simply the beth

More sentences

2012-01-30T22:40:00.000Z

"Where is Rabbit?" (says the boy holding said toy behind his back)

And lots more not quite so perfect sentence chatter. Particularly involving the throwing of sand onto the floor at nursery, thus: "Carl floor sand, did it" (and in any other order really).

Leaps and bounds

2012-01-29T21:43:00.000Z

"Four, six, one more, digger, dune buggy": this car counting tutorial comes to you from the young master.

"Daddy did that lego". Carl's brilliant sentence (if the proud mommy says so herself).

Things to do in Ely when you're wee (3)

2012-01-14T21:56:00.001Z

I have been slack in reporting, excuse me, but I have been busy screaming all day. I know it frustrates mother no end when, a two-year old such as myself, who can communicate quite complex things if he wishes, decides to fall back on the tried and tested and enjoy a day of throwback.

So, things to do in Ely since I last told you, 15 months ago. Hmmm. There are still some good free ones. Our weekends focus around the library and playgrounds, obviously. More Ely specific are lorry (truck) watching down at the level-crossing, and rampaging around the cathedral. Wish mom had taken a photo of their Christmas tree - it was a beauty and really tall (or high, as I like to say). I like the singing in the cathedral, the really high ceiling, and lighting candles, as well as the hugeness of it. (And, yes, of course mother is trying to get me to appreciate historic buildings from an early age).

2011 was also the year of baby signing and baby music (having given up the swimming due to the temperature of the pool). I did two terms of one and one term of the other. Baby signing was fun, mainly for the biscuits (by the end I'd graduated onto nicking the adults' chocolate ones), and watching what older children got up to. I started signing after we finished going to classes. Baby music was also cool. We chose Music to Grow to over Monkey Music. Wish I could still go but mom's new job is full-time so I can't. I guess I get to do loads of stuff at nursery, so perhaps mom should try and shrug off her middle-class-mommyhood guilt.

There and back again (but with many less adventures)

2012-01-13T15:34:00.001Z

So, I was sadly right about the good intentions/resolutions not lasting long, viz. nothing more to report on that front. Been quite a time actually as the larger of the two boys has been ill for some time. Spent most of last week saying, 'look I don't have to go to this conference', to be told, 'no, no, you go, we'll be fine'. Until the night before the conference. Then it was no longer fine. Then 24 hours later a reversal of opinion had me getting up at 5am to start the taxi, train, train, conference journey. Two papers in before I got summoned back south: taxi, train, train, train, train. The elder boy has gone back into work today. Hoping he does not exhaust himself as I would like five minutes off this weekend!

2012 already

2012-01-02T22:20:00.001Z

The year in which I turn forty (how did that happen?). New Year's resolution is do something nice for myself every day. Anyone who knows me at all well, will know being nice to me isn't something I'm great at, so this is quite a resolution.
Day 1: not only had a bath, had a long, hot bath.
Day 2: went for a swim.
It's back to work tomorrow, and a new job at that, so that will be when testing the resolution really begins.

The progress towards sentences by the young boy continues, as evidenced by 'noise...daddy...warm', which can be unpacked as '[I can hear a] noise[. It's the water running.] Daddy [is filling the kettle to boil water, which he will use to make my milk] warm.' More usual, of course, is 'No, Mommy, no' as we fight over every imaginable boundary possible.

Family quotes that made me smile this week:
Boy to chocolate bar (Kit-Kat): 'Meow, meow' (the cat obsession continues).
Boy re: Communion Wine: 'Mommy juice'.
Husband on realising that we had Hob Brite because he had refused to let me throw it away despite not having a hob that could be cleaned with it for the past 3 years: 'I'm a nut job, but hurrah for me'.

Christmas Eve services

2011-12-24T22:35:00.000Z

Currently trying to decide if staying awake for midnight mass/communion is a good idea (am guessing I'll stay up for long enough to be exhausted, but not actually go). Only ever made it to a midnight service once, when my little brother was wee: this was then declared verboten as he, rightly, declared it Christmas and wanted to stay up and open all his presents. One, a little stuffed donkey, was allowed. Which brings me on nicely to tonight and the crib service at St. Mary's Ely. We went not only because of the rather nice timing - 5pm and it really was only half an hour - but drawn by the lure of real sheep and donkey. Vicar of Dibley eat your heart out. (Not really, the sheep stayed outside and the carpet the donkey trod was covered in something plastic and protective). Was expecting major fallout once the donkey moment was over, but it was saved by some camel puppets (Cameron and Camilla). Cameron was the not so bright one. Wasn't sure if this was political satire or not. Too many years of watching/being in the Carol Service drama at SBC perhaps. (Just checked out their rather flash website in order to put in that link: the lady second from the left along the top is my old Girls Brigade captain and a LEGEND.) Anyway, whether I make midnight or not, and make it to a church or not, I can tick 'crib service' off the list of services I haven't been to. Now to go wrap some presents I officially haven't bought...

