I got my hair cut today.




Stop that.

Don't snicker like that.

This _is_ a big deal. I only get my hair cut once every six months or so.

I'm still not sure whether I like it or not. Not only did she get rid of my split ends, but she also went NUTS thinning out some of the volume. I had a good rat's worth of hair (link provided for the non-historically-interpretatively-initiated) left on the floor, and probably would have packed it up to bring back with me, but didn't. I really should have. Ah well. Whatever. I don't know if I'm ever going to be interping again. And she feathered the ends. And straightened it. Which is totally not how my hair will ever look ever again (don't own a blowdryer, much less a straigh... wait, I do own a straightener. In Canada. That I've never used). But my hair feels superthin now, when I'm used to superthick. This is going to be weird until it starts to grow out again.


Anyway. Oddly enough, this may be the best picture of me taken in recent memory...

I Am Reading
Academically: Just about to head off to the library to see what's next on the ol' dissertation reading list
For Fun: The Undomestic Goddess (Sophie Kinsella - I needed some brain candy)

Whist poking around the BBC News site today, I found THIS.

Whilst poking around the University of York site, I found THIS (scroll down to page 16).

Now. Compare and contrast. And keep in mind that the second list is by NO means comprehensive. I'm rather sure we also have Bewick's Swans, Mallards, and White-fronted Geese.

For those of you who couldn't be bothered to actually click the links, that means that the U of York pays host to 7 of the 10 most likely species to import bird flu.

All that having been said, the people at the U of York have circulated a memo.

Ha! With a case of H5N1 already found in a Scottish swan, and another strain of the flu found in Norfolk it's only a matter of time... Not that I will be closely handling the waterfowl around campus at any point in the near future, but nonetheless, it is a bit worrying to know that our campus could easily become a hotbed of lethal disease, especially when their shit is EVERYWHERE.

I Am Reading
Academically: Treason in Tudor England: Politics and Paranoia (Lacey Baldwin-Smith)
For Fun: still Hudson. Learned last night that while Charles II had 15 (16?) bastards, Henry II takes the cake with 20 or 22.

Right, so. Re-reading last night's entry, I'm very glad that I did not say/do anything particularly stupid. I did not drunkenly text anyone, although it was tempting. I was pouring my own tequila - the three of us finished off a 500 mL bottle, but I think I maybe had 100 mL of it - even drunk I'm conscious of all the alcohol awareness stuff that Residence Life stamped onto my poor little brain.

And now that it is the day after, I remember why I don't often have more than a couple of drinks at a time. I don't get particular symptoms of a hangover (no headache, no mouth tasting like socks, no sensitivity to light, no nau... ok, well a bit of nausea) just a general feeling of blech. Although now that I've eaten even the blech is fading quickly. Nonetheless, the blech is enough that I don't think I will be repeating on Saturday for my birthday.

In fact, I've no idea what to do on Saturday for my birthday. Except open presents. My birthday last year was spent cleaning my apartment after I moved all my stuff out so that I wouldn't get a damage bill from the U of A. My best present that day was the massive cut I gave myself on the venetian-blind-like slats of my closet door (ok, that's a bit mean, my parents did get me some cool stuff). Didn't even bother with cake. Hell, I haven't done anything for my birthday in years (wait, I went to Julio's the year before...). I'd like this year to be at least slightly different.

Meh, I'll figure something out.


Ironically enough, after initially posting this and going on about the alcohol information pumped into my head by Residence services, I popped into one of the campus bars (for FOOD, people - the bars double as eateries during the day) and found THIS:

Ah, "Social-Norming" campaigns... in which the university tries to make you feel better about yourself if you don't drink yourself stupid on a regular basis. They had a similar campaign at the U of A. Ok, honestly, I know the merits of a social norming campaign, but they seem sort of like one giant guilt trip. I know a lot of students, especially first-years, who might wonder if, because they failed that ONE exam because of being pissed the night before, they're complete failures/alcoholics/odd/abnormal/have a problem, etc. Like any other advertising campaign, people need to be well-informed about ALL aspects of the issue. And social norming campaigns tend to ignore/guilt trip the 10% of students who HAVE let alcohol interfere with their schoolwork even once. THAT, in spite of what these bloody things may make a person believe, is not the end of the world. If it is habitual, yes, it's a problem. But this beer mat, by emphasizing the words "have never", really screws with a person's head.

