am. The only other people in the station were the tube men, and there were only 2 people in my carriage when I got on. This was the emptiest I have ever seen it. It was good.

Secondly : Some blog related thoughts.

After the excitement of having La Bella Principessa comment on two of my posts, I got myself a clustr map, which is now prudly sitting in the right hand column. On the first upload I found that apart from myself, my boyfriend, and maybe Graham, I had at least four other people reading my blog that day, one in France, one in Toronto (La Bella Principessa), one in California and one in Western Australia. I had 20 visits that day.

However, I was unsure how many were me, so I made an effort not to look at my blog for a day. That day I had 12 visitors.

I have just checked now, and yesterday I got 2.

Were they both Ben?
Probably.

we're gonna steal your skies

8/5/05 1800 Decide to write a blog about my actions over the next 24 hours.

1801 Made some squash with 2 ice cubes. Got a text from Lucy Brown

1805 Washed up the pan and plate from the asparagus and eggs on toast I had for 'lunch' at 1500, for once remembering to wash the coffee cup too.

1810 Tidied the junk from off my bed.

1813 Thought about how cold I have been today, checked the weather forcast, mused that it must have been colder than 18 degrees.

1826 Looked at a map of Kazan' to find where I'll be living in June. Unlike nearly everyone else in my class, I am unworried about the prospect. It's just a month, it's a big city, it's a G8 country, I speak the language. It's not 6 months, in some village, up a muddy hill, in the 178th richest (or 24th poorest) country, the language of which I knew 2 words. One of which turned out to be incorrect.

1852 Read some of A History of Poland - Anita Prazmowska.

1910 Left my room to go to Lucy's via Tesco and a Tube Station.

1915 Attempted to register my already registered oyster card at Warren Street. Had my intelligence insulted and my ego bruised by the tube lady.

1919 Went to Tesco, saw that juice is 98p. But as I am adamant it costs 79p in the other one, reesolved to go to J Sainsbury's instead. Set off walking to Lucy's

1935 Arrived in Mornington Crescent, went to Sainsbury's. Purchased Sainsbury's pineapple juice, which turns out to be better, but more expensive that Tesco's.

1945 Arrived at Lucy's. Cooked rice, with a sauce made of what was left in her cupboards and fridge. That is 2 onions, garlic, tomato pasta sauce, pesto, dried parsley, salt and pepper. Ate this. Chatted. Had yoghurt and malteasers for desert. Chatted. Washed up.

2220 Left, walked to the bus stop, got on the 29.

2244 Arrived home. Brushed teeth, face-wiped, put pyjamas on. Was very, very tired.

2252 Called Ben, arranged to call again in 10 mins so we could talk while in bed together 200 miles apart. Phaffed nonspecifically

2302 Turned off laptop, got into bed, wrapped self in double duvet, called Ben, got told he needed a few more minutes.

2305 Called back, somehow talked for an hour, despite my sleepy sleepy state.

0010 Said bye, hung up, went to sleep.

0800 Yesterday's exam alarm woke me, I turned it off.

1020 Woke up of my own accord, but the bed was so soft and revision so unappealing that I rolled over, and slept again. Had a complicated morning time dream in which, among other things Tadhg shot my dad, but that was at the beginning and not the main source of action. That was provided as I attempted to get a rich family to take me to a train station so I could get 3 trains to a police station, they would have to buy my ticket, but I would send them a check in the post. We were all wearing tweed. The twist came just before I woke up when it turned out that Tadhg, dressed as he was at the Back to the Future party was their son, and it was him I wanted to get arrested.

1250 Woke up again. Was shocked at the time. Got up, dressed etc. Tidied up a bit, made some squash, drank it, checked my email, had one from TfL saying they were giving me a refund. Wrote on some people's facebook walls.

1430 Got round to revision. Resived

1506 Made coffee, began to drink it, with the help of six Cadbury's chocolate oat biscuits on the trot.

1512 Ben called :)

1520 Carried on revising.

1621 Looked out the window. It was raining.

1645 Wrote an email to Lucy, it took half an hour but was 1732 words. That's an essay, oh how good life would be if I could write an essay in half an hour.

