Christmas around the world

In the US our relatives have probably not been long up. In Birmingham and Yorkshire they are probably well into Christmas lunch. In New Zealand, its been over for some time. In Cambridge, we are, well, not doing much, but waiting the arrival of a different baby still. Its all a bit odd.

Finally on maternity leave...

...but did not envisage spending most of it waiting for, and trying to be patient on, unreliable snow-hindered buses.

Theory and practice

My theory was that having gone on leave from work I would still be doing a couple of hours a day, because there were unfinished ends I felt I should tie up but hadn't had time and felt bad about this. The practice so far is that I just can't be bothered! I guess that my change if the bump makes me wait beyond the due date. What will my excuse be then? Right now it is that I have some pastry to roll out.

Vote splitting

Amongst the breaking "news" on BBC Breakfast this morning was the top five Christmas carols as voted for by a couple of contingencies (Radio Times readers and Classic FM listeners). My favourite made into the top five twice, as different versions. Does that mean it would have won if the vote hadn't been split? (Also glad to know I'm not alone in really liking this carol, 'In the Bleak Midwinter').

Advent calendar sessions again

The idea behind the bump's advent calendar was to tell it part of the Christmas story as we opened the windows but (a) not all the pictures are helpful - where did the lantern or sheepdog come into it? and (b) the parents-to-be are not that good at remembering details or even the words to Christmas carols that the pictures suggest to us. So, finally, I have tracked down some CDs of Christmas music/carols to play in lieu of mother only remembering the odd line here and there. Hope they are worth it.

Advent - it's arrived!

Having excitedly presented the boy with my advent calendar on Sunday, it having been the first day of Advent, it was pointed out to me that the chocolate advent calendar started on 1 Dec not 29 Nov. But today, according to the advent calendar anyway, it is Advent. So hurrah! Bump has one too, but just with pictures.

Annoying "Christmas" advertising slogans

At the moment I'm trying to decide which of the following I dislike more:

1. Ann Summers: Have a Horny Christmas
2. MacDonalds: Salivation is Nigh

Both are tasteless, so I suppose I don't have to choose. I'm just hoping not to have to add more to the list.

Pregnancy musings (6)

Last weekend my sister and her brood of four came over from Birmingham for a viewing of the bump (we had not seen them since announcing bump to the world). My brother-in-law commented that I "carried it all on the front" (I had not been aware there was another option), whilst my youngest England-based nephew said "I don't mean to be rude, but are you pregnant or have you already had the baby?" (which confused me somewhat, sitting there as I was doing a rather good impression of Obelix). And bump is definitely growing apace: my stomach has started emitting noises from somewhere I was sure I had left my lungs, and my lung capacity has definitely reduced again. Bump's new rule (and it has been issued with many) is to stay put for at least another two weeks and to be at least 5lb in weight (otherwise it will be "Destination: plastic-box land" and neither mother nor child are likely to like that).

Remembrance Day

In Britain this was the first anniversary of the Armistice ending WW1 to pass without the attendance of eye-witnesses, the last three veterans residing in the U.K. having died in the past year. A British soldier from the war still lives, but in Perth, Australia.

In another connection between Australia and WW1, I have had in my possession for some months the 1916 diary of a friend's grandfather, which I offered to transcribe for her (although with pregnancy there has been a major hiatus on this front). So, to mark the war, lest we forget, I have flipped forward to 11 November 1916:

"There was a straff of unusual violence last night
our first Div had ten guns blown out we never heard if any of the men got knocked
it has been rather a fine day & the mud is like glue a mans feet weigh somewhere near 1 cwt
Fritz put some busters very near us last night & today"

Pregnancy musings (5)

As a PhD student I took over three years to formulate an answer to a question no-one else was really interested in. I don't feel this equips me to come to a snap decision about whether to have the swine-flu vaccine. I'm trained to want to sift lots of evidence about (frankly) unimportant questions, not respond quickly to important questions without sufficient evidence. Feel I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't.

Artefact of the week (2)

Two artefacts from Norwich Cathedral, which I visited on Thursday, for you:
(1) the Despenser reredos
(2) the Pelican lecturn
Both of these survived the Reformation by being hidden: the reredos disguised as a plumber's table, the lecturn buried in a garden. Shame that the powers that be there felt the need to put a hole in the lecturn stand in order to feed a microphone cable through it, though.

Pregnancy musings (4): Bonfire Night

Again with the slightly premature post, but again we'll be away for Bonfire Night.