Right, rant off - I DO understand the importance of educating people about the responsible use of alcohol, but this seems like a potentially counterproductive way to do it.

I Am Reading
Academically: We'll see if I feel up to it, but I'm going to have to dig into Treason in Tudor England tomorrow for sure, if I don't today.
For Fun: Hudson's English History (by Roger Hudson - cute book with all sorts of random English history facts. Like what you could get pilloried for in London in 1419).

Ok, seriously, how can people NOT have ever seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Especially if you're a historian that has worked on medieval England at all? I mean, honestly. My friends and I worked that into every single medieval English class we could - whether it was medieval English history, medieval English literature... etc.

It turns out that two of my classmates had not seen this particular epic of cinematographic brilliance.

So, several pints and many shots of tequila later, we watched it in my room, to the best of our ability, considering that we had consumed many pints of Guinness/Carlsburg (ok, I know, it's not really English, but it's what I know and love) and many shots of tequila (they'd never had tequila, either!! What the heck is up with that? I mean, really?! And do you think anywhere on campus had GOLD tequila? No, so we were stuck drinking the clear stuff. Oy.). I don't think they entirely followed, but they got enough to realize that the movie is, in fact, funny, and that Monty Python is, in fact, perhaps one of the best British exports that the New World has ever seen (I also showed them the "every sperm is sacred" bit from Meaning of Life).

I have also learned that in comparison to my (female) classmates, I'm evil. Their innocence and naivete shocks me.

And now I think I will drink one hell of a lot of water, take a few ibuprofen, and head to bed. Yes, it's only about 11 p.m., but we started at 5 and have been going straight through since then. Apologies if there are any spelling mistakes - my drunkenness seems to increase my innate minor dislexia.

(Stolen from Delly Bean in an effort to not write a real post - not that I have anything to write about. Wait until tomorrow/Tuesday after the drunken "we've handed in our papers! Yay" celebrations that will occur tomorrow evening.)

10 T H I N G S
TV show: What is this television of which you speak? Before the days of noTV, though, it was MI-5 (Amerispeak)/Spooks (Britspeak)
Flower: Love red roses. Does that make me a hopeless romantic?
Alcohol: Rye and coke is always good
Movie: Monty Python and the Holy Grail, The Red Violin
Color: Is black a colour? No? - Ditto. If not, though, my favourite would be blue
Sport: Footie (Britspeak)/Soccer (Amerispeak)
Actor: Dunno, really... Ewan McGregor's got that yummy accent...
Music: Anything. My playlist ranges from Palestrina to Propellorheads to Nine Inch Nails to Billie Holiday. Always looking for something new and good!
Season: Summer. I was meant to live somewhere warm and sunny (why am I in England then?)
Book: Usually whatever I'm reading at the time. Although I've read everything by Sharon Kay Penman at least 3 times.

1 0 F A C T S
Birthplace: Oakville, Ontario, Canada
Hometown: Aren't they technically supposed to be the same? I actually don't think I've lived in one place long enough to have a hometown... except Vegreville. And I hated Vegreville. Ew.
Height: 5'7ish
Hair color: Brown. Although it has a remaining red tint from the dye job a few posts ago
Hair length: Hangs at exactly where my shoulder blades are all pointy and such
Hair style: What day of the week is it? Usually in a hastily put-up bun or ponytail but occasionally I get adventurous
Eye color: Grey/Blue
Skin color: Palest pale. Although I finally met a girl whiter than me this year.
Shoe size: 9 (Amerispeak)/7 (Britspeak)
Citizenship: Canadian

1 0 T H I S O R T H A T S
Love or lust?: Love, please... although the two don't necessarily need to be separate, now, do they?
Hard liquor or beer?: Liquor. The aforementioned rye and coke is always lovely, but I won't say no to tequila shots either
Night or day?: Evening
Hook-ups or relationship?: Relationships
T.V. or internet?: I don't have a TV... I miss it. More than I thought I would
Wild night out or romantic night in:? Night in. Social anxiety issues.
Saturday or Sunday?: Saturday
Colored or black and white picture?: Black and white - but only if they're authentically old and historical and the like. My old family photos are one of my most treasured possessions - the photo I use for my profile here is one of my great grandmother (on the left) and two of her cousins.
Phone or in person?: Person. Then phone. Then MSN. Unfortunately those tend to be in the order of hugest expense at the moment, so I've been using them in the reverse, mostly.
Bill Pullman or Bill Paxton?: Ok, I had to Google this, and I still have no idea.