1722 Sent the email, revised again.

1752 Went to the kitchen to make a tea of asparagus and peas. Noticed that something was "going down" at Saatchi and Saatchi, three matching vans with suited minders wearing earpieces were waiting in a row outside. See the picture below.

1800 Passed me by.

read all the pamphlets

Why is it that scientologist evangelists and Labour politicians dress the same?

why did we have to meet on the night i lost my head?

In church yesterday I was clearly not paying the correct amount of attention, and found myself musing about something that really annoyed me between 2003 and 2005. This was part of the time of my life I spent working at The Cherry Tree restuarant, and one of the deserts they offered was a crème brûlée, but they didn't spell like that. I don't think I would have minded 'creme brulee', bearing in mind that the owners were a bit old and probably had at least a small amount of difficulty finding out how to type accented letters. But on the menu it was written as 'creme brulé'.

This annoyed me for three reasons.

1. They have spelt it wrong, 'crème' is feminine and therefore requires an extra 'e' on the past tense verb, that is 'brûlée'.
2. They have missed off the accent on 'crème', and they have missed off the other accent on 'brûlée'. (This wouldn't have annoyed me half as much if number three didn't apply.)
3. They clearly mananged to accent 'brulé' once, so why can't they manage them all?

Let's take an all or nothing attitude on this sort of thing.

But that attitude is probably not helpful in a lot of areas of life. It is helpful in the sense that if something is going to be a little, or nothing, it'll probably be nothing. However, if something is going to be some, or all, you'll try and make it all, have it consume your life, begin to annoy you, and you will ultimately fail. So, in recognition of this, you'll go for nothing in all things. That way you will never fail.

All or nothing is therefore perhaps only a bad thing when combined with a fear of failure.

All or nothing can leave you open to never appreciate 'good'. But that depends on where you set the bar for 'all', or indeed 'nothing'.

All is subjective.

last night i missed all the fireworks

Last night I danced the night away in Mornington Crescent. I was not in KOKO, but just across the road for a third of the price.

It was a small place, but not without its interests. There was a pole on a stage which provided an opportunity for the over-confident people among the crowd to show off. It was mostly gay men who availed themselves of this. During a song called 'The watering can song' a watering can the shape of an elephant is filled with vodka and poured into the mouths of the crowd. There are four girls paid to dress up and dance at the front of the front stage for the full 6 hours, one of whom was dressed as a sailor. Behind the front stage was a screen playing films on silent, last night these included Corpse Bride. There was a quick quiz and CD give away, which I managed to benefit from.

There was a very interesting lesbian couple, who rather unfortunately looked like a pair of drag queens. One did so in the large, wide, tall fashion of a pantomime dame, the other was also relatively tall but really skinny so spotting her boobs became difficult, but not impossible. She was possibly wearing a wig, but certainly a lot of hairspray, glitter false eyelashes on both sets of lashes. Clothing wise she had on an extremely short dress with suspenders and fishnet stockings. Bearing in mind the fact that most tights models are waxed men, this dress/stocking combo made me think 'only a man could have legs that good'. I then realised that the dress was so short I could tell she definitely didn't have a willy. Nice.

The worst dressed of the night goes to the woman who was at least post-30, tall, with a model's figure, wearing clumpy furry boots, a see-through black lace top with no bra, and black rubber hot pants with a red heart strategically placed where you'd expect it to be.

Despite these freaky-types, there were some genuinely normal people there. Even the people in what could be reasonably considered fancy dress weren't pretentious, and didn't look down at the more conventionally dressed. I didn't feel out of place. The professional dancing girls asked us to dance up on the stage. I got a free CD. There were no creepy too-old men that think students will sleep with anyone. The journey home was swift, easy and uneventful. It was a success.

