So the spontaneous wireless network that was in my parents' house? Yeah, it's gone. And I hate my parents' computer. So unless the wireless network comes back, I don't know that I'll be posting again (unless I disconnect the modem from my parent... hm... nope... too much work, and my mom'd freak - she freaks when I defrag her hard drive, for pete's sake) until I get back to school (January 7).

Happy New Year to you All, and all the best in 2006.

Ok, it's not as gruesome as it sounds. Honestly. I'm working on a paper that involves 204 18th-century infanticide trials, so yay for cheery Christmas reading!

But things are good here at home. Not much has changed, really, in the last 3 months, except that Tim Horton's got rid of its English Toffee Cappuccino. Bastards. Oh, and they're really developing the barren patches of land to the north with such fun commercial enterprises as a 7-11 and a Costco (7-11 link included for the benefit of any non-North American readers).

So what have I done since I got home? Not one hell of a lot. And that's the way I like it.

After I went to sleep on the evening of the 22nd, I slept for something like... 15 hours all together, BUT I woke up a few times... Like at 4:30 a.m. local time, since my body was telling me it was 11:30 in the morning in England... and then again at 8:30 local time, since my body was really trying to tell me that I was wasting the whole bloody day... Finally got up after noon sometime. Spent a few hours putzing around, ate some soup and crackers and cheese, and went to work. I went to FEP really ridiculously early - I got there about 5:15 and didn't have to start work until 6:30. BUT, as I knew I would, I spent about 1/2 an hour chatting with my Park Host-y buddies, then some time just wandering around, got changed into my costume and spent some more time chatting with Interpreter buddies, then went and took up my place in R-House.

HOLY CRAP, I miss FEP. Seriously. I was about to start crying when I got there. I got to see almost everyone from the summer that I wanted (a few unavoidable absences with people doing things like going off on cruises for Christmas, or visiting their families). And then Llewellyn and I went out for coffee afterwards (ok, I had dinner, because I hadn't eaten since 3 in the afternoon and it was now 11 p.m.).

Christmas Eve was the same old Christmas Eve. Started to watch the Pope giving mass on TV (I'm not even remotely spiritual in any way, shape, or form, but I like old things, tradition, and old-school church music, so midnight mass is the way to go - especially when it's on at 4 p.m. here!). So the station on which I'm watching it gets about halfway through, then decides that the news was more important. Buggers. Had dinner, went to bed. Seriously. Things would be all right if my body stopped trying to wake me up at 4:30 in the morning all the time.

Christmas Day... fairly uneventful. Boxing Day, fairly uneventful. Although I went to a friend's place for their annual BDay open house, and bent down to take off my shoes. When I straightened up again, there was this white ball of fluff in my face. They got a new puppy! It was so cute. When I find the energy I'll install the software for my new camera and post a pic.

Yesterday I went to the mall. Malls are scary. But, honestly, it wasn't too bad. The walkway in West Edmonton Mall is actually wider than some of the streets in York, so things were nowhere near as bad as I remember. Waits for changerooms were kinda nasty, but that's to be expected. Then Beaner and I went for dinner at the Olive Garden. Again, the wait was nasty, but there were seats at the bar, so we Bellini'd it up whilst we were waiting.

I woke up aroun 9:30 this morning. Promising. Maybe my body is figuring out this whole time zone switch thing. Yay! I've been working on my paper since. Not so Yay. But, it has to be done. And it has to be done in two weeks, so I need to get my ass in gear. So. Back to the 18th century with me.

So. Yesterday was the shittiest day _ever_. Why, you ask? *Warning, I swear a lot in this post!*

• I woke up at 4:30 a.m. Yup. 4:30 a.m. I had my route all sussed out to get to Heathrow from my friend's place by 7 a.m. to actually check in for my flight on time for once.
• Catch the DLR. I'm on time. BUT I get to the underground to switch onto the Circle Line and discover that I've JUST missed the circle line train I was supposed to catch. So when's the next one? IN HALF AN HOUR. Fuck.
• Catch the tube, catch the Heathrow Express, get to Heathrow, I'm in the queue to check in, I'm only a few minutes late after all, and they tell me my carry-ons are too heavy. Fuck. So I check one, praying life will be all right, as it's the bag that has all my Christmas gifts and such in it.
• Flight from London to Toronto was surprisingly smooth. Get to TO, pick up my bags, go through customs, re-check my bags, grab a bottle of Coke, go sit down at my connecting gate, flip open my laptop to do some work, and PSSSSHHHT! I open the bottle of Coke, which was apparently having some pressure issues, and it's everywhere. EVERYWHERE! On my laptop, on me, on the book I'd just bought. Luckily a kind soul sitting in the same area went and found me some stuff to wipe it up with, and I had a couple of hours to let my laptop just sit and dry out. There doesn't seem to be any damage, except for a slight stickiness to the keys.
• Get on the flight to Toronto. Looking forward to it. That book I bought is good (actually finished it all in one go on the flight), it's a relatively short flight... and then I look around. I'm sandwiched in the midst of about 5 children, all under the age of 2 years. And they took it in turns to cry throughout the flipping flight. Once we actually got underway, that is. We ended up sitting on the flipping Tarmac for an hour and 15 minutes because someone lost paperwork about the cargo hold. Unimpressed, I must say.
• Finally get home at 5:30ish. Factor in the time difference. That was 12:30 a.m. London time. Yup. I've been up for 20 hours. Now factor in the time it took to retrieve my luggage, drive to my parents' place... I was fuckin' knackered last night. Forced down some dinner (because Air Canada makes you PAY for your food on flights scheduled for less than four hours, bastards), had a bath, went to bed.

Woke up this morning, though, and things were looking slightly better. I woke up at 4:25 a.m. local time. BUT, I fell asleep again until 8:30. That's, like, 11 hours of sleep last night. And I'll probably have a nap later today, as my work at Fort Edmonton is going until 10 p.m. tonight - that's 5 in the morning, England time. And I need to find that No-Doze I bought when I was working nights. Yup.

BUT, I checked out my laptop, and as I said, except for slightly sticky keys, everything seems to be in fine working order (THANK GOD!). AND! I'd forgotten to turn off the wireless detector (you can do that on my laptop as a power saver thing) and think my next-door neighbours have a wireless network in their house, because somehow I'm connected to the internet without any cables and without my parents' having wireless internet. Mmmhmm. That's right. It's slow, but it's here. Internet in my room! Without paying for it! Score, baby!

So I'm off to wrap presents now, find my Christmas cards, etc.

Maybe it'll actually start feeling like Christmas now.

Warning: The following link may contain imagery that is difficult for men to handle. But it's flipping hilarious for most of us women. There is some questionable language.

This was written by naamah_darling over at livejournal.

Click here:

THE RANT

So. As I mentioned last post, we had a handbell gig this weekend. At Darlington Railway Museum, where they were having a "Victorian Christmas".

Ha!

I'm spoiled. And I know I'm spoiled. But seriously, it was the LEAST Victorian Christmas I've ever seen, unless you count the trains from the 1800s. None of the staff even TRIED! My handbell group was the most Victorian thing there, and honestly, well, after Adele and FEP, my expectations are pretty much sky high. So imagine my shock and horror when I was handed a costume made from synthetic materials and with a zipper up the back. Mmmhm. Yup. Reminded me a bit of an 80s prom dress, but that's ok. I wore the boots, though. I even took off my watch.

And once my inner cringe was over, I managed to have fun for the rest of the day. The place wasn't heated very well (Thank god for the shawl!), but we played/sang/whatever for 5 hours straight, and it was definitely fun. Went for fish and chips afterwards, and had tea at one of the girls' houses in the evening and played silly board games. It was great!

And now I need to nurse the slight bruise I developed playing four-in-hand - have you ever had a bruise between your two fingers? Most awkward place for a bruise ever, but hey, it was the result of a fun day - I can deal.

After two and a half months of taunting, teasing, running around like an idiot, etc., I finally found them. They have been staring at me from the website, from the occasional shop window, but they've never been quite right. But today, completely by accident, I finally found them. Yes, that's right. I found them. And they're mine. A bit of a splurge, but I don't care. I can quasi-justify it.

That's right. I am now the proud owner of some nearly-perfect Victorian-style boots. Ignore the zipper up the sides. Seriously. Just ignore it. I mean, my boots this summer had a plastic 'spur' on them and green plastic-y stuff on the soles. These ones... not a bit of plastic in sight. And they're rather dressier. We're giving a hand bell concert this Saturday, and we're apparently borrowing victorian costumes from somewhere... and I'm working one evening back at FEP over Christmas... so there's my justification. They're black, they're shiny, they're gorgeous, and they're mine. I think I'm in love.

Oh dear.

Had Latin class tonight. And much as I'm thrilled that Rudolph's nose was so lustrous it would make you want to tell everyone (although I gotta give the teacher credit for attempting to keep us amused), there are more interesting things out there. Like this meme I just found:

10 random things you might not know about me
- I speak French well enough to be considered almost completely bilingual by the Canadian government.
- I'm absolutely addicted to "hint of lime" nacho chips
- While I can't be bothered doing it just for myself, I am, in fact, a good cook/baker.
- I have a massive collection of stuffed animals living in a huge trunk in my parents' garage.
- I'm fortunate enough to have found the Ladies of Lallybroch online and have consistently visited them for more than five years now.
- By the time my year here is over, I will have been to Scotland at least 4 times
- I was once on the TV show HiQ - which was a quiz show for junior high students
- I have a tattoo
- I haven't seen my grandmother in... 3 or 4 years now.
- I keep Spice Girls and other useless pop music on my MP3 player to jog to.