1 0 H A V E Y O U E V E R S
Have you ever been caught sneaking out?: No - my town was too small to do that sort of thing without getting caught, and then when I moved out, there was no need to sneak.
Have you ever done something you regret?: Hell yeah, haven't we all?
Have you ever been on a house boat?: Nope.
Have you ever unintentionally injured a small child?: I'm not around small children much - they make me uncomfortable. I've probably trod on one's toes in the grocery store or something, though...
Have you ever been charged with sexual assault?: No. Almost been on the charging end, though.
Have you ever had your revenge?: Does the teapot caper at FEP count? That sort of fell flat...
Have you ever finished an entire jaw breaker?: Nope. Not a big fan of the things
Have you ever stayed up all night til the sun came up?: Tried to - but never made it.
Have you ever been caught by your parents with a hickey?: Never had one
Have you ever been caught by your parents doing anything more than making out?: My parents haven't met... no, wait, they met C... but I've never taken anyone home with me.

10 A R E Y O U S
Are you missing someone right now?: Um, yes.
Are you happy?: Not particularly. But much better than I have been in recent weeks
Are you interested in taking a free stress test?: No. My stress level is sky-high. I don't need a test to tell me that.
Are you bored?: Yes, and it's only adding to the stress.
Are you German?: No
Are you Italian?: No
Are you French?: No
Are you loyal to the smelly European countries of your ancestors?: Last time I checked, Scotland, England, and Slovakia weren't particularly smelly. Although I've never been to Slovakia, so I can't personally vouch for that one.
Are your parents still married?: Yes.
Are you into someone right now?: If you can't answer that one after reading my blog, you've got problems.

I Am Reading
Academically: Nothing, but will be digging into Baldwin-Smith's Treason in Tudor England: Politics and Paranoia shortly.
For fun: I'm about halfway through Tess...

And here, the torture implements...

While I do, in fact, thank everyone who has sent birthday greetings and presents and the like, the fact that they got here more than a week early is causing me to wallow in torment whilst the packages and envelopes sit here, under strict orders "Do not open until your birthday".

So, while I whine about being tormen... no, I've already used 'tormented'... what's another synonym...

So while I whine about being plagued by the surreptitious enticement these envelopes and packages subtly exude, I again thank you all for the reminder that I am, in fact, thought of and cared for.

I wish I could hug you all.

I Am Reading

Academically: My own paper "To Have And To Hold: Intercourse with the devil in English witchcraft cases". Ah, editing...

For Fun: still working on Tess

I was recently asked for a favour by a friend from over the other side of the pond. She recently brought her Girl Scout troop over to the UK for a bit of a jaunt through England and Scotland. Fair enough. I did the same thing when I was about the same age. One of the girls saw some mugs in a store that she absolutely loved while at Heathrow. The people at the store assured her she could get the same mugs at their franchise at the gate, so they passed through security, and went on their way to find these mugs in the other store.

They didn't have them.

They tried to leave the secure area, but no such luck, security was, for once, being good and secure at Heathrow (I seriously get searched more in Canada than I ever do in England). So this poor girl went back to the States without her mugs.

Enter me. I'm one of the few people that D knows that lives on this side of the ocean, and she said she'd try and get in contact with us to secure some of these mugs for the girl - you can find them everywhere. So I went and bought a couple.

But here is the crux of the matter.

THESE are the mugs in question.

Now, don't get me wrong. They are lovely, HUGE mugs that hold a hell of a lot of coffee (I think they're the equivalent of whatever fancy Italian name they give to a large size).

But this, my friends, is like spending a couple of weeks in a foreign country and going to McDonald's for every other meal. Honestly. Perhaps if someone she knows collects the darn things, then that I can understand (there's a whole series of these mugs). But if she's attempting to get the mugs as a souvenir of her time in Scotland? Oy. Get something made of wool IN Scotland. Get some whiskey... no, wait, hang on, she's under age, that wouldn't have worked. Buy postcards. When I was that age in Scotland, I splurged and bought a kilt. I bought jewellery (the celtic cross necklace I still wear most of the time... including whilst showering and sleeping, but that was probably TMI). I bought t-shirts. But, honestly, do NOT go to Starbucks and buy a Starbucks mug. Especially when these mugs are available EVERYWHERE. My linking to the Scotland mug was not a mistake - she specifically wanted the Scotland Mug. When I wandered into the Starbucks I could have chosen between London, England, Wales, Northern Ireland, and Scotland. These mugs are EVERYWHERE! They're not unique! They're not a once-ever opportunity! Hell, she probably could have bought a couple on Ebay, although my services will doubtlessly be faster... and she won't get ripped off - I just checked Ebay... And THE MUG is selling for almost twice what I paid for one of them... and then factor in postage... Ok, so she's getting a deal from me. Well, we'll see what postage costs. She MAY be getting a deal from me. Still.