But it made me realise again how many people are hurting, broken, needy, and looking in all the wrong places for the answers. And that if we're honest, even if we know were not to look, we all go there sometimes.

throw all consequence aside

Just a thought, is anyone actually reading? Please let me know with a quick comment, and if there is a 'following', I'll endeavour to improve my postings for my readership.

If not, I'll improve just for me.
I might do that anyway.

But, right now, it's time for sleeps. Night night.

can't you see what you've done?

Is being valued so rare that it ought to provoke tears? Or is it such a precious thing that we should all be crying everyday?

[I was being too cryptic, but if you want to find the puzzle, look here. ]

nobody searches, nobody cares somehow

To all those Christian pastor/leaders types who advocate giving a tithe of 10% of your gross income to your local church :

If I'm a UK taxpayer, and I helpfully fill in the Gift Aid declaration and standing order form, can I give 10% of the net and Gift Aid it? Or do you want 10% of my gross PLUS Gift Aid?

So much legalism, so little time.

I just don't understand, if their message is : - "Oh yes, of course we are all under grace now, so we can give what we like, but if we gave 10% under law just think how MUCH MORE grace will give, so that is why we say give at the very minimum a tithe of 10% of your gross income to your local church, but of course, you should give more, give cheerfully, God loves a cheerful giver, did you know that the original Greek meaning for the word translated here as "cheerful" means hilarious? Anyway, you don't HAVE to give. But, you know, really, ... givety give give!!!" - why do they have to continue using the language of the law?

Why is my financial gift a "tithe" when it isn't a tenth of the increase in number of my livestock, or a tenth of my harvested crops? Why is it a "tithe" when I'm not giving it to the tribe of Levi to allow them to continue the temple system of sacrifices and offerings?

Why do they tell me to "tithe" by quoting a prophecy that said to the Israelites "Follow my decrees, including the full payment of tithes, honour me, and I will give you the Messiah" ? I thought we already had Him.

Why do I even think I've interpretted this better than them? What right do I have to say anything, to them, to anyone else? Why does it have to be so complicated?

Why can't we just give? Give intelligently. Give unintelligently. Give in proportion. Give in excess. Give money. Think about it first. Don't think about it. Give time. Give food. Give things. Give to God. Give to church. Give to charity. Give to others. Give to help. Give to serve. Give to worship. Give to love.

everything looks perfect from far away

I just read this in the Telegraph. I would do a great big Graham-esque comment on my response to this article, but I don't have one. I just thought it was funny. And interesting, perhaps.

it really is no mystery

I just did a google-whack! Woop.

After the last post I decided to go over in my head all the bands/artists I've quoted in my titles, and couldn't remember a couple so I stuck them in quotation marks and then into google, and let me tell you, if you google "you found a word to explain it", the only result is the post with that name, here, on my lovely blog.

But if anyone knows, let me know. Also, "Haven't you noticed I've been hanging around?", I can't remember or find that either. I think it could be The Shins. Who are playing at Reading/Leeds this year btw, weeeeee!

get your money back at the door

Today is the day of the London Marathon. I'm not running. I'm not watching, either on television or in person. I'm in my room writing in Russian in order to be able to speak for five minutes about something I doubt I could talk about in English for that long.

Right now, in a blast from the past, I'm listening to Those in Favour; they have a 4-point link to the song lyric above. A little while ago I was getting a bit frustrated with that particular titular restriction I'd placed on myself. If I stopped however, I would have most probably had to go back and re-name all my posts in retrospect, or alternately become suddenly as a cool as all of the songwriters I used. The trouble with that is, even if I were able to, I'd also be piling pretension and cringe on my head.

Poetry is indecipherable so no one can scorn or laugh

anything at all to break the silence

I was going to post but I got distracted by facebook and am now going to Hannah's for tea. So, I'll do it later.

if it's going to end then let it end in flames

I'm still writing the essay about Eastern Europe. I started off so efficiently, punching out 900 solid words in an hour and bit. It was a respite after the essay that I couldn't understand last Sunday. I understood this. I was amazing.

I'm now stuck at 1221, thats just 321 in a week and bit, and I don't understand it anymore.