9 places I’ve visited
-Venice
-Paris
-London
-Switzerland
-Germany
-Belgium
-Mexico
-Scotland
-Disney World

8 ways to win my heart
-Make me laugh
-Cook for me
-Just hold me
-Do something nice for me without a reason
-Give me a hug
-Teach me something without making me feel like an idiot
-Be kind
-Listen to me

7 things I want to do before I die
-Become Dr. Kate
-See Australia and New Zealand
-Learn to play the organ and/or harp
-Get a job I really love
-Find someone to love
-Take singing lessons again
-Donate a lot of money to charity

6 things I’m afraid of
-Heights
-Bridges
-Traffic in Europe
-Being alone
-Losing someone I love
-Dying and having no one care

5 things I don’t like
-Avocado. Blech.
- Negativity. Everyone's allowed to have a shite day, but all the time? Can't deal with it.
- Depression. It's a debilitating illness and I seem to be feeling it a little more acutely lately.
- Green tea
- The color pink

4 ways to turn me off
- Come across as arrogant and 'holier-than-thou'
- Nasty/negligent personal hygiene
- Show violence towards the weak
- Attempt to show off how much alcohol you can hold

3 things I do every day
- Read blogs
- Check email
- Sleep

2 things that make me happy
- The thought that it's now only 10 days until I board the plane home
- Knowing people care

1 thing on my mind right now
- The paper I should be working on but have so far neglected horrendously.

Here it is, December 12, and it definitely does not feel like December. It hasn't been cold, there's no snow, and, get this, there are roses blooming. Mmhm, that's right. Roses. I don't get it. It's December 12. I may have already mentioned that, but my mind is really having difficulties getting over the fact that there may, just possibly, actually be someplace in the northern hemisphere where there are roses that bloom in December. This pic is not one of my own, and the roses I saw on my walk into town today were rather a lighter shade of pink, but still. I mean, it's roses. In December. I'm from a place where December looks rather more like this:

This, ladies and gentlemen, is winter. Not roses! Ok, granted, it's technically NOT winter just yet - still 10 days to go, but nonetheless, I'm feeling a distinct lack of Christmas enthusiasm (Christmas still feels like it's months away), and I have a feeling that there are several reasons for this.

1. I have no Christmas decorations in England. I was unable to pull out my Santa pillow, put up my Christmas lights and/or little tree.

2. People don't decorate as much for Christmas around here. I mean, I don't expect a scene out of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation or anything, but I've only seen one or two houses with Christmas lights up. That being said, the centre of town is looking lovely and understated:

Congratulations to the people of York for not going totally,
completely and utterly freaking nuts with their Christmas decorations - and not a cheesy plastic santa in sight! Yay!

And while my camera doesn't necessarily capture the subtle beauty of the Christmas decorations in this medieval town, then at least you get a bit of a sense of what I'm dealing with here.

Right, so back to the whole point.

1. I have no decorations
2. Few other people have any decorations
3. The weather is decidedly not conducive to any mental associations with Christmas in my mind
4. I don't have a television and have not been subjected to nasty Christmas ads
5. I rarely listen to the radio and have not been subjected to bad Christmas music by the pop star du jour.
6. Didn't get to the Butterdome this year

In short, my regular Christmas routine of exam panic and mug after mug of hot chocolate whilst studying has been completely interrupted, and as a result, I am feeling decidedly un-Christmassy.

Argh.

I did it! I finished my first ever knitting project (well, the first one that was more complicated than a dishcloth). I did Mittenettes! Yay me!

Mmhmmm... that's right. I rock!

Yup, that's right. Homesickness hit this weekend. I think it was because I was away from my home away from home and hit with a real dose of foreign touristy stuff. But all day yesterday and today, I've been feeling like absolute shite, and wishing I could just pick up and go back home. Don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying my program. I'm well aware that this is the opportunity of a lifetime and that I'll be glad I've done it when I'm done... but right now I would kill for an electrical socket that looks like the ones back home... I would kill to see French on the label of my Canada Dry (which, yes, they do sell here!) Ginger Ale... I would kill to run grab a cup of coffee at the 24 hour Tim's... and the list goes on.

I generally pride myself on being one of the least emotional, not-so-homesick people in a group, but I'm alone here, mostly, and it's been two months - the longest I've ever gone without seeing someone from a 'previous life' - friends/family - has been a week or two, and the longest I've ever been out of Canada was a month.

So I spent most of yesterday evening bawling. I'm serious. I even went to class today, and I thought I'd done a pretty good job of covering up - although my nose is red because I have a cold and have blown my nose raw (stupid Kleenex) - and one of my classmates told me I looked... what was the word she used... draggy... in the sense of slow, lethargic, tired. Yup. That'd be me. Sniffly to begin with, so luckily I was able to hide most of my in-class sniffles with tissues, leaving my classmates to assume that it was just the cold (I was only about to cry once in class, and I managed to avoid it with only a slight watering of the eyes).

I want to blame it on the fact that I've cut my meds (for those of you who don't already know this, I suffer from borderline clinical depression and have been on meds for 3.5 years now) - but the cut was towards the beginning of the summer and things are only getting bad now. So, nope, it's just me being 'weak' (in my own personal estimation*) and finally succumbing to what I was hoping I'd manage to avoid. I actually got to the point yesterday where I started seriously looking for jobs in Canada because I didn't want to come back so badly. But thanks to the lovely ladies of an internet community to which I belong, I've had some moral support and am feeling slightly better - and it's less than 20 days now until I fly home! And god only knows, by the end of my couple of weeks at home, I'll probably be ready to come back here to England.

*This is generally why I don't see counselors. I hate admitting that I'm anything less than strong, stable and good to go. So I guess this blog is sort of a quasi-counselor vent session-type thing.

Sorry to leave you all on such a negative note, but hopefully I'll have good things to write in the near future.

And I have photos. Unfortunately there's a lot of them, so it was easier to post them on Kodak. Go check them out!

HERE

I will write a real post again at some point in the near future. I promise.

Yay me!

Just wanted to let y'all know that in spite of the roaring cold I seem to have develolped, I'm off to Edinburgh for the weekend. Pics and other such fun when I return!

Yes, folks, I finally managed to get my hands on some properly-sized knitting needles, and am playing with the yarn that Adele spun for me! Yay! This whole double-pointed knitting-in-the-round thing threw me for a loop though (pun sortof intended - I typed that, immediately realized how punny it was, and decided to go with it anyway). I'm having a b**ch of a time finding wooden needles in this town, and had to special order the size I needed. But, it's done, and I'm creating a project! Yay! It's been so long... nearly 2 months since I did anything crafty, and I haven't sat down to knit or crochet since the end of August (running around a movie set trying to find the security guards who are either asleep or useless and/or patrolling the damn set yourself BECAUSE the guards are asleep and/or useless isn't exactly conducive to getting anything done).

So here's what I've got so far, in all its blurry glory (I still can't figure out how to make this damn camera do closeups, or get the color right, for that matter):

Eight rows of rounded goodness.... and just ignore the geekiness of the reading material in the background (unless you, too, are a geek and are interested - it's David Starkey's "Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII").

Oh, and yes, I _did_ in fact go see Harry Potter, and loved every minute of it. I had thoroughly resigned myself to the fact that you can only fit so much into 2 hours of movie, and was pleasantly surprised at how they'd managed to pull that off.

Although not entirely. In fact, the radio star is sitting here, typing away on her blog. Ok, well, perhaps not a radio star, but I did get on live BBC Yorkshire radio today. Mmmhm. That's right. Me.

As mentioned below, the York Colleges Guild of Bell Ringers handbell group went out busking today to raise money for an MS hospice (haven't counted the change yet, but here's hoping we did ok - we went for about two hours before it started to pour rain, at which point it was pointless - couldn't see the music, the bells were getting wet, etc.) at an event in town called Saint Nicholas' Fayre. We were only a little ways into it when this guy wearing a BBC shirt, headset, and carrying a microphone wanders up to us and asks if he can do a radio spot, since it's all about Christmas and handbells are such a Christmas-y sort of thing.

Sure, no problem. We appoint Emma, our quasi-leader, to do the talking, let the dude attempt to play with the handbells, and THEN he asks how he did. He shoves the microphone in the face of one of my co-ringers, who gives him a six out of ten, and then in MY face (I was slightly more generous. Gave him 7 out of 10, considering he was attempting to play whilst staying in contact with the studio, holding a microphone, etc.). The rest of the conversation went something like this:

BBCDude: You're not from around here, are you?
Me: No, I'm from Canada
BBCD: Ah, have you been here long? How long are you going to be here?
Me: I'm here for a year studying at the University
BBCD: Right, and did you do this sort of thing at home.
Me: Mmmhm, I did.

So there you have it. My 20 seconds of fame, ladies and gentlemen. Oh, and it turns out this spot was live, so suddenly I'm glad I've had practice with Lorraine Mansbridge (whose eyebrows are drawn on, by the way) - and I didn't even have to look good for this one! I've been in the media a ridiculous amount this past year (some of you may catch "History of Science" on Access back home - I'm in about 1/2 the episodes, plus that FEP video thing - did it ever air? - and on Lorraine's spot... I feel special.).

Oh, and I taught my new British friends a new word today. We got winter hats with the YCG logo on them... and I said it. And they looked at me blankly.

Tuque. Pronunciation: 'tük, 'tyük. Function: noun. Etymology: Canadian French, from French toque -- a warm knitted usually pointed stocking cap

The end.

I don't know what the weather's problem is today, but it certainly seems to have something stuck up its nether-regions. It started out quite nicely. Gorgeous. Sunny. Lovely. Then I took a closer look out my window. Windy. Fine. I can handle that. Just means its a little chillier. So then I leave for class. The wind picks up, the rain comes down... on my side of campus, anyway. Just off to the northeast there's this lovely rainbow, indicating one hell of a lot of sunshine off to the southwest. And apparently it was hailing towards the city centre. Go figure.