The only way this girl can now escape my scorn is if she collects these things...

Which I might now start doing. Ok, I admit it. The more I look at them the more they grow on me. I mean, honestly. They're pretty big, awesome mugs. And they'd be a quasi-matching set. How cool is that? And, yes, while I haven't LIVED in Scotland or Wales or Ireland or London... they sell the mugs EVERYWHERE. So I will not feel guilty or overly touristy should I decide to actually buy the damn things.

The things I do for my caffeine...



I Am Reading
Academically: My own paper "Freaks and Creatures: Representing the 'unnatural' in the modern museum" in an attempt to get the editing done
For Fun: Tess of the D'Urbervilles (Thomas Hardy - part of a 'classics' kick I started this summer and intend to continue for a while)

I woke up this morning rather later than usual. In an attempt to treat school as though it were my job, I've been getting up at a regular hour, going off to the library for hours on end, and returning to my room at the end of the day. It hasn't really worked. But it's going to have to for the next four months while I masochistically work on that bloody dissertation.

But I digress.

I spent the rest of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon putzing around Ancestry.co.uk. Most of my ancestors are from the Devon/Suffolk/Cambridgeshire/Essex areas of England... at least the ones on my grandma's side of the family... and so I was wading through masses of census images and birth registrations and the like, and realized I've turned into every historian/archivist's worst nightmare - the Family Historian. Don't get me wrong, there are some who know precisely what they're doing (like, say, moi, who knows where the Suffolk and Devon parish records are kept... I'm just too lazy to go there and too poor to pay someone to do the lookup for me). But for everyone one of the good ones, there are about 100 bad ones who make generalizations and attribute completely inaccurate meanings to some of the information they find.

But I digress again.

I decided, around 2 p.m., to take a walk into town. It was sunny, a light breeze... well... more like gale force winds... was blowing. In short, lovely day for a walk, if a little chilly when the wind hit. Mosied into town, stopped at a little deli I love just off the Shambles, and wandered over to the Minster Gardens to eat/read/ponder life (ok, little of the latter was done, but the eating and reading definitely happened). I munched my sandwich whilst leaning against a tree in the shadow of a gothic cathedral, reading Portrait of a Lady. Honestly, what could be more beautiful?

By the time I got too cold (being exposed to the wind and all) it was well after 4, and Evensong at the Minster was at 5:30. So I wandered through the Minster, actually paying attention to everything, even reading the Latin memorial inscriptions in an attempt to prove that the last 6 months of Latin classes haven't been fruitless.

I wish I had any sort of talent and the vocabulary to describe a service in a Gothic cathedral. I can't do it justice, though. My childhood was a fortunate one (I was a chorister in a cathedral choir until I turned 12 and my family moved) in that I was exposed to this sort of music at a young age and learned to appreciate the technical skill involved. CLICK HERE and then listen to the sample of "Evensong at York Minster" to hear the sort of thing I was experiencing today. I suppose I could use phrases like "soaring harmonies floating up to the vaulted ceilings, echoing off the intricately carved stonework niches, spires and the sculpted faces of kings, peasants and saints, as the scarlet-clad choir sings their hymn of praise with resounding bass and painless soprano" but it sounds florid and artificial, like something I could never be a part of. This is what I spent a few years of my childhood doing and to hear it is exquisite, and to realize that I will never be a part of anything so beautiful again is heart-wrenching.

Appropriate for Good Friday, I suppose.

I Am Reading
Academically: Nothing. Took the day off.
For Fun: An Unholy Alliance (Susanna Gregory - finished Portrait in the garden this afternoon)

Inspired by Chautauqua Girl's latest post, I went seeking quizzes. And since I've procrastinated so much with the quizzes, you get no real post today. Sorry.

