library fine paid.
results received last week.
(drum roll please)
76 on the dissertation (thunk)
a degree average of 69.33%. just under the 70% average needed for a distinction.
am i grateful? well, yes, but still - there is a part of me (squeaking due to being heavily sat on) that is gutted to miss it by so little. even though i figured i wasn't any where near a distinction before, and never dreamed i'd come so close.
in other news i have just made n sit through the entire song of "summer holiday" by dj miker g and dj sven on the off chance that they may have mentioned more place names than london, new york city and amsterdam. they don't. it was awful, granted. i don't know if n was more appalled at the music or by the fact that i knew far more of the lyrics then mere coincidence would suggest.
the quest for place names is an ongoing obsession of mine to find songs that list multiple places. the above atrocity does not count as three places do not qualify for list status. so far i have 11 songs - any more for me?
Friday, 26 November 2010
Thursday, 18 November 2010
it was a tie
i am mostly shorn. with side bits. it looks lovely, and who am i to argue with d? she obviously has knowledge not available to us mortals least of all me who considers blow-drying to be a major time investment and who has never mastered any usage whatsoever of "product".
i like it. i think, anyways.
the exam board met on tuesday which means results should be imminent. i've been checking regularly - ok, obsessively these past days but no joy. then, this afternoon, a screen flicker, followed by a bright red notice saying - "you are not authorised to view this page because you owe the university money". gulp - you mean it wasn't a scholarship? was my first thought. but no, further reading elicited the information that i owed money to the library. it turns out that i had a £9 library fine that i had only vaguely recollected. (i almost typed "relocated". they are deliciously similar, no?) anyways i rang the library, paid the fine over the phone, and the lovely librarian, who, i imagine is taking lot of these calls, asked if i was waiting for results, and if so, it would be at least 24 hours as she had to fill out some paper or other and forward it to registry. argghhh. i suppose at least i didn;t find out i still had a book on loan that had been collecting overdue fees for the last 6 months, but still. my curiosity/dread is becoming unbearable.
(note to self - return knitting book by bed that is collecting overdue fees...)
speaking of knitting, i have been knitting delightful little baby mittens (sans thumbs) for darling a, they are teensy tiny, and knit on four double point needles. they have a cable running up the front to match the hat, and when i'm knitting with the cable needle as well i look like i am wrestling a small oddly coloured porcupine.
and i wonder why people give me funny looks on the train
i like it. i think, anyways.
the exam board met on tuesday which means results should be imminent. i've been checking regularly - ok, obsessively these past days but no joy. then, this afternoon, a screen flicker, followed by a bright red notice saying - "you are not authorised to view this page because you owe the university money". gulp - you mean it wasn't a scholarship? was my first thought. but no, further reading elicited the information that i owed money to the library. it turns out that i had a £9 library fine that i had only vaguely recollected. (i almost typed "relocated". they are deliciously similar, no?) anyways i rang the library, paid the fine over the phone, and the lovely librarian, who, i imagine is taking lot of these calls, asked if i was waiting for results, and if so, it would be at least 24 hours as she had to fill out some paper or other and forward it to registry. argghhh. i suppose at least i didn;t find out i still had a book on loan that had been collecting overdue fees for the last 6 months, but still. my curiosity/dread is becoming unbearable.
(note to self - return knitting book by bed that is collecting overdue fees...)
speaking of knitting, i have been knitting delightful little baby mittens (sans thumbs) for darling a, they are teensy tiny, and knit on four double point needles. they have a cable running up the front to match the hat, and when i'm knitting with the cable needle as well i look like i am wrestling a small oddly coloured porcupine.
and i wonder why people give me funny looks on the train
Wednesday, 17 November 2010
random onions
somehow time has run away with me lately. i was super crazy busy at work all through october, and then then the week or so of recovery time i gave myself morphed into - well, another half month. oops. i'm slowly getting it back together though - by it, i mean my life outside work.
i've been knitting throughout - oh yes, even finishing (finally) the latest baby blanket - the one i would have finished last week if i had bloody known how to count. (see previous posts). anyways, the rest was easier, and it does look ok i think. it's washed, wrapped and ready to go.
n's hat appears to be doomed. the first hat project i gave up because i'd ordered the wrong type of yarn, (and couldn't really knit yet - details details). then we picked a new one which i started yesterday but alas, it is not to be. he will just have to wait. maybe it is a mythical thing - like the boyfriend jumper - and it is better not to disturb the curse.
humph has taken to staring quizzically into the middle distance which is giving n and i the creeps - it looks like he can plainly see something we cannot, and he stares so intently it freaks us out. "what do you see? who's there?" we implore, but he just sighs, shakes himself slightly and goes back to licking the couch or whatever he was doing. creepy. the licking the couch thing is not at all creepy, just disgusting. dog tongue on leather. bleh.