It's still windy. The wind is howling outside my window... well, if you want to get technical, and I do*... it's actually the wind causing the air pressure between my comfy warm room and outdoors to fluctuate rapidly through my poorly sealed windows, making one hell of a lot of noise. It's quite impressive, actually.

Attended a lecture last night on Republicanism in late 16th-century literature. It was slightly less boring than it sounds, to be honest, and there was free tea and cookies, so how could I pass it up? Actually, I would gladly have passed it up, as I was supposed to be giving a concert with the rest of the handbell ringers - BUT it was either attend the lecture or read a 360-odd page book for discussion in a seminar in the near future. And, yes, sadistically enough, I did in fact actually look at the library's website to see if I could get my hands on the book. It said it was being held for pickup. Which means that whoever was supposed to be picking up the book could ostensibly have it for at least a week. I requested it anyway, not thinking I'd ever get my hands on it before the aforesaid seminar... and when I woke up this morning I had an email from the library people saying 'come and get it'. I was slightly pissed off. I mean, not that I WANTED to read a 360-odd page book, but whoever was scheduled to have the book before me obviously was NOT serious about it. *sigh* So I missed a handbell concert.

The plan is this weekend to take the old set of hand bells (god, they're terrible... but they suit the purpose) out busking to raise money for an MS hospice here in York. I feel fairly good about that - especially since I know a few people with MS and know what it can do to a person. Good cause, in my mind.

And we may go see the new Harry Potter movie afterwards! Yay! (Yes, I'm 23 years old and am still stupidly excited about going to see Harry Potter).

Now, I don't know if Amazon.ca or Amazon.com do this (I'm guessing they do...) but Amazon.co.uk has started making random (well, not really random - based on my previous search terms and the like) reading recommendations to me when I log on. Which is nice... sort of... but I usually go there with a purpose - purchasing textbooks and the like - rather than just looking for random things to read. But, hey, they've managed to come up with the odd thing that I've seen in stores and that piqued my interest, so maybe it's not all bad?

And I may have to book a massage for when I get home over Christmas (where such things are cheaper). I don't know whether it's the way I've been sitting at my desk or what, but my...hm...whatever that muscle that runs from your shoulder to your shoulder blade and helps you do such things like stretch your arms and shrug your shoulders (anatomist, I am not).... that muscle, anyway, on my left shoulder, feels like it's had the crap beaten out of it. I haven't been this uncomfortable in quite some time. Ah well.

And that concludes this long and rambling post for today.

*Yes, that WAS a shout out to all my '85 friends. The thought formed in my head and I just had to go with it.

Sorry for my relative silence lately. I spent Saturday evening nursing a massive headache... and continued nursing it through Sunday - I seem to have experienced some of those 'rare' side effects of either my flu vaccine or my MMR shot. Go figure.

This isn't going to be a cheery post, so feel free to stop reading and go find something more uplifting should you wish.

In the intervening time since my last post, I have discovered that I am, in fact, not alone in my sense of sadness, disillusionment, lack of direction, and uncertainty. I wrote below about what happened when I was talking with my buddy M. But yesterday in a chat with one of my classmates over coffee when we should have been talking about a presentation we were supposed to be giving today, I discovered that I'm not the only one who has no real direction in my life, and I'm not the only one that feels, in spite of the fact that I'm smart and have finished two university degrees, that I haven't accomplished anything worth note.

THOUSANDS of people get university degrees each year. I was listing off my talents mentally the other day and realized I haven't got anything that thousands of people out there can't do better. I'm enjoying my time at school, enjoying my time abroad - I wouldn't trade it. But by the same token, I don't think I'm going to accomplish anything productive. All sorts of other people out there get MAs in History every single year. I'm banking on the fact that baby boomers are all going to have to retire at some point in the near future. But what if that isn't the case? Am I going to be stuck doing a job that has nothing to do with what I've spent the last 6 years of my life studying? Am I going to be stuck hating whatever it is I end up doing, but have no other option? Will I end up doing a PhD and getting a great history job, and yet become completely disillusioned with it? Will my dream end up being nothing like I expected, and completely shitty?

There was a mylar balloon floating in the lake today in the shape of Nemo and his Dad... slightly deflated, just floating there, both of them with these massive grins on their faces, adrift, lost in the lake. I'm battling with this feeling of being adrift, this uncertainty, and to paraphrase the magic 8-ball, outlook is grim.

And now, if you'll excuse me, I have several hundred pages of witchcraft trials to read...

I honestly shouldn't be whining. I'm from Canada, for god's sake. The temperature is still above 0 during the day here. I shouldn' t be complaining. At all. Really. But goddamn it, I'm cold. I think it's because I can see the lake freezing over outside my window. So I'm huddling here at my computer wrapped in an Ikea blankie that I'm so bloody grateful that I bought, wishing there was a way to seal up my drafty window, drinking tea. The end result being that I'm going to have to pee a lot... but what can ya do?

On a completely different note, since there is nothing exciting going on in my life at present (unless you count reading journal articles that are trying to come up with a good theory on why most witches were women without resorting to the usual feminist oppression crap or the marginalization theory... which I don't count at all), I was doing random web surfing for fun things. Like... It's Happy Bunny. And what did Kate find? Oh yes, folks. Heaven. There's an official shop based off the artist's website. AND, yes, you can CUSTOMIZE your t-shirts. It's too bad I'm rather leery of ordering clothing off the net - I'm never sure it'll fit me properly. I've found some really nice stuff lately that I'd love to have, but without being able to try it on... Well, anywho.

And last but not least, because I can't work in complete silence but find that music with words that I understand (ie: in English and French) and talk radio and that sort of thing completely distract me, I've taken to listening to Welsh and Gaelic radio. So you get cool music (esp. on the classical shows and the folk shows - totally conducive to studying) without the interruption of the announcer. Well, the announcer is still there, but I don't speak a word of Welsh or Gaelic... well... maybe a word... but that's about it.

Slainte!

So I went to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory tonight at the student cinema (basically a large lecture theatre with semi-comfy seats and all the fun of a 'smart' classroom back home, including movie projector that they soup up with massive speakers and such four times a week to show movies for cheap on campus... 2.50, in fact, which even by Canadian standards is less than going to see them in the theatre on a cheap Tuesday, so there ya go).

I was skeptical. Honestly. I mean, to me, the 1971 version (Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory) is the version I grew up with and that I love. But honestly, this one was an absolute blast! I laughed my ass off through the entire thing. I even got over my aversion to the fact that it wasn't Gene Wilder playing Willy Wonka. In fact, I really came to enjoy that evil glint in Johnny Depp's eye. Priceless. And the squirrels! Bwahahahaha!!!!!!

But I feel a strange, niggling certainty that Deep Roy is going to be known by a generation and perhaps many generations... as the Oompa Loompa, and not much else. *sigh*

I've sold out. The place where I get most of my groceries, Asda, is, yes, that's right, a subsidiary of Wal Mart. I knew it all looked too familiar.

I have been prodded and stabbed more this week than I think I've ever had to endure in this short a span of time ever. It starts with me going to get my flu shot. Although my lungs are mostly fine, people seem to think that because I have asthma (well-controlled, but it's there) I should really get one. They offer htem to me for free, in fact. Both here and back home. So I went to get the shot on Monday afternoon.

Stab number one, upper left arm.

And then I made the mistake of asking the nurse about all this mumps stuff that's been going around - they seem to think you need 2 mumps shots to be completely immune, and all the stuff I've been getting from the international office and such says that I really should have two mumps shots. She looks at me with a distinct frown on her face as if to say "really, what is the Canadian health authority thinking, not giving you two shots" when I explain to her that I've had MMR as a kid (that's Measles, Mumps and Rubella for all you folks who haven't been getting stabbed lately), and since then only a Measles booster - the series they gave me in grade 9. No mumps.

I leave the health centre having booked myself in to get a mumps shot today.

So today, I go in for my mumps shot.

Stab number two. Upper left arm.

Now, honestly, injections don't bother me that much. I've had tons more than the average person due to circumstances beyond my control (well, the tetanus shot I got after my axe wound could probably have been avoided, but whatever). But two in approximately the same spot in the same week? My arm is feeling strangely numb, rather sore, and the muscles hurt from my elbow to my neck. No amount of vanilla tea is going to make this feel better.

I now have a lot more respect for diabetics, a newfound awe that drug addiction is so powerful that people could WANT to subject themselves to this, and one hell of a lot of sympathy for voodoo dolls the world over.

One of the unfortunate things about this building that I live in is that I can hear my neighbors' phones ringing.

And dude below me's phone has been ringing for the last 5 minutes straight. Honestly... How many times does the person on the other end need to let the phone ring before they've determined that the person that they're calling isn't going to answer.

And as I finish this quick post, the phone continues to ring...

So last night, a bunch of the Bell Ringers went out for a social. We met outside the Spurriergate Centre, which is where most of the tower ringers practice on Sundays. I may have to go at some point, as every time I look into it, it looks more and more interesting. Dinner was at a lovely restaurant called Tuscany - good Italian food, not too expensive as far as British restaurants go, slightly snotty waiter, but good company all around. Met some new people (and at 23 was the oldest in the group! Eep!), had a good time. We then wandered the streets of York for a bit, since it was only about 7:30 and our ghost walk started at 8. If you Google "ghost walk york" you'll come up with a few sites that sort of give you the idea of what I'm talking about, although I wasn't able to find the particular tour we went on.

Our guide was everything a good tour guide should be (says Kate, speaking from personal experience - I realized about halfway through that I was analyzing his tour-giving technique and had to shake myself and just enjoy the bloody thing). Dressed in a waistcoat, tails and tophat, he looked very Victorian and creepy, but he catered to his audience, for sure. I think he realized fairly soon in (and perhaps shortly after my comment that I studied infanticide for fun) that he wasn't going to be able to creep out a group of people that spend a lot of their time in centuries-old churches, and he switched to a slightly more comedic mode. It was great! There was definitely a lot about ghosts, but I learned some of York's history as well, and laughed a lot.