But the essay I got a first is the one that I didn't understand last week.

So, maybe this is a good sign.

We'll see, won't we.

under and under and under and under

I spent 6 hours procrastinating on Friday, went home for the weekend with no books, on purpose so I could have a genuine, enforced mental break. Still had "need...to...work" in the back of my mind but at least I did stuff that wasn't working, rather than sitting down to work and getting up 3 hours later having achieved nothing. I actually felt like doing some Russian at 5pm on Sunday, but couldn't, due to no books. I finally got back at 11pm but had no motivation at all. One cause of my work troubles is poor light. When I'm a grown up I'm going to spend all my money on exceedingly bright bulbs. And huge towels. I thought about going to sleep early to get up early, sunlight is the best light. But I didn't. I just can't get up if the only thing to make me is self-inforced RUS'. I called procrastinated some more. I called Ben. I slept. Got up at 10 this morning. Have spent about four hours procrastinating today, but I got a first in an essay I got back that I thought would be a diaster. This morning I wrote some words in Russian about my future aspirations and dreams "In five years time I will be independent. Perhaps I will be married." But then that means I won't be independent, but will have chosen to be dependent. Thus, asserting my independence.

slow, slow me down

Two posts in a day - crazy. But this is actually the fourth post that has been brewing in me, so I thought I'd better post before I forget it like I did number 3. Number two is scribbled down to work on later. And actually, number five is coming too, but I don't think this is the right place. And 3 per day is just far far too keen.

I'm writing an essay - "was there a blueprint for Communist takeover in Eastern Europe". It's interesting, but almost too interesting. There's too much to say, there's too much to read, and no one agrees with anyone else, because it's too complicated. What is a blueprint anyway? I think it was first forwarded as a concept by Seton-Watson, but I haven't actually read his book. It's like two and half inches thick, what I really need is a short journal article that quotes it. And where is East Europe? Does the concept only exist as a result of the Communist government in these nations? If so, then how, in 1945, before the Communist legacy had begun, how could Germany be considered "East"? It's not "East" by today's standards. Anway, I'm half way through using an argument I formulated after doing some reading, that the countries are all too different and Stalin's actions too changeable for there to have been a real clear plan, but now I'm thinking I might want to change my argument. Essentially, Stalin wanted Berlin. I think. Why did he create "puppet states" in Hungary, Bulgaria, Romania, Poland, Czechoslovakia and East Germany, but not in Yugoslavia or Albania, or Greece, Turkey or Finland, or even Italy, Austria or Sweden, afterall, they are as far East as Germany. But actually it has been argued that in Poland at least the puppet state was a 'failure' and that Polish communism wasn't Soviet communism. (Davies, I'll give a proper reference if you want) But that's all by the by. Lenin said that whoever controlled Berlin controls Germany, and who controls Germany controls Europe, Stalin just wanted justification to stay in Berlin. That's why the paths of all the other countries were a mishmash; they were just a path to the Reichstag. Maybe.

Why didn't Stalin get involved in China? And Yugoslavia had their own revolution too, if Stalin sought to create communism firstly by political means, as Seton-Watson writes, why didn't he use it.

I don't know. Clearly. This post has descended into chaos, just like the policy making in Eastern Europe did. So I'll be offskii.

this is a wasteland now

I am in a fuzzled-confused mood.

I just spent an hour reading about the number and type of museums in the former Soviet Republics, and how popular they are in each of the republics. All in Russian. What am I here for?

I just went to Tesco and bought, from the reduced section, 400g of strawberries for 74p, and a loaf of bread for 28p and some organic rocket, watercress and spinach salad because the friendly yellow sticker makes it OK to spend £2.34 on stuff that will go off before Monday on the day before I'm going home, so unlikely to make the most of it.

I also bought some seafood sticks, I haven't had them for a while. I just took them out of the wrapper. I'm going to turn into an Independent "war against waste" campaigner for a second. They are vac-packed. But then in another plastic wrapper with "Tesco" written on it and a picture of the sea. Why oh why and what for? Nevermind. The other thing I noticed was that between the vac-pack and the pack-pack there was some condensation/wetness. Which really smells of mould. Even more so than my tap water tastes of mould.