You Are a Seeker Soul

You are on a quest for knowledge and life challenges. You love to be curious and ask a ton of questions. Since you know so much, you make for an interesting conversationalist. Mentally alert, you can outwit almost anyone (and have fun doing it!). Very introspective, you can be silently critical of others. And your quiet nature makes it difficult for people to get to know you. You see yourself as a philosopher, and you take everything philosophically. Your main talent is expressing and communicating ideas. Souls you are most compatible with: Hunter Soul and Visionary Soul

How You Are In Love

You fall in love quickly and easily. And very often. You tend to take more than give in relationships. You need your space and privacy. You don't like to be smothered. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

I rather disagree with the "and very often" bit... but whatever.

Your 1920's Name is:

Robbie Earline

She's the first person to have sent me 2 letters here in the UK.

Nicely done.

I Am Reading
Academically: English Witchcraft, 1560-1736, Vol. 5 (Edited by Sharpe, Golden and Elmer).
For Fun: Portrait of a Lady (Henry James... still... FYI, I started this at FEP this summer - it's one of those cheap Chapters editions in the red cover).

How much I hate shopping for clothes?

Anywho.

I decided to take my mother's advice today, and wander into town, just to get the hell off campus and have a change of scenery. So I took some books to Starbucks, sat and had a coffee for a couple of hours (and actually _did_ get some reading done), popped into the Body Shop, and then realized I was on Stonegate.

Ahh... Stonegate...

Home of many antique shops.

This is a bit deadly considering my slight fetish for all things Victorian that I developed this summer. I also have a friend with a slight fetish for all things art-deco/20's.

So I popped into the Antiques Centre to look around. I didn't spend anything (haven't gotten the transfer of "birthday money" I'm expecting... but then, my birthday's not for another 21 days... and my upcoming birthday, my friends, is a post in and of itself for the mental anguish it's causing me). But holy crap, could I have spent a shitload of money in there. Granted, most of it would have been on presents for people I know (I mean, really, there were antique cameras! I dunno if any of them were old enough - didn't get a good look at all of them... but there were antique cameras! And the costume jewelry! And the matchboxes... and the cigarette cases... and... and...) rather than for myself (but shit, there was some nice Victorian jewellery... and a great 1900 watch... and... and...).

Right, get ahold of yourself.

This evening, however, I popped out with a friend and went to a store that sells clothes of the more modern variety. And I was reminded, yet again, that I have a body that was meant to have lived at least 100 years ago.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have curves.

I am not flat, rectangular, straight up and down. I have an hourglass figure that would look absolutely SWANK in one of those waist-cinching 1900s corsets, people! This means that my waist is several inches smaller than my hips, people. Why is it that no manufacturer of pants/skirts/dresses seems to understand that these days? Honestly! So yet again, I have had to pass up a lovely pair of pants because, to get them to fit through the hips, I have had to size up, thus leaving a massive gape where the waistband does not taper in at all. This is not to mention the issues I am already having - depending on the fit of clothing, I'm anywhere from a 12 to a 14 back home. Here, you automatically size up. A 12 US/CDN is a 14 here. And lord, do I have a mental inhibition about buying anything that has the number 16 printed inside. (Ok, I know that technically my costume at FEP was a 16... but for some reason I don't feel bad about that...because my body was made for those sorts of clothes and I looked oddly good in something that would have been worn 120 years ago).

I did find a nice tank top, though, and it was only 5 quid, so I'm not completely desolate. Nonetheless, I feel the need to point out that I may be buying my next pair of jeans from that Levis site that builds you customized jeans according to your measurements. Or the Gap. Somehow the GAP (shudder) manages to make pants that fit me. I hate it when the companies I don't like actually make the products that fit/work/are comfiest (ie: that is why I own Nike sport sandals).

Right.

Back to sex with the devil.

That's what my paper's on, folks. I'm not actually having sex with the devil. It's supposed to be cold and nasty anyway. Not the sort of thing you want to be spending your spare time doing.

I am reading
Academically: Thinking With Demons (Stuart Clark), Malleus Maleficarum (Kramer and Sprenger - in English translation, my Latin's not THAT good yet)
For fun: Portrait Of A Lady (Henry James)

**I decided to add this bit since I have lots of friends that are readers. Hopefully I'll remember to add it to all posts from now on.

March 30/06 ctd.
The third guy looked rather like he could have been baby-face's older brother. Either way, they were just as much fun to watch as the 'real' scenery.