It was then that I decided that if all else fails, I'll learn to do a British accent and lead ghost walks around. Yup. That's the plan. Not that the British government would ever give me a visa to do that, but, hey, they do ghost tours in Edmonton, too! Where else do I get to talk to all sorts of people about the joys of hanging, drawing and quartering? The fun of beheadings? The cheeriness of infanticides? The excitement of the plague? The thrill of murder? And have them enjoy every minute of it rather than boring them senseless or disgusting them to no end? Yup. When all the time and money I'm investing in this whole degree thing comes to nothing, then I'll become a ghost walk leader. Dress up in Victorian costume every night and scare the crap out of people. My life will be made. Come to think of it, that could be a fun part time job... wonder if any of the companies are hiring? Tee hee! Now I'm definitely going to have to look at that. Screw the temporary secretarial pool. I'm going scaring!

All right. So after our extremely entertaining ghost walk, we nipped off to the Golden Fleece for drinks. A friend from university back home actually told me I should pop in, given the chance, and I'm glad we did. Very nice little place, in fact. It was quite crowded, so we ended up on the patio, but with a glass of mulled wine it wasn't at all bad.

And on a completely random note, if I had $1000 extra kicking around, HERE is what I'd buy. Scroll down to A Mon Seul Desire. There are six tapestries in the series, as the website says - five of them depict the five senses, all of them have that distinctive look with the unicorn and the other animals. My favorite has been for a few years now, the one that depicts the sense of hearing, with its nifty portative organ and such... This one right here:

There's just something about them that I find so beautiful. Of course, this will all happen when I marry rich and find myself a manor house somewhere that I can have my dark-wood-panelled library in. Yup. That's right.

I just got off MSN after having a chat with an old buddy. Not that I've ever met him - he lived in New Zealand and we just chatted on and off through high school and (rather less) university. But last time we talked before this evening I was still in my apartment... so it has to have been damn near 2 years ago, I think. Somehow in those two years he's managed to move to Australia, spend a crapload of time in England, and has had a kid.

After absorbing my initial shock that M could possibly have a child, it made me start to wonder what the hell I'm missing. NO, I haven't suddenly done a complete about face and felt my biological clock start ticking away and decided I need to find the father of my child(ren) this very instant. Far from it. I still don't want kids (although the pic that M had up of his was really cute). Instead, I found myself wondering how everyone else has managed to grow up around me and I've somehow managed to miss it. At first it wasn't too bad - the only person I knew who was engaged was mormon, and let's face it, they have a tendency to get married early. But then this summer there was a massive explosion of engagements... S, E, A... and they're talking about having kids and they seem to have an actual plan.

I guess that was what threw me off so much. M has followed his dream. He wanted (as long as I've known him) to be a pilot. He's now in Australia flying a 19-seater in and out of the western countryside. He has a kid. It seems so very put together and... adult. I started bawling - fairly irrationally, I suppose, but still... It's been such a long time since I talked to the guy, and we used to talk on a fairly regular basis - I guess I was kinda mourning the loss of that, as well.

So I had to ask him whether or not he felt like an adult. He said no, which is reassuring... but somehow I feel like I'm missing a plan - a concrete destination, something I can work towards and fulfill. I was never one of those kids that always dreamed of being a doctor or a lawyer or a pilot or a policeman and KNEW what my dream was and could follow it... I'm still hazy on that front. I can't even imagine myself a year from now. I can't picture what I want to do or what I want to accomplish. I'm doing all these things (school, for example) to give myself something to do, and while I'm enjoying them, I have no idea what the eventual goal should be and I'm really missing that eventual goal tonight. A lot.

Or maybe I just haven't been getting enough sun.

1. The spider that lives outside my bedroom window is NOT in fact dead, as I thought he might have been. Whilst I have not yet blogged about this problem, outside my bedroom window seems to be prime spider lodging area, and at this particular moment in time, I can see 8 (yes, eight) spiders outside my window. I'm afraid to open my window until I find a giant can of Raid somewhere.

2. My world has been strangely silent since I posted my last post about my infanticide assignment. Does that mean you all really DO think I'm a psychopath just waiting to explode?

3. I got mail yesterday! Like, real mail. I got my History Today (*geek alert!!*) magazine, for once before the month was actually over! AND Llewelyn gets superbonus points for being the first person to actually send me really for real mail. I was grinning from ear to ear for the rest of the evening. Going to need to write her back. In fact, there are a lot of people to whom I owe at least a postcard, so I'd better get on that - probably this weekend. Maybe I'll actually walk into town tomorrow and go shopping for more postcards. And as some people can tell you, I can fit one hell of a lot of writing onto one average-sized postcard.

4. I've decided to apply for a position in the University's temporary secretarial pool - doesn't guarantee I'll get any work, but if I manage to get in and someone gets backlogged somewhere, then at least I can put in my 16 hours a week and actually earn some cash and not feel like I'm freeloading off my parents so much and/or still freeload but at least not feel guilty about going out for dinner with friends and such. By the same token, I've also put myself on a mailing list so that the psych and econ departments here will let me know if they're running experiments that they need paid guinea pigs for.

5. My arm is itchy.

6. My friend's sister down in London just had a kid, so she's an aunt all over again. Congrats, Riel and family!

7. When I go into town, I'm buying myself knitting needles. That's all there is to it. I've got this yarn just sitting in my drawer, taunting me... It's this supercool stuff that Adele got me. Yay Adele!!

8. I think that's it. For now.

**Ok, apparently that's NOT it, because, as Adele pointed out in the comments, she DID in fact spin me the yarn... and it's, like, superwicked awesome - it's all these fun colors and it's a merino-silk blend and yes, it's taunting me... even more so now that I've taken it out of the drawer in a futile attempt to get my camera to take a proper picture of it... First the batteries die on me (good thing I bought rechargable ones!) and then the camera doesn't have a close-up function, so I'm kinda screwed. Ah well. But the point is that it is super amazing yarn and that I didn't intend for an instant to downplay all the effort that goes into it. I mean, have YOU ever tried to spin (Adele, you don't count)? I have - it's hard!**

As if you didn't already know I was weird... THIS and THIS are the sort of thing that I may end up spending the rest of my life looking at and working on. And I find it intensely interesting. Does this make me a bad person? I sometimes wonder...

For some reason I've found myself randomly surfing blogs on the 'net and come across a few that are really quite entertaining and intriguing, but that have absolutely nothing to do with anything even remotely related to my life - one was a "Blog of Note" called "Ah yes, Medical School", and from other random "next blog" searches, I've managed to find some really entertaining/insightful ones, including a couple of doctors working for the NHS (Britain's healthcare system), like this guy HERE. It seems NHS is a frustrating bureaucracy. Go figure. Mind you, in the 1.5 months I've been here, I've been healthy (except that cold back in October), so haven't really had to take much stock of the NHS, except to get a few prescriptions refilled... but for all you Canadians back home that have had to shell out the dough for your prescriptions before your parents' insurance company will pay you back (IF you're still covered, being a student or under 21 or whatever)...

The NHS has something right!

Every prescription here is 6.50 (still haven't figured out how to do the pound sign on blogger... oy... the ONE problem with my North American keyboard). EVERY prescription. That means that my $90 (40 quid-ish) inhaler will be only about $15 here (6.50, like everything else). Now. That means that some incredibly cheap items you sometimes get overcharged for... BUT you have the option of bypassing that and telling the pharmacist that you just want to buy the bloody stuff yourself instead of going through NHS (obviously you have to have a sympathetic Dr or pharmacist (they call them 'chemists' here) that will tell you when it would be cheaper to buy it yourself, but, hey...). I'm loving this! Britain may be ridiculously expensive, but I'm saving money on ALL my prescriptions. It's great. Extra pint or two at the pub, I suppose.

Now I just need to find myself a good dermatologist... and given what these doctors and some of my flatmates are saying about the NHS, I'd better start digging around soon...

It's been one of those mornings - the one where the prospect of staying under the comfy duvet with my head cradled by the comfy pillow and surrounded by a pocket of duvet-created warmth seriously outweighs any potential benefits that might arise from getting up and being productive. But, I have sacrificed, and I'm up. I'm even dressed. But that's as far as it's gotten. I have an hour before I have to meet a classmate to discuss our presentation for our seminar tomorrow, so I should really be doing the practical things like washing my face, brushing my teeth, brushing my hair... but then I turn around and look at my bed and it just seems to be calling me... Perhaps a nap later this afternoon...

So I figured out why, on November 5 every year, the English celebrate the spectacular, complete and utter failure of Guy Fawkes and his cronies to blow up Parliament. For 250-odd years it was illegal for them not to! It was legislated shortly after that November 5 would be a day of thanksgiving for the deliverance of all those lords and the King and all that from the fiery inferno that would likely have been the result if Guy Fawkes had succeeded. It turns out that gunpowder, packed into barrels, and left in the vaulted basement of a building (such as, oh, say, Parliament) actually AMPLIFIES the power of the gunpowder. If Fawkes had succeeded, it would have been a mess on a scale like... well... they actually did a recreation of a similar explosion on an army ordinance testing field around here somewhere... and the shockwave was MASSIVE!

I can hear the fireworks from the city centre right now - they're too low for me to actually see from my room, but that's ok, as I'm going to another set later this evening.

Remember, remember the 5th of November
Gunpowder, treason and plot
I see no reason why gunpowder, treason
Should ever be forgot...

Yes, that's right folks. 330 years of ancestors.