For some weeks now the boy and I have been reading the bump a bedtime (or in its case a wake-up time) story from the Teddy Robinson books. These are childhood favourites of mine, and generally appreciated by the boy also, even if he isn't so sure about Teddy R's penchant for his best purple dress, or the propensity to dress up in a tutu and do generally girly things. If you are unfamiliar with Teddy R you can read a favourable review here, or here. But we did get a scare the other night: the story (one I definitely don't recall from childhood) was 'Teddy Robinson and Guy Fawkes' (or as it was read out by the boy, 'Teddy Robinson and the Hate Crime'), and it was essentially a deeply disturbing conversation between a Guy, who was really looking forward to being burnt, and TR. As some of my Teddy R books lack substantial quantities of their page edges (I used to tear them off and chew them), we're wondering if the bump will notice if we rip this particular story out. Its a hard thing for bibliophiles to consider, but, gosh, if you'd read the story you might appreciate where we are coming from.

As its almost Halloween...

...and I won't be near a computer when it is, I share my Halloween cookies with you, provided by the mother-in-law, and posted, at considerable expense, from Wisconsin. There were 36 when they arrived over a week ago, and we're hoping to have some left by the time All Souls arrives. Having seen the postage I can more fully appreciate the response to the light-hearted suggestion that we "ought" now to be receipt of cookies for three.

Autumn love

This can be my favourite season when it behaves properly: autumnal sunshine, crisp coloured leaves underfoot, and, as it gets colder, sparkly pavements to walk on, not to mention some decent local apple varieties (if you can get your hands on them). I don't appreciate the nights drawing in so much, especially as the new cohort of students in town (as usual) think they are visible without bike lights and that it is their right to cycle on the pavements. But, as that isn't autumn's fault, I'll let it pass. One of my favourite things to do at this time of year, especially once the clocks have gone back next week, is to go to evensong in Durham cathedral; sit in the choir stalls, mainly in the gloom, and feel the full force of the prayer to protect you from the dangers of the night, knowing you are going to walk out into night at 5.55pm or so. It just isn't the same in the summer. If I'd blogged again last week, there would have been much on the indignity of being a research gopher, so you can be thankful perhaps that the indignities kept me busy.

Pregnancy musings (3)

Having suffered two weeks of his mother sitting in a silent archive, dull for mother and child, it must be time to start the 'musical education' of said child. Or at least give him something to listen to. So today's playlist starts with 'Bat Out of Hell III'. We'll have to come up with something as a nice counterpoint to this for later in the day.

Office gremlins

When a girl doesn't use her office more or less for six months, she can expect to find that:

• the number of chairs which have come to die there have substantially multiplied (it costs money to get them officially removed when dead)
• at least three gerbils have died in the desktop since last usage

Pregnancy musings (2)

Just wondering how large you have to get before someone offers you their seat on public transport rather than clocking your bump and then looking at the floor? What fun a one and a half - two hour commute across London into the archive that was last week: that's that long one way. (So looking forward to doing it again this week). And a similar question about individuals with no pool ettiquette: how long before they think 'Hmm, that lady is a wide load, perhaps I'll give her a little extra space?' I'm hoping, mainly for my opinion of my fellow countrymen, that as I increase further, offers of seats will occur. But for the pool sharks, I fear there is no hope.

Paris, then and now

Then was January 1989, now September 2009. Then I was on a very short school trip for French A-level students, more recently visiting the Sorbonne for a medieval history conference. Then I could speak French (or so I thought), and couldn't get anyone to speak French to me; more recently I couldn't get anyone to speak English to help me out with my completely corroded school-girl French (never so embarrasing as in an internet cafe - why had I not considered that I had no internet or computer-related vocabulary to dredge up from the back of my mind?) Then, being a self-hating almost 17 year old, I hardly ate; last week, being a pregnant lady of six months, that was hardly the case. But there were parallels too. Then we mainly saw the outside of buildings (presumably because we could not afford to go inside); and this month I again mainly saw the outside of buildings, having been in town for a different purpose than to sight-see. So Paris remains to be 'done'. Perhaps sooner than in another twenty years, mais qui sait?

Pregnancy musings (1)

Now at twenty-four weeks plus, my main thoughts (other than panic, worry and stress) have revolved around why it is apparently impossible to purchase maternity clothes in England, other than online. In a moderate sized town (Cambridge) one is told, I'm sorry but only our major stores carry maternity clothes - shop online. In a much bigger town, and more a city in the modern sense (Newcastle-upon-Tyne), one finds again the injunction to shop online, although one can of course go to Dotty P's which, allegedly, has a maternity 'range'. Having last shopped in 'Dorothy Perkin's' over twenty years ago, I was less than keen to grace its doors. But in one trots, and, yes, the maternity 'range' appears to be aimed at the average age of the Dotty P customer. Does this tell us something about teenage pregnancy rates in Britain? Some relief was found in Birmingham, thankfully, but not as much as you'd think. And Marks and Spencer was particularly disappointing and awful. So I suspect that those pregnant ladies who don't have access to the internet are forced to have recourse to the leggings and a baggy t-shirt option, suggested to me by a sales person in a Newcastle store, 'hen'. Fine for at home, but if you need something smart for work? Oeuf, c'est terrible.