5:00 p.m.
I probably could have spent the whole cruise just looking at them. But the fjord is gorgeous - there are famine walls all over the hills to either side, which really gives you a sense of just how poor some of these people were during the famine. There are visible signs of aquaculture all along the fjord - barrels are strung together in a line on the surface, and underneath there are ropes that hang down that mussels cling to. Ther ewere also salmon pens and you could see them breaking the surface as they fed, shining in the sun.

We had another pub lunch, and the afternoon was spent shopping. Oy. I swear if I have to go to another scheduled shop I might cry - but that's what this afternoon was all about. The first shop was a place that specialized in Connemarra marble, mostly green marble. There was some lovely stuff, but since I have no room for knick-knacks and haven't changed my jewelry in six months, I ended up not buying anything.

5:30 p.m.
The next stop was at a place called Celtic Crystal. Which was pretty nifty, but, again, I don't have room for knick-knacks, not to mention that I wouldn't have wanted to take anything crystal home on a plane with me. It's the only place that does particularly Irish designs in the crystal - they cut things like the Claddagh Ring and the Boru Harp into the crystal. Apparently an apprenticeship takes 7 years before you're allowed to go on and do some of the major exhibition pieces (like the one pictured below, which is fricking huge - probably about 1.5 meters tall). Nutty. But the coolest part was probably seeing the guy just whip off a piece of the stuff in front of us. (See it there, to the right, above?) Took him, like, 3 minutes to get the celtic designwork around the edges done and the Irish rose on the bottom. All freehand. An open space at the top of the bowl became a claddagh in about 2 minutes more. I was thoroughly impressed. Perhaps the most impressive moment of the day, though, was when M1 got off the bus and practically RAN into the bloody shop. For an old and decrepit woman she can certainly move really frickin fast when she wants to. She was off the bus and through the door of the shop before most of us had even stood up.

Our third stop of the day was at yet another bloody tweed/wool/tacky souvenir shop. I don't know how more of this I can take.

Japan is playing Equador in a world cup prelim match right now, so I'm watching that on TV. It's the last dinner with the whole tour group tonight at 7, and I hope I get to see the end of the game!

March 31, 2006
10:55 a.m.
There are only 9 out of 20 people that were originally on the tour left now. The rest needed to be at Shannon airport at god awful hours of the morning this morning, but the 9 of us fly out of Dublin, so we get a few extra stops on the tour. My flight leaves at 9:10 this evening, and, assuming it's on time, I should be back in York around 11:30 p.m.

We stopped in Galway proper this morning for a couple of hours of shopping - we're about to pull out and head to our next stop. I must admit that it was rather refreshing to go to a shopping mall - they don't really exist on this side of the ocean, except in very rare spots, so it was a slight slice of home. The mall in Galway is interesting, though, because they've enclosed bits of the medieval city within it. There are a couple of 12th century towers that are being used as shops at the moment - one is a cheesy heraldry/family coat-of-arms shop, and the other is a fortune-teller's/tarot reader's place. They've also built up part of the mall to look like a medieval street which was pretty neat.

6:40 p.m.
I ended up making some purchases that were entirely un-Irish of me, but that I know will probably keep me entertained for a while. I bought the book "Keeping Faith" by Jodi Picoult (I'm really enjoying her stuff lately - it's so different from what I study that it's a good breather) and bought some stuff at HMV - Radiohead's "Pablo Honey" (The only RH album I didn't already own), Greenday's "American Idiot" and The Verve's "Urban Hymns". I was super excited and surprised, though, when because I bought something or spent X amount of Euros or whatever, they threw in a free CD of cool up-and-coming Irish music/musicians/artists. I'm lookng forward to getting it home and playing it to see if I can discover the next Damian Rice. Fingers crossed.

We did end up leaving Galway at 11, and drove to Clonmacnoise. On a nice day, I probably would have spent hours wandering through the ruins (Clonmacnoise was a monastery - 6th century origins, most of the ruins dating from the 12th century). It was absolutely pouring rain, though, so most of the visit was confined to the interpretive centre. The centre isn't huge, but has some of the more exotic/elaborate/intricate stonework preserved there. I wasn't about to pass up the opportunity to see it, though, and did go out for about 10 minutes. I got soaked. I still don't think my feet are dry.