I've always been interested in genealogy (the tracing of ones family tree back into the depths of time). And I've always known there was info floating around out there. Now. Until recently (yesterday, in fact), the furthest back any one branch of my family has managed to trace itself was the late 1700s, and we had a tendency to loose track of people after one or two generations in England.

But the miracles of the internet have prevailed. Whilst doing a surname search I ran across THIS SITE - the Essex area is where one branch of my ancestors came from. And I ran across a woman who had submitted 2 Surnames - that happen to be married to one another in my family tree. I got my hopes up (stupidly, as I thought they would soon be royally crushed), but for once my optimism paid off. One email later, I have managed to trace two branches of my family tree back a few more generations to the year 1679. How cool is that?

In other news, I attended a lecture at St. William's College, which is right near the Minster this evening about "Gunpowder, Treason and Plots" - ostensibly Guy Fawkes-esque, but I was actually impressed that it wasn't really about Guy Fawkes - it was actually more about the social history of Bonfire night (tomorrow night), and about the uses of gunpowder in royal assassinations in the early modern period. It was kinda nice, although I have issues with one lecturer's associations of gunpowder attacks with those of the modern suicide bomber. Anywho.

Just to keep you all amused, you can see that I've included a few photos I took this evening.

Up top there is York Minster - the main (West) doors. Dunno why they're lit up like that - must be something to do with Bonfire night? The colors in the middle stayed the same, whilst the colors on the two colums/towers on the outsides were changing color slowly but surely (I tried taking a pic from further away as well, but it didn't turn out so hot).

The middle picture is a Roman-era column excavated from the grounds near the minster (the Minster and the Roman basilical sort of overlapped in one corner).

And last, but not least, is the exterior of St. William's College. Not hugely detailed, and dark, I apologize. That's what I get for using a digital camera my mom won free in some lottery. But, hey, at least I can show my pictures to you all.

So, for about the third time since my Early Modern Core Course began, something has been pointed out. Something odd. Something puerile. Something just nutty.

Every last one of the women in my class sit on one side of the room, and the guys sit on the other.

I wonder if it's 'cuz the guys feel outnumbered? There's only three of them, and five of the fairer sex. Even today, we met for lunch before class. All 8 of us. And the three guys ended up sitting at one chunk of the table while the gals were at another. It's weird. And I don't think we do it intentionally. I, for one, have actually been making an effort to try and sit next to the guys in the class - partly because they're actually smart and good-looking - but also partly to see if I can change the trend. It hasn't worked yet. I don't think it's that we're all trying to fend off cooties or anything. We all seem to have good bodily hygiene, so I don't think it's because someone stinks.

Meh, either way, it's all good. I think we're fairly comfy with each other, even after only a month, so that's always nice.

But still. Weird.

So, I don' t know what I did... but whilst pulling my Smart Card out of my digital camera, I managed to somehow erase the contents of said Smart Card. All my photos to date are gone. Bugger! Thank god I saved most of them online in that photo album I put up - all the good ones, anyway.

Have had an uneventful day, which I suppose is good. My "Research Skills" course today went by really slowly, but that's nothing new. It was about 'designing and managing a research project and keeping track of the data'. My hunch about Microsoft OneNote was confirmed. Apparently it's a historian's godsend. Microsoft may have done something right for once. I must admit, though, that I am still a bit old fashioned and enjoy rifling through notes and papers, but I can totally see the practicality of keeping everything electronically - although I'm scared shitless that if I don't back things up in about three places, I'll lose them. Like, oh, say, my photos! Oy. Not that I'm bitter. Really.

Handbell practice was tonight - looks like we'll be busking a few times and playing a concert or two before Christmas, which should be entertaining - the best part is that it's fairly worthwhile. The money we raise in busking actually goes to a home for people in the advanced stages of MS, so I'm being socially conscious, musical, hanging out with really cool people, and getting out of my room every so often. I'm really enjoying my Wednesday evenings.

I'm also heading to the fireworks with some of my classmates on Saturday night. It's "Bonfire Night" - Guy Fawkes day... night... whatever. I find it hilarious that one of the biggest British celebrations is in honor of some guy's complete and utter failure to accomplish what he set out to do (short history lesson, if you don't know - Guy Fawkes and a bunch of his cronies attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament, with all the Lords and MPs and the monarch and such in them, in 1605 - so this year is big - 400th anniversary - and it's especially big here in York, since Fawkes was from around these here parts).

And now I need to return to my account of the trial of the Earl of Castlehaven for rape and sodomy in 1631, since it needs to be read by my class at 1:15 tomorrow...

So this campus is beautiful. Not all of it, but then when you're jogging around the lake or on your way to the post office you come across a bit that makes you go "ooh!" and wish you had brought your camera. Yes, I realize the issues that come when you attempt to take your camera jogging with you. Not practical. Which is why I still don't have pictures of many of the things I saw/see around here. I mean, I'm jogging along with my housekey and my cell phone stuffed in my socks, my MP3 player in my one pocket in my jogging pants... A camera just wouldn't work.

But that's beside the point. I guess the coolest things I've discovered so far are Heslington Hall - giant red brick building that looks a little like... hmmm... wonder if I've got that pic here...


Yup, looks a little like this baby here. This is Keele hall, which is at the University where one of my friends was finishing up her PhD (just submitted it! Yay her!). Most of these universities have been granted land by rich people and such, so I guess York is no exception. So we have Heslington Hall. There's a nifty fountain out front of ours, and some cool topiary.

But I guess the best part of the whole thing is that there is so much wild (and not so wild) life on campus.

One of my best experiences here hasn't had anything to do with school or people or architecture. I was feeling really homesick - missing the kittens, my friends, my family... Had just signed off the computer for the night, after complaining to a family friend that I missed everything and was really wishing I at least had a pet here to keep me company. I left the building to walk the few feet home, when what should saunter by me but this white blur. It took a minute, but I finally realized the blur wasn't entirely white, and that it was distinctly cat-shaped. It was hunting something in the bushes. I wasn't expecting to get anywhere - I'm used to the FEP cats, after all, where you have to ply them with food for 4 months before they'll let you pet them - but this cat was surprisingly responsive. On closer examination, she was an orange and white cat, not a tabby, just sortof splotchy, well groomed, well fed. But she let me pet her for a good 1/2 an hour straight. She nearly followed me home, too. The world works in mysterious ways, and I won't say that I had a spiritual revelation, but for the first time in a long time I felt like there was something out there looking out for me. It was fantastic.

But onto my other wildlife experiences: There are squirrels (not as many as the U of A, but that's OK - the squirrels here are freakin' huge!!!)... and there are bunnies. "Yeah, and?" I can hear you thinking... Well, these bunnies are CUTE! They're not the jackrabbit things that hop around in Alberta - they're more like real bunnies. They look rather more like the sort of pet you get at a petstore, although they're pretty big, for cute bunnies. They're all brown - not much use for being white here in the winter, I suppose. They're not big on people, much like the rabbits at home... There are pigeons. There are these crazy birds that I describe to myself as dinosaur birds. No idea what they are. Excuse me whilst I do an internet search to see if I can find out...

Ah. There they are. The Moorhen and the Coot. And I keep trying to upload photos of them and blogger keeps not letting me. Oy. Anyway, do a Google image search, and you'll see what I mean, especially if you look at their feet.

Then there's the fowl. There are ducks. Lots of them. About 5 different varieties. And geese! There are some that look like Canada Geese. And then there are geese that look like the geese you see in fairy tale illustrations. They're actually kinda cute. And there are swans. They're really lovely - they're black with red beaks.

But I discovered the extent of my animal withdrawal the other day. I was walking back home after heading to the post office in the village, and wandered past a pigeon that seemed rather more subdued and unafraid than your average pigeon. And I thought it was probably injured or something of the sort. And for about three seconds, before the bit of my brain that controls practicality kicked into action, I actually considered picking the thing up and taking it somewhere to get it help. Yup. A pigeon. Damn, I need a pet... Preferably something furry and cat-like in its appearance and behavior.

In spite of my whinyness earlier today, the day is slowly looking up. I still haven't gotten out of my pyjamas, but I have made myself somewhat productive. In fact, I've read three journal articles and am about to start on the fourth. I've cooked (Nasi Goreng - a rice/chicken/egg-based dish - enough to do me about 4 meals). I've even begun compiling my notes on a fantastic new program that Microsoft has put out with Office called OneNote. I love it. It would be even better if I had a tablet PC, but that's another story.

But, to top it all off, I've had 'real' contact with my previous life. I had a great MSN conversation with one of the girls from work this summer. She was having a tough time with some of her coworkers, and evaluations have finally come out (although since they're mailed out, I doubt I'll get mine for a while yet). And, yes, she was vindicated. Her ratings were fine, her coworkers' (the ones that were giving her trouble, anyway), were crap! Not that I know that. But gossip travels amazingly well in some circles, and I hear that said coworkers will NOT be coming back to FEP. YAY! She seems very positive, which is always good, so hopefully I'll get to see her when I go home for Christmas.

There are days when I wish I had my apartment back. Not that I'd give up this experience for the world - I'm meeting great people and learning great things. But it's pouring rain today and it's disgustingly windy, and I'd like nothing more than to curl up on my IKEA sofa and light a few candles, put on a pot of hot water, and sip hot chocolate all day whilst watching movies (or potentially actually reading some of the journal articles I should be reading at present). I could wander around in my pyjamas all day, should I choose to do so. But no. At present, I live in one room, no TV, my DVD player refuses to play anything that isn't from North America, candles are prohibited in residence (well, technically they were in my apartment, too, but I have a feeling that would be more rigidly enforced here). At least I bought a small coffee pot, so I can definitely have coffee. But no sofa. If I want to curl up anywhere to watch anything, it's usually in bed, which leads to me falling asleep. And although my flatmates have said they're cool with people wandering around in their pyjamas, I'm still not comfy with that whole notion - they're almost complete strangers, so it's odd.