plurals, possessives, and wishful thinking

2011-12-12T18:54:00.001Z

legos
daddy's coat/hat/yogurt
mommy's dog
MINE
mommy gorgeous [ok, that was actually 'mommy, legos!', but for a split second I thought it might be 'mommy gorgeous', aided and abetted here by a nephew who used to come out with the most complimentary and impressive adjectives]

and (amongst others)

2011-12-09T22:36:00.000Z

my daddy gone
my daddy['s] coat
hello rabbit/dog/ooo/etc
Carl['s] hat/coat etc
mess
giraffe
poor mommy
one, two, three, four [where one, two and four are definite concepts, but three may just be a word you say before four]

Forget all other new words:

2011-12-02T10:49:00.001Z

We have hit the true problem word: 'MY'.

And new words for mommy too

2011-11-24T20:32:00.001Z

For the baby:
medicine
away
hop
jump
mouth
another one

For mommy:
skuttlebutt

Or...

2011-11-18T20:27:00.000Z

...Halloween, sparkly, wiggle.

Did I mention...?

2011-11-16T20:46:00.003Z

again
away
dolphin
rough
smooth

And...

2011-11-14T20:44:00.000Z

circle!
bigger
hair
comb

More words

2011-11-10T22:19:00.000Z

and/or some old words joined up:

yellow digger
red car
green car
big lorry
trousers

Feeling festive?

2011-11-09T16:21:00.000Z

I was deputed by the boy yesterday to buy some religious Christmas stamps. Over here in UK-land, if you ask for Christmas stamps at the post office, you get whatever secular stamps are on offer that year (Wallace and Gromit, Rudolph, Father Christmas). But did you know that you can also get religious Christmas stamps, but that you have to specifically ask for them? I didn't until the boy (the USA born boy) told me a couple of years ago. So, off I went to support the concept of religious Christmas stamps, quite aware that I no longer knew how much stamps cost. The last time I could say with any certainty what the price of a 2nd class stamp was, it was 19p, and that was some time (one might almost say decades) ago. So I fully expected a 2nd class stamp to cost about what I thought a first class stamp might now cost. No, nowhere near. On the other hand, I have made a serious investment in easily lost, slightly sticky pieces of paper.

To which I should add

2011-11-07T22:46:00.001Z

alarm clock
noise
cough
Cheerios
again
pipes
hear/listen
pig

(and many other words I am too tired to remember now)

Snapshot

2011-10-31T23:14:00.001Z

For my own interest, here is a list of the words a certain 22 month old can say, sign or otherwise communicate.

coat
hat
shoes
socks
trousers

bath
bed
door
keys

bagpuss
bee
bee (meaning any insect)
bear
bird
bunny
cat
chicken
cow
dog
donkey
duck
elephant
frog
horse
lion
mole
monkey
owl
penguin
(polar) bear
rabbit
sheep
spider
sooty

belly button
ears
eyes
fingers
head
heart
knees
nose
toes
tummy

bubble
cuddle
done
go
gone
kiss
listen
more
one more (book)
ready
steady
stop

baby
Cordelia
daddy
Emily
George
grandma
grandpa
lady
Magda
man
Mia
mommy
nanny
people

apple
banana
cake
cheese
custard
fruit
juice
milk
potato
pudding
rice krispies
strawberry
toast
yogurt
weetabix

hallo ("arrow")
phone
goodbye

aeroplane
bus
bicycle
car
lorry
tractor
train

down
down here
down there
here
out
there
up

light
dark

wee wee
poo poo

boogie
book
dance
music
lullaby

drum
shake

excuse me
please

park
slide

Given that that is almost certainly not a full list, its a shame he spends most of his time going 'ugh, ugh, ugh, wa-wa-wa-wa'. But not sure he is dealing well with Daddy being out all the time fixing up the new house.

in praise of the NHS

2011-10-18T22:12:00.000+01:00

I'm sure there's plenty to be said against the NHS, but when you need an ambulance because your child can't breathe and it turns up with efficient and pleasant staff minutes later, there's a lot to be said for not having to worry about whether you can pay for this emergency care or not. 'Rip off Britain' it might be, but the NHS is still a jewel in its crown. Stopping here before I get drawn into politics. Plus then I might get to sleep some.

simply the beth buys a house - day 3

2011-10-16T22:55:00.000+01:00

On which we discover more reasons why the estate agent blurb 'like a new build' meant less 'really well finished' and more 'thrown together'. At least the structure itself (an ex-council house from 1950) isn't thrown together.