and it is winter. winter-coat winter. i know i know - it is not the canadian prairies and i have nothing to complain about and anyways being canadian i should really be used to this sort of thing (oh if i had a pound for every time i heard that). but it is dark, and even my love of pub fireplaces and oxtail stew cannot take that away. cozy is only as cozy does, and it does not help in getting out of bed on cold dark wet mornings.
so tomorrow i shall cheer myself up by chopping off all of my hair. or rather, delegating the task to my hairdresser, d. whether or not she will approve of the endeavor remains to be seen - i am fully prepared to argue if needs be. i have never yet won a battle with her so it should be interesting to see how it pans out. but it's either swimming or hair, and anyways it's time for a change.
wish me luck
i've been knitting throughout - oh yes, even finishing (finally) the latest baby blanket - the one i would have finished last week if i had bloody known how to count. (see previous posts). anyways, the rest was easier, and it does look ok i think. it's washed, wrapped and ready to go.
n's hat appears to be doomed. the first hat project i gave up because i'd ordered the wrong type of yarn, (and couldn't really knit yet - details details). then we picked a new one which i started yesterday but alas, it is not to be. he will just have to wait. maybe it is a mythical thing - like the boyfriend jumper - and it is better not to disturb the curse.
humph has taken to staring quizzically into the middle distance which is giving n and i the creeps - it looks like he can plainly see something we cannot, and he stares so intently it freaks us out. "what do you see? who's there?" we implore, but he just sighs, shakes himself slightly and goes back to licking the couch or whatever he was doing. creepy. the licking the couch thing is not at all creepy, just disgusting. dog tongue on leather. bleh.
and it is winter. winter-coat winter. i know i know - it is not the canadian prairies and i have nothing to complain about and anyways being canadian i should really be used to this sort of thing (oh if i had a pound for every time i heard that). but it is dark, and even my love of pub fireplaces and oxtail stew cannot take that away. cozy is only as cozy does, and it does not help in getting out of bed on cold dark wet mornings.
so tomorrow i shall cheer myself up by chopping off all of my hair. or rather, delegating the task to my hairdresser, d. whether or not she will approve of the endeavor remains to be seen - i am fully prepared to argue if needs be. i have never yet won a battle with her so it should be interesting to see how it pans out. but it's either swimming or hair, and anyways it's time for a change.
wish me luck
Wednesday, 3 November 2010
Sunday, 31 October 2010
interview with leonard cohen
(from the guardian, don't have a date)
g: what do you consider your darkest hour?
lc: well i wouldn't tell you about it if i knew. even to talk about oneself in a time like this is a kind of unwholesome luxury. i don't think i've had a darkest hour compared to the dark hours that so many people are involved in right now. large numbers of people are dodging bombs, having their nails pulled out in dungeons, facing starvation, disease. i mean large numbers of people. so i think that we've really got to be circumspect about how seriously we take our own anxieties today.
g: what do you consider your darkest hour?
lc: well i wouldn't tell you about it if i knew. even to talk about oneself in a time like this is a kind of unwholesome luxury. i don't think i've had a darkest hour compared to the dark hours that so many people are involved in right now. large numbers of people are dodging bombs, having their nails pulled out in dungeons, facing starvation, disease. i mean large numbers of people. so i think that we've really got to be circumspect about how seriously we take our own anxieties today.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
Monday, 11 October 2010
Saturday, 9 October 2010
songs loved purely due to particular lines
"i get the news i need from the weather report
oh i get all the news i need from the weather report"
simon and garfunkel, the only living boy in new york
"wearing smells from laboratories..."
hair, let the sunshine in
"i asked hank williams how lonely does it get, but hank williams hasn't answered yet"
leonard cohen, tower of song
"then i'll join in matrimony with the girl who serves spumoni"
louis prima, angelina
(closely followed by an earlier line - "i eat antipasti twice just because she is so nice"
you?
oh i get all the news i need from the weather report"
simon and garfunkel, the only living boy in new york
"wearing smells from laboratories..."
hair, let the sunshine in
"i asked hank williams how lonely does it get, but hank williams hasn't answered yet"
leonard cohen, tower of song
"then i'll join in matrimony with the girl who serves spumoni"
louis prima, angelina
(closely followed by an earlier line - "i eat antipasti twice just because she is so nice"
you?