Anywho.... Back to "Honor and Gender in Early Modern Rome". Oh joy.

I already knew that the Brit's don't do crisps... potato chips... whatever... the way we North Americans do. But some of their ideas don't sound all bad - cheedar and onion flavor... that sort of thing. I still haven't been able to bring myself to try the ever-present "prawn cocktail" flavor that all brands of chips here seem to sell like... I don't know... BBQ or Sour Cream and Onion back home. But I stumbled upon, like, a 'premium' version of Walkers crisps in the grocery store. And this particular flavor is "Oven Roasted Chicken and Thyme". Intriguing. I like chicken. I like roast chicken. I like thyme. I like potato chips. But would I like them all together?

The answer, ladies and gentlemen, is yes. While the flavor is quite salty, it's also ridiculously yummy, and I'm afraid now for my own sanity. I only bought a tiny snack-snized bag, and they're so good I just want more... More! MORE!!!

Yes, that's right folks, I have my life back. The sad, sad life that it is, but it's back. My computer came home yesterday evening, and as a result, I now have my stereo, DVD player, and everything else that I cherish in life, including the ability to download obscure journal articles from online databases without having to pay about 15 cents per page printing/photocopying. Yes, that's right, 15 cents a page is about what it works out to when you figure in the conversion and all that. To print. And photocopy. I'm buying myself a printer/scanner/copier this weekend. It'll hurt in the beginning, but save money in the long run.

That being said, I also managed to upload several of my photos - they're online at the KODAK Gallery... but just to give you a taste, here are a couple of my favorites:

Is very much like Alberta weather, in the sense that if you wait 20 minutes, it's bound to change. Take today for example. At 11 it was sunny. Bright and sunny in fact. Calm, bright and sunny. I would have gone outside and just sat in the sunlight if I could find a patch of grass the ducks and geese hadn't shat on (disadvantage of having lake in the middle of campus, and literally 20 feet from my front door). 11:30. Things are looking grey. The wind has picked up. 12:20 - it begins to pour. Not just kinda, but really. I'm in the computer lab, and I feel drops of rain from the open window behind me. And now it's 12:30, and although it's still quite windy, the downpour seems to have stopped, and there's actually some blue sky out there to the west.

Go figure.

So the lovely Toshiba repair people call today. Yup. That's right. My bloody f*cking keyboard is on bloody f*cking backorder and they have no real idea how bloody f*cking long it's going to take.

F**K!!!! I want my computer back!!!!!!

Ah, the joy of IKEA. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed my IKEA furniture and accessories - cheap, but stylish and damn comfy - until I went to IKEA yesterday. The Overseas Students Association trip to Leeds was fairly well-organized. Well, it would have been, if only most of the overseas students understood instructions in English. There were four busloads of people - 200 people-ish, the vast majority of which were Chinese. I learned later there is a Chinese market in Leeds. Only about 50 of us went to IKEA, but those of us who went had a great time.

There were some things I NEEDED - baskets to organize my room (KASSETT style, and some others), a laundry bag (went with BULLA...), some things I could really use - a coffee pot (one of those fun ones with the plunger that you can use for coffee or tea (KAFFE), an alarm clock (I had one, but it beeped every hour and drove me nuts, and didn't beep loud enough to wake me up), a cutting board, a lamp (SKYAR! Like I had back home! I hate fluorescent lights, and three guesses as to what the light above my desk is), and some stuff that was definitely a splurge - new bedding (TANJA - to get away from the institutional-esque stuff that the university provided me with), a throw (POLARVIDE) to keep me warm, and a stuffed tiger. I needed some company in bed at night.

So. Spent about two hours at IKEA, and then got to spend a couple of hours in Leeds City Centre. Had no idea what to go and see, but thanks to the wonders of the internet, some of the ladies at an online community to which I quasi-belong (it's a fansite, just to warn you all, for the author Diana Gabaldon) were able to provide me with some suggestions. I was told to go see the Corn Exchange, and to see the Royal Armoury, which has recently been moved up from the Tower of London. Unfortunately, I had made the mistake (?) of chatting with an American girl earlier in the day and then felt obligated by politeness to not abandon her in the middle of an unfamiliar city. And she wanted to go shopping, not be a tourist. Fine. Went into a couple of shops with her. Even bought jogging pants (which I _did_ in fact actually use today) and a polar fleece hoodie (ostensibly to go jogging in when it's cold, but I'm wearing it as a regular top today anyway). But towards the end of our time there, I insisted on seeing one or the other. We looked at the tourist signposts, and the Corn Exchange was a little closer.

I really had no idea what to expect. I had been told it had a bunch of quirky shops and that there was a fairly strong goth culture in the area. I assumed it was a street or something. Wrong. It is a building. A HUGE building. It's kind of oval in shape, with three levels, and on each level is a concourse around a middle open area (think... like... middle areas of shopping malls where you can see down to the floor below). But this building is old! It's got these ornate wrought-iron staircases from one level to the next, and ... oh... I wish I could post the picture I took of it. Stupid stupid laptop in the shop. Dammit. But, anyway, around the oval there are TONS of little shops, and she was right, some of them are fairly quirky (an entire shop devoted to condoms?!?!), but there are also some booths with beautiful handmade goods that are fun and funky. And I was actually surprised by the lack of gothyness. I didn't look totally out of place in my jeans and my powder-blue sweatshirt. Yay!

So today, I went to one of York's tourist attractions. I don't have a lot to do besides readings for school, which is nice, so I went on a bit of an excursion into town. Anywho. I went to Jorvik, which is the Viking Centre in York, where you're supposed to be able to meet real, live Vikings in a real historic setting and all that. Fun, right? Good times? Costumed interpreters... Viking history... ya know.

Warning: If you think you might ever go to Jorvik and don't want any potential surprises spoiled, stop here.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Holy crap I am _SO_ unbelievably thankful for what we had at FEP. Should you have attempted to do the conversion, I spent about $14 (Student rate!) to be greeted by a sort of 'mad scientist' figure, who really wasn't all that 'mad' - he was actually quite a nice British chap, an older gentleman, probably retired. We proceeded to go into this 'time machine', (benches in a room with a screen at the front and some fun lighting effects around it) and then to go 'back in time' (think... much tamer version of the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studios) and end up in 975 AD. The door opens, and you're herded down a hallway where you're greeted by... a Jorvik employee in their standard 2005 AD-issue red polo shirt, who seats you in a lovely little roller-coaster-car-type-thing, with speakers in the headrest, and basically you're taken on a 'tour' of the Viking village (in your choice of five languages - just choose from the panel in front of you!). Illusion effectively completely ruined.

It was fairly standard - as you go drifting slowly by in your thoroughly modernized mechanized conveyance, you get to see a leather worker's shop, a wood carver, a blacksmith's (although only the outside), a family home... all populated by... yes... Mannequins. Some even with little automated bits. The poor wood carver was condemned to turn a lathe for all eternity, back and forth, back and forth, never quite getting to actually shape anything... Kinda Sisyphus-esque. I did take a couple of pictures, but without my computer, I have no way of getting them onto this post, I'm afraid.

Perhaps the most intriguing bit of historical interpretation was created by attempting to reproduce the smells of a Viking settlement in 975 AD. Much as I LOVE to smell someone shitting on a 10th century toilet, it certainly didn't make me want to come back to Jorvik at any time in the near future. Nor did the stuffed animals posed in various positions of mid-movement fixity - a cat leaping off of a roof, a dog pissing in a corner. And I wasn't a big fan of the animatronic chickens. Nope. Not at all.

About 10 minutes later, your ride is done. You've passed through the tiny village, and there's nothing left to see. I still haven't seen a live Viking by this point, nor have I been able to communicate with anyone about any of the things I've seen. This entire site is supposedly based on an archaeological excavation that took place in the late 70s and early 80s, so good on them for attempting to bring the past 'to life'... if you can call that life... but I digress.

So the ride is over, you get out, and you're back in the present all of a sudden (not even some strobe lights or sound effects to mark the change! I felt gipped!), and you're herded yet again into a room with modern museum-style exhibits - glass cases and all that - showing some of the actual artifacts from the dig. Labeled? Not really. A case would have maybe a dozen or two items in it, and the only real information to go with it would be a general description... like "Bone. Bone was used to make combs, blahblahblahblah". So you didn't actually know what any of the stuff in the cases was. And was there anyone to ask? Nope. Oh, and periodically, the lights would come up in part of the display case, and you'd see 'someone' (yes, more mannequins) at work with the tools displayed in the rest of the case.

In the next room, I saw my first Viking. 3rd person from the moment you walked in - but how could he be in first when he was surrounded by modern amenities? Granted, you were in a room teaching you how to do Viking crafts, and I should have realized by this point that the target age for this attraction is probably 8-10 years old, but nonetheless, the promise that I was going to meet 'real, live Vikings' was looking more an more like an empty promise, nothing but words.

The next room was a 'be an archaeologist' sort of a room. Again, an 8-10 year old would probably have been fascinated. I, on the other hand, can't be bothered sifting through rubble that other boogery 8-year-old hands have sifted through in order to find the piece of 'bone'. They did have one interesting thing in this room, though - a skeleton, and they had labeled all the wounds and medical information that was available by looking at the bones. I once considered going into forensic anthro, so this was actually really interesting. Poor guy went through a lot - wounds all over the flipping place!

I met my 'next' Viking on the way out. But he seemed so sullen and dull and bored and completely uninterested in his job that I couldn't bring myself to ask the one real question that I had - there's lots of archaeological evidence for shoes - they actually found shoes at the site, but what about clothes? Clothes generally don't survive that long, so I was wondering how they figured out how to clothe all those mannequins. My curiosity will never be sated.