And that's where my trip journal ended. My flight was a little delayed getting back to Leeds, and I ended up not getting home until about 12:30 a.m., but it's all good. To sum up, though, I present a few of my general observations on Ireland/traveling/tourism:

• Lambing season is the cutest season to visit Ireland. It has to be. I mean, not only were there lambs, but there were calves and other baby animals. As I mentioned in a previous post, it was almost so cute it burned.
• Irish coffee rocks.
• Guinness DOES taste better in Ireland.
• Tourist traps suck. That's true everywhere, I know. But this really drove it home.
• There is only so much wool/tweed/cheesy shamrock souvenirs a girl can handle
• Irish Gaelic isn't THAT different from Scots Gaelic. I still want to learn Scots, though.
• There are still more pubs in York than there are in most cities in Ireland of a similar size.
• Dublin airport is not a fun place to have to kill 5 hours while waiting for your flight.
• Something will ALWAYS go wrong on a Ryanair flight (both mine were late, the lovely couple I met in Leeds on the way TO Ireland said they'd manage to lose their bags a few times, etc.).
• I need to go back WITH someone - that way I won't be drinking alone =)

And if you would like to see more pics of my trip, then you can CLICK HERE!!!

But continuing my Ireland Adventures... (In which I add photos, b/c I'm home now and can do that).

March 28, 2006
7:30 a.m.

It's fairly awkward kissing that damn stone. You have to lie on your back and bend backwards, holding on to two rails at either side, having a guy hold you around your knees, waist, whatever, so you don't fall down the giant hole. My shoulder has mostly stopped hurting from yesterday but still aches a little.

From the stone it was on to the Blarney Woollen Mills for shopping. Oy. There's only so much shopping one person can do. Seriously. I'm already getting sick of it. I didn't buy much, but the stuff here's cheaper - so I bought a Guinness shirt. Lunch was with the three American sisters in the bar at the mills. I was thinking of buying a bunch of yarn and a knitting pattern to make myself an Arran sweater, but wouldn't have been able to fit it into my suitcase... not to mention that those sweaters ALWAYS make me itchy, no matter what I've got underneath.

From Blarney we moved on to Killarney. We arrived at the hotel about half-five, and I lounged until dinner at 6:45 (at the hotel... kinda wish there were a few more options, but when dinner's included in the cost of the tour...). The hotel is nicer than the one in Dublin and has all sorts of amenities. There's a gym and a pool here, which hotel guests can use. Since I haven't been jogging at all since leaving York, I decided to go swim laps. I had to buy a swim cap. Oh, it was sexy. Really. I've been finding myself stupidly tired in the evenings, though, and was in bed again last night by 10, and I slept until 6:30 this morning.

There was some talk about going on a jaunting car ride out to a local manor house (something only tourists do, but, hey, when in Rome...?). It's pouring rain right now, though, so I don't think we're going to be going - a horse-drawn conveyance wouldn't be particularly pleasant.

10:06 a.m.
We're driving the Ring of Kerry right now, which is basically just a scenic drive through the south of Ireland. The first site/stop was a tweed/woollen shop (notice a trend?) at the Gap of Dunloe.

11:15 a.m.
Just stopped at a little open-air museum called the Kerry Bog Village. It's tiny. About 6 buildings. No interpreters, though, so no chance to pick interpretative brains. I'm sure I must have smelled a peat fire somewhere before, though, because the smell wasn't unfamiliar and was actually kind of comforting. I don't get it. There's no reason for me to feel even remotely at home in this country - and yet I sort of do.

1:25 p.m.
Have just finished lunch at a place called Scarriff. It's this restaurant on a cliff, looking over the Atlantic ocean (first time I've seen the Atlantic!). The sun has come out, more or less. That also means that it's quite clear and you can see a fair way into the distance, so the view is spectacular.

The ground in this part of Ireland is extremely rocky and not particularly useful agriculturally. There are rushes and heather growing in every patch of ground. The mountains have been stripped in several areas by overgrazing, and the grey rock shows through. The gorse is beginning to bloom, so there are patches of bright yellow dotting the otherwise brown/grey landscape.

3:10 p.m.
We've stopped at Moll's gap. Not much here except another bloody woollen store, but the view is stunning yet again. The mountains here part into a bowl-like depression. I'm missing out on some of the greenness of Ireland by not being here in the summer, but you get a sense that it would be even lovelier if some of the plants woke up from their winter sleep.

3:25 p.m.
Ooh! Ooh! Just got to see the lakes of Killarney. Not that that's particularly exciting, but there's a folk song about them, so it's nice to see some of the places that I've been singing about for years on end.

