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):
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.
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.
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...
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!
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 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.
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...
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:
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.
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!**
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!**
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...
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...
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.
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...
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.
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.