Oy.

But, hey, I bought a mobile phone today, and found the La Senza in town, and set up a bank account, so it wasn't an entire waste of a day. But I could really use those 45 minutes back. *sigh*

I don't know if it was random so much, but...

So I got home from school yesterday, and was putting some stuff away in our kitchen. One of the other girls, from China, was in there making something.

Now, for a bit of background, my flatmates are mostly great. When I see/interact with them, that is. It's like a bunch of dorm rooms in Schaffer (sorry, Nicky, can't figure out how to do the umlaut on blogger), whose doors close automatically, with no common lounge area... so really we just share a kitchen. They all seem really nice, but with the exception of 1 other woman (out of 6 of us!), no-one is from an English-speaking country. Well, maybe the Ugandan, but if she's speaking English on the phone, it's with such a heavy accent I can't understand it. As such, they do what all foreign students EVERYWHERE tend to do - hang out with "their own kind". Which is great. Nice to have someone that understands your language and culture, right? But I sometimes feel like my kitchen has been invaded by the Chinese embassy, as my Chinese flatmates tend to cook for ALL their friends at least once a week - I gather they sort of go on rotation.

But back to the story. I'm putting stuff away. I'm coughing. I'm asthmatic - it's what we do, especially after we've just booted it back across campus in the attempt to minimize time away from the phone (I was praying Toshiba would call... still no word from them though - but my phone did ring the other morning - but when I got to it to pick it up, it stopped. Bugger). But Jacquie (Jing is her real name) looks up at me with an expression of concern and asks if I would like to try some pear soup (which turns out to be really sweet - lots of icing sugar in it). This comes out of nowhere, and I must have looked completely flabbergasted, because she goes on to explain, in her cute broken English, that pear soup is a sort of Chinese home remedy for coughs and colds, and it just happens to be what she's making at the moment. Now, the sharing of the soup isn't what touched me. Sharing food is one thing, but she went on with her explanation. Her parents, she said, used to make pear soup whenever anyone was feeling sick. It's a childhood memory for her. I felt extremely privileged to be let into such a private moment, and to share in that particular memory - especially coming from someone from (forgive me for creating/perpetuating stereotypes) that part of the world: they don't tend to be the most emotionally open people I've encountered.

But now I'm off to - get this - the York Colleges Guild of bell ringers. They have a handbell group, and since I used to dabble in ringing when I was in high school (I play a mean four-in-hand!), I figured I'd give it another shot. And it'll get me out at least one night a week... although having to walk into that pre-formed group all by my lonesome scares the hell out of me. And, should I feel the strange desire to do so, I can wander into a centuries-old church on Thursdays and ring the giant bells in the spire there. Cool!

Gotta run!

And now that I've potentially gotten "Tom's Diner" in your head, I apologize. But that one little phrase of Suzanne Vega's is totally summing up my life right now. It's a waiting game.

I called Toshiba today, and the courier DID manage to get my laptop there. Turnaround is about 5 days... so it's looking like AT LEAST early next week before I get my computer back. Oy. It's currently sitting in their depot awaiting 'spare parts'. Which is probably what happens to Canadian peoples' laptops when they request that they have a US-style keyboard rather than a UK-style keyboard when their laptop is repaired. Sigh.

I'm also waiting for Saturday. 'Cuz Saturday should be fun. I'm going to play at IKEA! Yay! The nearest IKEA is in Leeds, which is a bit of a drive away, but the Overseas Students Association is organizing a bus there on Saturday, which cost a whole £2 (about $4CDN)... and I'm definitely excited about the possibility of getting myself a laundry bag, a drying rack, and, potentially, some sheets/duvet cover that aren't the ugly ones the University gave me. Not that they're god-awfully ugly, but they're definitely not my style.

I'm still waiting for my information to come in the mail so that I can get my bank account opened. Hasn't arrived yet. Should've gone with something other than HSBC - their website was less than informative, their customer service has been absolute shite, and I'm still waiting, more than a week later, for the paperwork to open my bank account. And then I have to wrestle with TD Canada Trust to see if they'll let me wire transfer without being physically present, since they won't do it over the phone any more. Bugger.

And so I sit. And I wait. And Ms Vega runs through my head incessantly.

So. Of all the things they could possibly give me, my first assignment is a book review. Which isn't too bad - it's only 3 pages or so, not the 12-page monster I was once assigned (who the hell writes 12-page book reviews? Apparently students of Canadian history). But, with my laptop in the computer hospital, the air conditioning in the computer lab broken... I think I'm in book review hell. Seriously. I may curl up and fall asleep on the keyboard. It's so warm in here.

Isn't procrastination wonderful?

School really starts in earnest this week. Hence the book report due. It says I'm supposed to circulate it around. I suppose that means I have to print a copy, then photocopy it for everyone else to have as well. Hm. I also have to give a presentation (in conjunction with one of the guys in my course) on Thursday, but that should be short and sweet. I hope. In the meantime I've been bored as all hell. I'm so used to having my life scheduled to the hilt. I mean, last school year at this time I was working 2 part time jobs, filming a TV series with Access, taking a full course load and attempting to have some sort of a social life. And right now I've got school. That's it. Eep.

Ok, now I really should write that book review. Bugger.

This seems really flippant and trivial, especially considering my last post, but my laptop got shipped off to Toshiba today. Perhaps soon my entertainment centre and lines of communication will be reopened. Yay!

They're Holly McNarland's words... not mine... but they couldn't describe the situation more accurately. I just received an email from a friend informing me that her father had committed suicide. I can only imagine the grief and marvel at her amazing strength in this situation.

Things not to do when you arrive in a foreign country:

1. Spill coffee on your laptop. So now several keys on my keyboard don't want to work. Fortunately, though, (and I bought a Toshiba for precisely this purpose), there is a certified/authorized Toshiba depot in this country that will send a courier to pick my baby up, they'll fix it, then courier it back to me. So hopefully I'll have it back and on my desk in working order in a couple of weeks tops. But in the meantime, I'm using the public computer lab, which is awkward as all hell, 'cuz I don't know where half the keys are. For some stupid reason, for example, the " key is shift+2, while the @ is shift+'. The number sign is over one key from ' and the £ sign is shift+3. I'm never going to get used to this. Argh. But it means that MSN messenger is out (if you read my name you'll probably be able to discern what some of the disfunctional letters are now...). Sigh.

2. Get sick. I was working with a crapload of people who had colds, I've been messing with my internal body clock, and yesterday I spent the day in town exploring - it was pouring rain and I got absolutely flipping soaked. So now I have a cold. And no one really to whine to - although I did call my mother and cry after the coffee incident.

But, anyway, once I get my computer back from the Toshiba depot, I'll post some pictures of my adventures in York - with Margot, a Canadian... an Albertan in fact... who studied at the U of A... in the Dept. of History no less... and is now here doing her MA in Medieval History. What're the odds?

In other news, I've already bought a ticket for a concert that's coming up here soon - York is the home of the National Centre for Early Music, and they have a Christmas festival each year - I'll be going to see Machaut's "Messe de Notre Dame" (Mass of Our Lady) at York Minster on December 8, performed by the Orlando Consort. Medieval music in a medieval setting - what more could you ask for? And the student rate was stunning. The whole thing is costing me maybe 9 bucks Canadian. The Orlando Consort is actually fairly well known, and the regular adult rate is £15 ($37-ish). Kate's student-y status makes her eligible for a £3.50 ticket. Oh yeah.

But that about sums it up for now. I'll check in again in a couple of days tops - tomorrow is an intro to my dept, then Tuesday is intl. student orientation, so when that's over, we'll see what my impressions of this place are.

It's 5:50 a.m., and the jet lag is making it impossble for me to sleep - I would have just been heading out to the movie set at this point at home - nights seem to have royally messed with my internal clock. So, anyway, I needed something to do. I copied Adele - I stumbled upon this whilst searching for the pic of the Greek kittens

i live: in a small study bedroom in a 'flat' in a graduate college at the U of York

i work: hard, but only after I've procrastinated hard, too

i talk: very seldom - I listen more.

i wish: I could have the best of both worlds

i enjoy: Learning fun new things about history

i look: out for myself and for others.

i must: register with the National Health Services next week and see about getting some prescriptions renewed.

i forget: things frequently. Like today. I'm in the grocery store and forgot to get toilet paper. Oops.

i find: that people on campus are so far mostly friendly.

i smell: my Cranberry room spray from the Body Shop.

i listen: to the music in movies. Like, really listen. Movie soundtracks fascinate me.

i hide: my chocolate sometimes.

i pray: as a last resort, to some being up there...

i walk: All over campus trying to find things

i write: the way I speak. Hence all the ...s

i see: my cluttered desk and want to clean it up.

i sing: semi-professionally, any time.

i laugh: really loudly.

i left: this room to go grocery shopping and watch Spooks (MI-5 in North America - you too can watch it on A&E - probably later this year)

i won: a whole bunch of awards in high school but I'm not particularly proud of any of them.

i can: cross-stitch, knit, crochet, sing, play piano, cook on a wood-burning stove

i own: not much. I could only bring 2 suitcases with me when I came, so at the moment my room is bare.

i watch: people. It's fun.

i yearn: to see a plug-in that looks like the ones back home

i daydream: about finding someone to love

i fall: asleep really soundly, and can't be woken up by most loud noises, including cats fighting right outside my bedroom window.

i want: to be successful in this current venture.

i cry: a lot. Especially when tired.

i burn: anything flammable in moderate quantities. I'm a bit of a pyro, and even just having a candle around makes me much happier.

i read: textbooks... historical fiction... sci fi...kids' books... anything, really, but mostly the first two.

i love: my friends and family

i rode: bareback once. Woo.