March 29, 2006
8:30 a.m.
You'll never believe what I just watched on TV. She-Ra! Oh yeah. It's on RTÉ 2 this morning. My childhood is coming back to haunt me in small doses.

After stopping to see the lakes we returned to Killarney proper. I went and did a bit of wandering around town, and found an internet café in which to post installment #2 of my trip diary and check my email. Killarney's a fairly small city and is mostly geared towards tourists - so there's not that much to see if you're not into souvenirs. And like I mentioned yesterday, I've been stupid tired at night. Music in the pubs mostly starts around 10, and when I have to be up at 6-something the next day, my body hates me. Needing 8 hours of sleep a night sucks. And I don't really get any recovery time after this trip since I need to write my witchcraft paper right away.

10:25 a.m.
We've stopped a ways out of Listowel at the Tabert ferry crossing over the river Shannon. The weather is beautiful - we've been blessed that way so far - it rains when we're on the bus, but when we're ready to go out and do things it stops. There are only a few wispy clouds in the sky at the moment. You can see for miles. I had to wear my sunglasses.

11:45 a.m.
Just stopped at the small town of Spanish point (called that b/c the Spanish Armada was wrecked near here and many of the Spanish sailors and solderis washed up on shore here... and were promptly killed by the British). The beach is actually sandy, rather than rocky, although there are som rocks that jut up out of the seaweed doesn't smell too bad today. It's thick and flat - almost like strips of heavy-duty oilcloth.

1:10 p.m.
We've stopped at some tiny town called Lahinch on the West Coast where we just had great fish and chips at a pub called O'Looney's. No joke. The service was great, too.

2:30 p.m.
Have just finished visiting the Cliffs of Moher. They are absolutely amazing. My fear of heights mostly kept me well back from the edge, behind the little safety wall, which is fine by me. At the top of the cliffs is O'Brien's Castle...

March 30, 2006
8:50 a.m.
The cliffs make you feel very small. The birds were circling around the cliff face and I imagine that, had the place not been swarming with tourists, it would have been amazingly spiritual. Calming, awe-inspiring... And, oddly, I could see how people - not necessarily even people that we would normally consider suicidal - could just walk straight off the edge. It's so... oddly calm and I can easily see someone wanting to join that calmness. I suppose that on a shitty day it's probably rather the opposite - wavy, stormy, loud crashing waves, a sense of massive power - you'd probably be very humbled, and, again, could just walk straight off the edge.

It began to rain last night as we arrived in Galway. Pour rain, in fact.

2:45 p.m.
But nonetheless I felt th eneed to go for a walk - the food on this trip has been pretty damaging and since I haven't been jogging at all this week I feel like ass. So I walked from Salthill as far as the Spanish Arch in town, took a few pics, turned around and went back to the hotel. It took nearly 1.5 hours.

Dinner was at the hotel, and then I turned in early yet again, only to be woken up at 11 p.m. by my next-door neighbours. There are a couple of very odd people on this tour - M and M. We all thought they were mother and son, but they're not. She's gotta be, like, 70 years old AT LEAST, she's short, fat, obnoxious like you wouldn't believe - she asks questions that have already been answered only five minutes ago, and they're generally restricted to the price of real estate and the social welfare system in Ireland. Her travelling companion (who, I think, she paid to come on this trip with her) is about my age, maybe a little older, and is absolutely flamingly gay. They apparently met because he's a concierge at a hotel where she owns a time share. I can see how they became friends as they're both unfailingly loud and rude. He also has a bit of an obsession with Dolphins.

But anyway, their room is next to mine and she was on the bloody phone jabbering away to someone at home in Connecticut or something, and she seemed to think that because she's 3000 km from home she had to speak 3000 times louder.

4 p.m.
Then I was woken again at 3 a.m. because M2 came home. He must seriously be out trawling, because he hasn't gotten back to the hotel before 3 a.m. yet. And they were laughing and giggling and shouting and being pains in the arse generally. I wanted to pound on the wall and tell them to shut up.

This morning we went to Killary Fjord. We went on a 2-hour Catamaran cruise of the fjord. More for the scenery than anything else. It was fantastic. Not just the scenery, but also the scenery. The three men on the ship's crew were all in their 20s and were all bloody gorgeous. One had a sort of baby face with red hair, another looked like Colin Farrell...

Gotta run - I'll finish this later...