August culture vultures (3)

As the next weekend quickly approaches, a note about the last. Our cultural offering then was an outdoor performance of 'Measure for Measure' as part of the Cambridge Shakespeare Festival. When I booked the tickets I couldn't recall the plot, but that came back to me within minutes of the show. Having been to some pretty ropey outdoor productions in the past my expectations weren't high, but it was pleasantly quite good. And, more crucially perhaps, this being England in August, the weather actually held. The rest of the weekend, like much of the week preceding it, was dominated by cake. Some formed part of the theatre picnic, having adapted a friend's recipe for blackberry muffins. The rest provided at a rowing bunfight on the Sunday. You should note the similarly between W1 (women's first boat) and WI (the Women's Institute). It is generally held that we ought to enter/create a WI rowing league, where our cake-fuelled performance and our cakes might be equally judged. Defeat, then, by lean mean crews? We think not.

August culture vultures (2)

Arriving hungry and thirsty for an 'Organ Walking Tour' you have, somewhat dubiously, signed up for perhaps isn't the best way to give the experience its full chance. Part of Cambridge Summer Music Festival (not to be confused with various other concurrent music festivals in Cambridge) this tour involved an introduction to three chapels/churches by an art historian followed by short recitals on their organs. It sounded intriguing, and possibly good. And I think if, like 90%+ of the attending audience, you were signed up members of the 'We know everything about organs in Cambridge' fan club, it was probably fantastic. The boy and I had been more going for the 'get into a historic building and hear about it' part, so the first recital of loud, big organ sounds did nothing for us. It was nice to see Jesus College chapel though (formerly, before the Dissolution, the nunnery of St. Radegund). The second stop was more interesting: All Saints Church. Unlike Jesus, which had been redecorated in the revived Gothic style in the 19th century, this church was built as a showcase of revived Gothic. With the interior all recently restored, the coloured hand-painted wallpapered walls rather took me aback. It's worth a look if you are in the area. The final stop on the tour, sadly, was the boy's own workplace, so there was nothing new to see there.

August culture vultures (1)

August appears to be a time when Cambridge is awash with festivals of various kinds. This weekend the boy went to a concert of early music performed on reconstruction medieval instruments. Myself, I went to the latest exhibition at the FitzWilliam Museum on the influence of Darwin's theories on the art of the time.
nb. the culture content is reduced by taking young children with you, as a museum visit today with a friend and said young children reminded me.

Putting the bumps to bed

To prove there was an excess of coxing recently, a photo from one night of bumps. This corner was Mr. Asbo's favourite terrorising patch.

History: all in the past?

There has been a sad lack of history related posts recently whilst my life was taken over by coxing, so here I direct you a site concerned with the future of archives in Britain.

Weekends of grace

The boy and I trudged off to the North again last weekend, destination Newcastle RC Cathedral, for the ordination of a former housemate. Given that this housemate had a long and arduous journey even to be accepted as a candidate for priesthood, before we consider the last six years spent in college (again), it was great to see this landmark moment reached. And he looked so happy. The boy, in consequence, kept grinning inanely all weekend, because it had been so good to see a happy ending/beginning. We finished the weekend off with a stop off at Mount Grace Priory, literally (and death-defyingly) just off the A1. This had been recommended to us as a good stop when we visited Durham at Easter and had been watching 'Into Great Silence'. At Mount Grace you get a better sense of the largely individual lives that the Carthusian monks lived. I'd pass on the recommendation, especially if you don't have long - we spent an hour there and weren't rushed - but you do take your life in your hands getting back onto the A1. Slip-roads guys, slip-roads.

Conferences are bad for you...

...because you are

• under-exercised
• over-fed
• and full of rage at the laziness of those conference attendees for whom the courtesy of bothering to shape (and time) a paper so that it can be tolerably listened to is a step too far

Good weekends, bad weekends

Over the past month contributions to redeeming weekends have included:

1. pancakes for breakfast, courtesy of the husband





a walk down memory lane (here a shot from the undercroft, the Norman chapel, of Durham castle)





taking time to smell the roses (at Anglesey Abbey)

These have had to compete against

1. catching a summer cold from one's godson


2. sunburning oneself to within an inch of flayed whilst coxing


3. witnessing the near disaster of a crockery-bearing shelf give way, and the hoover giving up the ghost

But in the long-run the good points outlast the bad.