i sometimes: just need some chocolate

i touch: my hair. A lot. I have to have it pulled back or else my hands are constantly playing with it.

i hurt: myself with a suitcase. There is a giant bruise on my ankle from where I must have banged it or something.

i use: fun pens to take notes in class. Gotta do something to liven it up.

i break: sewing machine needles. Just ask Adele

i eat: whatever's in my poor starving student cupboard.

i quit: singing lessons when I hit university and I've regretted it since.

i bathe: rarely now. There's no bathtub in this whole place. Showers are what I'm stuck with now.

i still: don't know what I want my thesis to be about.

i drink: lots and lots of caffeinated beverages.

i stop: functioning properly at hour 6 of an 8-hour day.

i save: my school-work-in-progress in three different spaces - on my webspace, on a disk, and on my hard drive.

i lost: my naivete but not my innocence

i take: criticism badly - but not constructive criticism.

i trip out: rarely... and then usually only because I'm ridiculously tired.

i hug: sparingly; only the people i trust - Adele said it first, but I have to agree.

i play: Sid Meier's Pirates! and Spider Solitaire. Way too much.

i miss: being able to cuddle - with a pet, with another human, either way.

i hold: on to everything. I'm a packrat.

i forgive: but it takes a lot for me to forget - Another one Adele said better than I could.

i drive: myself crazy worrying sometimes.

i learn: arcane facts about a long-gone period in history.

i dream: rarely. At least that I can remember. Although I had a dream last night that involved Brad Pitt. Stupid movie.

i have: to get out and meet people. I'm in England, a country where I know a whole 1 person enough to call up and say "hey, wanna go for coffee", and I know 5 whole other people by name besides.

i remember: green carpet in my parents' first house - but they say they got rid of the green carpet before I was born.

i don't: do all-nighters. I get physically ill without sleep.

i like: the smell of vanilla, sleeping in an extra 15 minutes, having 24/7 access to the 'net in my room...

i made: my first knitted project this summer. It was a dishcloth. Does that count?

i kiss: little these days.

i believe: that there is something out there, but what it is, I don't know.

i wait: for phone calls that probably won't come

i need: a bath sponge. Couldn't find one at the ASDA this evening.

i owe: my parents both monetarily and for so many other things.

i hate: intolerance

i feel: my back aching due to the unfamiliar mattresses and shitty pillows

i can't: touch my nose with my tongue

i know: that I'll get through it, even if it doesn't seem that way at the time.

i applaud: anyone who makes a concerted effort to accomplish something extraordinary

i am: getting settled into this new life

i figure: it'll all work out in the end, so just kick back, relax, suck it up and deal with it.

Well, folks, after several exhausting hours of flights, I finally made it to England, heading out the doors of Heathrow airport into the real world at about 10:15 p.m. local time. Caught a cab to Allison's from there, and for the first time I've ridden in one of those London taxis... ya know the ones... the classic black things with the cool insides... um... let's see if I can find a pic... Oh, the internet is great - absolutely riddled with pics of the bloody things! But, anyway, it being 10 p.m., it's dark out, of course, which means that I got to see the sights in London at night. It was gorgeous! I mean, I've done it before, in February, when I got to hang out with Allison, but for the first time it was just me in the back of the cab (which is huge, by the way - seats at least 4 people back there!), staring out the window as London passed by. To get to Allison's place it's about a 50 minute drive straight through London, and so I passed absolutely every single sight, each of which is floodlit at night, and it's absolutely freakin' gorgeous. Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, the Tower... lovely.

I didn't bother playing the tourist this time around, though. No open-topped double decker bus rides for me, I'm afraid. I I spent most of Tuesday cross-stitching in Allison's sitting room, watching British daytime TV... There's this program on BBC1 about the effects of alcohol in Britain, which is fairly interesting, and there's another one on BBC1 or BBC2... maybe 2... where the presenter has been showing off the links between classical music and modern pop and the weavings and interlinking facets of the two. On Tuesday it was about the Beatles, then yesterday it was about Cole Porter. It was pretty cool. Tuesday evening, Allison and I went out for dinner at a curry place near her work, then wandered back to her place to watch Bridget Jones' Diary, which I still hadn't seen. I laughed. A lot. It reminds me that there's still hope for my romantic life yet, even if Bridget is a completely fictional character. It was nice to see Allison again, and she might even be on the same flight as me back to Edmonton for Christmas, interestingly enough.

Yesterday was spent packing up again (not that I'd unpacked much at Allison's anyway), catching a cab (not the cool London sort, unfortunately - those are stupidly expensive) to King's Cross Station (where I neglected to find out if there was a Platform 9 & 3/4 sign up yet again!), and then hopping on a train up to York. Hopping. Hm. Not hopping so much as struggling with all my luggage. I was dreading having to deal with the stuff at the other end since the York railway station, unlike King's Cross, has several staircases that you might have to take in order to reach the exit. Thankfully, just as the train was slowing down to pull into York, another guy on the train saw me hauling all my luggage down and offered to help with a suitcase or two since he just had a small bag. He helped me to the taxi rank with my stuff, and I shoved it into a taxi, then it was off to the University, which is just outside a little village called Heslington... although it's difficult to tell where York ends, the University begins, and then where the University Ends and Heslington begins.

Heslington really is a tiny village. A couple of banks, a post office, a couple of pubs... that's about it. Quaint and cute, but not that much there. I wandered down there to open a bank account today, only to be told by the bank in question that I had to make the initial application online, wait for them to mail shite out to me, then head into the main branch of the bank in York city centre to actually activate the account. *sigh* Thank god for the Visa card. I may actually need it.

Having arrived at the University, I checked in with the porter, got my keys, and hauled my luggage to my room, which looks like this:

It's pretty tiny, and the duvet cover is nothing to speak of, but hey, it's mine... and best of all, it has its own bathroom. A tiny, minimal, claustrophobic's-worst-nightmare bathroom, but a bathroom nonetheless. The residence is really modern - it was only used for the first time in the 2002-3 school year, so nothing is old, it's all still fresh and bright... It has a bit of sterility to it, but hopefully I'll accumulate stuff soon enough and have it decorated a little. I don't know if York has an equivalent to the Imaginus sale... and I just noticed that the date on those photos is totally wrong. Oops. I'll have to fix the camera (mom gave me her digital camera! Yay! There will probably be lots of photos on the blog now, assuming I can remember to take the camera places. The best bit of the whole thing, though is probably the view. Check this out:

Now that, my friends, is a view. The whole campus is centred on a man-made lake, which has hundreds of birds living on/around it - ducks, geese, etc. Those little black splotches in the photo are ducks. And there are these black birds with white splotches on their heads that I have yet to identify that are all over the place. And pigeons and such, of course. In fact, I can hear them outside my window right now. That might get annoying, but hey, I sleep through anything.

My 'flatmates', if you can call this a flat, seem fairly nice. Unlike the university rooms where I've been before, there's no real common lounge-y area with a TV and sofas and that sort of thing. Or if there is, I haven't seen it. I share a kitchen with 5 other girls, 2 of whom seem to be Chinese (I know one is... haven't actually said more than two words to the other one yet), one from Uganda, one from England, and then one who hasn't moved in yet, I don't think. If she has, I haven't seen her, and there are still all sorts of papers and things outside her room.

I'm going to have to get over my fear of bridges pretty quickly, though. If you want to get anywhere on campus without it taking an inordinate amount of time, you have to use those footbridges like the one in the pic. It's not too bad being on them, but it's definitely uncomfortable for me, since I hate the damn things so much.

I spent the morning this morning wandering into Heslington, discovering that you have to apply for the bank account online, then wandering around campus doing paperwork and the like. I have set up my email account with the university (yay!), which is nice, since I JUST received the email from the U of A saying they're going to cancel my account. Buggers. So if anyone wants to get ahold of me, send me an email quickly, and I'll let you know my new address. I also hit a stationery store quickly for pushpins and the like for the memo boards in my room. I'm seriously considering buying a printer as well, as they're only about 49 pounds... which reminds me that I really need to figure out how to type the pound symbol... I'm probably going to need to do that fairly often.

But to finish, I bring you all a list of the major differences I've noticed so far:

• Traffic (obvious, I know, but it's just reflex for most of us to look left, then right as we cross the street. Now I have to retrain myself to look right, then left.)
• Light switches. For some reason in this country, you flick the switch DOWN to turn everything on. So confusing.
• Electrical outlets. Different shape, different voltage. Luckily I bought adapters for my two plug-requiring electronic appliances before I left.
• Telephone cords. Different shape plugs into the wall socket. I attempted to use mine to access the phone line for dial-up internet before I got my network services set up, and failed miserably.
• The hot and cold water faucets are NEVER combined into one stream of water.
• The healthcare system is two-tiered. EVERYONE gets the basic stuff, which is decent in and of itself, but, hey, if you can pay for more, go for it! And they really don't have a problem with it over here. Honestly, I think it could be a model for Alberta and Canada - everyone DOES get service, and those with the ability to do so could put themselves on the upper tier, removing themselves from the queue for the lower tier, and hopefully alleviating some of the backlog. But, then, I've never discussed the healthcare system with a Brit, so who knows?
• Pillows have no loft whatsoever. None. It's like there's no pillow there at all. I'm seriously going to have to try and find someplace with real pillows.
• No one seems too keen on bedsheets. You have one sheet to cover the mattress, then to cover yourself up, you get a duvet. That's it. Forgive me, but I like my layers. I need to find an Ikea or something like it around here.

Now, fortunately, there are some things that are similar to home. While out shopping, I found Terry's Chocolate Oranges. Yay! I mean, I think they're a British invention to begin with... and here the slogan is "tap and unrap", rather than "whack and unrap", but it's still pretty much the same thing. And I found Special K Red Berries! Yay! And Fusion pens!