Saturday, 2 October 2010
pork chops
i realise equating food with higher philosophical ideals can be problematic - freedom fries or mecca cola, anyone?
but to me, pork chops = freedom.
i mean, OBVIOUSLY (*eye roll*) in a sardonic/ironic white middle class woolly liberal sense.
but also no. also in an uncool un-intelligent-freedom-fries sort of way.
when i went back to university, i'd been sometimes traveling but mostly working for 12 years, and the opportunity to cook food at home, during the day, was intoxicating. when i had the time, i would often cook myself a pork chop - rubbed in a sluice of garlic, rosemary, salt, pepper and olive oil, with a side of sautéed spinach (in butter of course) and new potatoes, crushed with the back of a fork and swathed in butter and lashings of pork-juices.
i would sit at the table and carefully cut up my chop into 3 parts - fat, heart meat, and bone. then i'd settle in, open the newspaper, and munch my way through first the heart meat - tea towel at the ready to swipe fingers and reduce grease marks on the edges of the paper - alternated by scoops of mashed potatoes and spinach - and then, paper down out of respect at this point, full attention to the bone, slurping out all the best bits. the fat cut up for the birds.
i loved those lunches - the first i'd cooked alone, just for me, in years and years. to eat at the table with my fingers, reading a paper - delicious.
tonight n & s are playing at a pub down the road. i'm getting over a cold and i'm working all this weekend and next as well - a 21 day stretch. i've begged off. instead i've spent the evening talking to my mom in canada, and getting to bed early.
and cooking and eating a fat pork chop with a side of spinach and crushed potatoes.
freedom chops
but to me, pork chops = freedom.
i mean, OBVIOUSLY (*eye roll*) in a sardonic/ironic white middle class woolly liberal sense.
but also no. also in an uncool un-intelligent-freedom-fries sort of way.
when i went back to university, i'd been sometimes traveling but mostly working for 12 years, and the opportunity to cook food at home, during the day, was intoxicating. when i had the time, i would often cook myself a pork chop - rubbed in a sluice of garlic, rosemary, salt, pepper and olive oil, with a side of sautéed spinach (in butter of course) and new potatoes, crushed with the back of a fork and swathed in butter and lashings of pork-juices.
i would sit at the table and carefully cut up my chop into 3 parts - fat, heart meat, and bone. then i'd settle in, open the newspaper, and munch my way through first the heart meat - tea towel at the ready to swipe fingers and reduce grease marks on the edges of the paper - alternated by scoops of mashed potatoes and spinach - and then, paper down out of respect at this point, full attention to the bone, slurping out all the best bits. the fat cut up for the birds.
i loved those lunches - the first i'd cooked alone, just for me, in years and years. to eat at the table with my fingers, reading a paper - delicious.
tonight n & s are playing at a pub down the road. i'm getting over a cold and i'm working all this weekend and next as well - a 21 day stretch. i've begged off. instead i've spent the evening talking to my mom in canada, and getting to bed early.
and cooking and eating a fat pork chop with a side of spinach and crushed potatoes.
freedom chops
Friday, 24 September 2010
the knitting idiot
the knitting idiot copies the pattern from the net and does not copy the picture. "who needs the picture?" the knitting idiot asks."i know what it looks like."
the knitting idiot feels something may not be quite right. "i will just keep knitting," the knitting idiot says. "it will work out as the pattern progresses."
this knitting idiot did both the above, not noticing the MASSIVE difference between what was coming off the needles and the 281 pictures of the blanket in ravelry until 38 rows of 125 stitches were completed when finally, unable to quell that nascent knitting gut instinct that had been alternating between screaming and whimpering for the past week, finally looked closely at some of those 281 pictures and had to admit that my blanket looked nothing like them.
not that mine looks bad. no. perhaps, i thought, i can just call this a pattern alteration and keep going. but alas, my knitting gut is having none of it. "knit a swatch" it growled. "knit a PROPER swatch."
the proper swatch is much much better.
and now i have to rip it all out and start again. for the second time.
and i have no one to blame but myself.
knitting. isn't it soothing and relaxing!
excuse me while i retrieve my needles from the windowsill where i've violently hurled them in disgust...
the knitting idiot feels something may not be quite right. "i will just keep knitting," the knitting idiot says. "it will work out as the pattern progresses."
this knitting idiot did both the above, not noticing the MASSIVE difference between what was coming off the needles and the 281 pictures of the blanket in ravelry until 38 rows of 125 stitches were completed when finally, unable to quell that nascent knitting gut instinct that had been alternating between screaming and whimpering for the past week, finally looked closely at some of those 281 pictures and had to admit that my blanket looked nothing like them.
not that mine looks bad. no. perhaps, i thought, i can just call this a pattern alteration and keep going. but alas, my knitting gut is having none of it. "knit a swatch" it growled. "knit a PROPER swatch."
the proper swatch is much much better.
and now i have to rip it all out and start again. for the second time.
and i have no one to blame but myself.
knitting. isn't it soothing and relaxing!
excuse me while i retrieve my needles from the windowsill where i've violently hurled them in disgust...
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