I can't wait for Yorkshire Water.

i never knew i'd know much more than this

for several weeks now
their legs have been
broken
like biscuits crumbs
stuck
in corners in the tin
shaken
dropped on the patio
cracked open
blowing away in the storm
that tears down the trees
they lay down in the mud

how long can they wait?
can they be trees again?
or will their legs drag
hard across the floor
forever?

for several hours now
the icecream van has played a tune
to call us
to worship there
at the altar with soft scoop and sauce

pour it on our heads
to stick down our hair
and fill up our eyes

we can't see
it tastes too sweet

shall we wait here in the mud?
can we tell where chocolate ends?

far away we could still run
but with no eyes
and no legs

the torsos lay discarded on the ground

you and i are both away

I'm sorry for wasting time.
I'm sorry for not doing it when it occured to me the first time.
Or the second time.
Or the third.
Fourth?


More than that

from the non-specific north west

This wasn't what was originally on my mind as I came to blog just now, but I just wrote North West and now need a quick, mild rant before I can continue.

We did a practice listening exam in Russian the other day, and one of the questions was a weather forcast, and we had to write down what kind of weather, and temperature it was going to be in several areas of Russia, which we also had to work out and write down. One area was South West Siberia, and one was East Siberia, but I didn't have much time, so I wrote down 'SW Siberia' and 'E Siberia', and got marked wrong. She put a question mark next to the letters and gave me no marks. Seriously. Is that not clear enough? Aparently not, I'll just have to remember for the actual exam.

Anyway. Today is an absolutely glorious day. I am wearing jeans and a vest top and a t shirt and it's warm and sunny and bright :) I swear it was like this in May last year. I am not, however, getting my hopes up. I am ready for wind and rain. But I don't want it.

I super-cheery-happy today. The sun has helped.

But also, yesterday I got up after one. Today I got up at 7.20am and by 1.15, about when I got up yesterday, I had done the following things :

• Dressed
• Brushed teeth
• Walked to church
• Had church
• Walked back from church
• Read Luke 13
• Cooked and prepared and ate a real meal
• Finished the essay I don't understand - an addition of 750 words
• Called Ben
• Read for an hour
• Wrote another 100 or so words for the essay that I do understand
• Went downstairs to do laundry, but discovered all the machines were taken
• Had a shower
• Got dressed again
• Went to talk to Maria

She was still asleep. In this case, the early bird has caught the worm. And she's not letting it wriggle away.

take notice, take interest

the lightbulb flickers
and the moth eats.

"farewell, begone"
say he who sits
upon the case
that stands upright
in the gutter,

"the mountain is falling,
and the road is flat,
but the terrible train
will crash on the bridge"

and so the pictured thought rises in the mist.

i am lost.
it is gone.
you won't find it down in the sea,

for there
the mermaids laugh,
and the
fishes glitter,
but no one finds
their home

you change your mind on monday

I've been to Edinburgh.
I wish my life was as friendly.
Real.
Clean.
Settled.
Interesting.
Mountainous.
Good.

your nightmares only need a year or two to unfold

Jo Whiley just played The Shins on radio one, that's the third time I've heard her do it in 3 weeks. I don't know whether to be pleased or not. I love them. I wish them success. If they get onto the playlist and therefore get played every four hours I won't get sick of them. But I hate the way Radio One tells us what to like. If they get really popular will it be even more impossible to get a ticket? Or will it be better to start with because they'll actually play in the UK more than twice a year? Will they "sell out"? Will the public like the crap songs the best? Will everyone continue to love them, and will they continue to be big when they have gone crap? I liked "I bet you look good on the dancefloor", but let's be honest, the Artic Monkeys are crap. But they're "big", Radio One gets artificially excited about their new single, tells us to like it and a nation of truckies and beauty therapist obey.

you found a word to explain it

Those who are dominated by the sinful nature think about sinful things, but those who are controlled by the Holy Spirit think about things that please the Spirit. So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. For the sinful nature is always hostile to God. It never did obey God’s laws, and it never will. That’s why those who are still under the control of their sinful nature can never please God.

You have no obligation to do what your sinful nature urges you to do. For if you live by its dictates, you will die. But if through the power of the Spirit you put to death the deeds of your sinful nature, you will live. You have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.

Thought of the day : There are so many more clothing options when warmth and/or wet isn't an issue.

counting your minutes by a clock that's flashing eights

I have a rather spherical satsuma. Look.

finding out what you're called and repeating your name

I'm learning items of clothing in Russian. Or to be more honest, we did an hour on it, and now have approx 35 new words to learn. Anyway, "Mekhovye sapogi" means "fur boots", but written in Cyrillic "sapogi" looks like "canozu" which looks like "canoe" so whenever I write "fur boots" I accidentally, with the watersports theme on my mind write "fur boats". Also, along the same theme, "fur hat" is "shapka" which in Cyrillic looks like "wanka".

It's just funny, isn't it?

you haven't laughed since january

Or, you haven't written anything half-good since January.

The other day, in Russian class, we got asked, as oft we do "Kem ty khochesh' ctat' posle okonchanuia universiteta?". As usual, I answered "Ia ne znaiu kem ia khochu ctat' posle okonchanuia universiteta". Polly Jones, the demi-legend, replied "Betty, ty khochesh' ctat' pisatelem?". I replied "niet". But actually maybe I do.

Maybe I want to be the sort of person who can not only let their th0ughts escape their well-meaning but essentially imprisoning mind but indeed organise them on paper in such a clear and eloquent fashion that for years and decades to come they are read, devoured and treasured. Maybe I want my thoughts to be universally loved, hated, accepted, despised. Maybe I want academics to spend their post-Doc years debating which translations convey to the non-English reader the intricacies of my style. Maybe I want people to find solace in my words. Maybe I want to be quoted in times of national distress, or national joy. Maybe I want to contribute.

Thought of the day : Sometimes the thing that is there is hidden from view.

every single word is plagarised

Three thoughts

1. From the picture below, I still have the beans left.
2. Lynx - Spray more, get more women running away from you, holding their noses in disgust.
3. I don't want to go home.

foreign flowers tied to a brick

I got back to uni on Saturday. I had £35 in cash and decided that was definitely enough to last all week. And so the week began.



Then, somehow, it was Monday, and I had £10. And I was still very determined to make it last. Until I realised the following things :

a. I would be going to the pub post-CU on Monday.

b. I would be going to life group in Fopp cafe on Tuesday, and therefore have to purchase something.

c. I was meeting Jamie, Siobbhan, Rachel, Lydia etc for coffee on Wednesday afternoon, and again, would have to buy myself a coffee.

d. I really needed some fruit.

e. I would end up going to pub again on Thursday after Koinonia. And I'd want another lemonade!



I wanted to do all these things, but realised that my cupboard really was quite bare, so have eaten my way down to the last inch of milk, scraping of marmite, portion of porrrige, 2 eggs, 2 apricots, and 4 slices of bread. It's now Thursday and tonights trip to the pub is the only thing I envise that I will need/want to spend money on before Saturday. I had £3.61 left from the expense above. I only need £2 for the pub later, so went to tesco armed with £1.61. Woop!



As I entered the store Eilidh remarked "You're getting a basket, that's optimistic!" And I bought this :

And I have 6p change! I'm actually quite pleased with my achievement.

in the attic of my parents house

I'm actually not in there at all.

I got back to London yesterday after three weeks of Christmas holiday joy that felt like at least two and a half months. I was at uni, and then I was back home, and it seemed like uni was somehow a season of my life that was over, but it seems that no. I was wrong. The holidays were a season, they're over.

Despite this initial melancholy, I'm happy being back. In a way, it's like last term was a practice and now I'm starting again for real with the benefit of experience behind me.

It'll be interesting to see how long this lasts.