simply the beth buys a house - day 2

2011-10-15T22:18:00.000+01:00

in which I have a 'good' idea, and take the toddler curtain shopping, having been up much of the night with said [ill] child, and end up frustrated with the pace of walking in Cambridge, with a frustrated boy (at being confined to pushchair), and not so much as looking at fabrics, but somehow purchasing a soft, furry animal. The husband said: '"Oh, and we have a cow..." will go down in texting history.' Net gain: one cow. Progress on house front: less impressive.

simply the beth buys a house - day 1

2011-10-14T22:14:00.000+01:00

So, this is property ownership. Of course, it doesn't feel like it, as I'm typing this from the rental place where I'll be living for another month yet, but we start paying in earnest today. I'm glad to say that the turf that was supposed to have been laid has been, even if it is merely resting on top of recently mown of thistles. The garden was a big reason why I bought the house so I was very unhappy when even yesterday afternoon, the garden was nought but a thistle jungle. The boy went off to water the turf 3 hours ago....I'm beginning to wonder where he is (the new place is about 5 minutes cycle away). Not much more to report: except that the estate agent thought I was off my rocker when she understood I was going to change the locks. Apparently, she had never considered the possibility that there could be n number of keys out there, and that changing the locks might be a good idea. And this when I was handed 3 keys for the back door, 3 keys for the French windows, and 2 keys for the front door.

It's done, but it doesn't feel real

2011-10-10T15:59:00.002+01:00

That is to say we have bought a house. Or at least we have given away all the money we had, and now owe a lot of money to the bank, and have a smaller box to move into, which is, sort of, ours. Trying to turn the negative energy and general feeling of doom into positive, "I-can-do-this"-ness.

Breathe, and feel the love

2011-09-08T10:15:00.000+01:00

That is what I am trying to do. Breathe through the frustration of dealing with a lawyer who does not appear to understand Contract Law. No, dear lawyer, I will not sign the contract and then let you amend it. You will amend it, then I will sign it. As I have often said to the young boy this week (who I am attempting to retrain after 11 days of being spoilt rotten by his grandparents), 'less panting, more success'. Panting here being that 'ugh, ugh, ugh' noise to go with pointing at things you want mommy to do but you can perfectly well do yourself. Just a thought, but perhaps that would get me further down the road with the lawyer...

A year since...

2011-08-24T10:02:00.000+01:00

I think it is a year since the small boy was baptised in Durham. It was certainly about a year ago. And a card arrived 2 days ago from his godmother marked as for today. So that seems like a clue. Amazing how much stuff I haven't managed to do since then. Like post the photos that were taken a week later to his godparents. Or persuade the munchkin to progress beyond 7+ month food in terms of texture. Or clean the oven. Or, well, lots of things.

Royal Historic Palaces Online

2011-08-04T09:53:00.002+01:00

Historic Royal Palaces (HRP) have a series of mini videos online to tempt you to come see their wares: here is one of the latest on Grinling Gibbons. Enjoy.

Cool medieval website

2011-08-03T09:34:00.004+01:00

Ok, so I've been meaning to blog for ages about various things, but just have to do so quickly to share the Gough map with you. Haven't given it much of a once over myself yet, but it looks really cool. And its medieval. What more could you want?

We learn what is important to us (2)

2011-07-13T08:47:00.005+01:00

'Keys' and 'door' weren't our actual first words, however. The first was 'dog' (with major emphasis on the second syllable). This was accompanied by the sign for dog, which helped me understand the word, although, to my shame, it took me ages to work out that he was doing the sign (dog panting). I thought he was hyperventilating with excitement at the thought. This marked the beginning of the 'Woody and Gemma' stalking phase - when we spent as much time as politely possible staring through a neighbour's window at their dogs. ('Dog', minus the sign, was a major word this past weekend when we visited Nanny and her new puppy).

The boy's second most popular sign is 'done', as in, 'I'm done' or 'I've had enough' (to be used at mealtimes). The little monkey, however, uses it at the start of a meal when he doesn't want whatever is on offer/just wants to play. Not that stops him hammering the message home by flinging food to the four quarters. Hopefully this behaviour is going to improve....

Other signs we have seen: 'bath, bird, duck, horse' (quite popular), 'cat', 'mouse', 'flower', 'rain', 'eat'.

The weekend at Nanny's heralded a few new words: 'hello', 'yellow' and 'stuck' (as in, 'hmm, this stair gate keeping me away from the dog is stuck'; 'the door to the dog's cage is stuck', 'this cupboard Daddy is leaning against so I can't get in it is stuck'). I think you get the idea.

History girl lesson no.1

2011-07-06T21:57:00.004+01:00

(which actually occurred last Friday during an unbelievably frustrating day at The National Archives, Kew)

What I knew before I started poking around on census websites: that my grandfather, John Hartland, had been born in 1900 or 1901. And the names of a few of his siblings. And, of course, the area in which the family lived.

What did a couple of hours poking around and a few £ spent gain me: a .pdf of the census return filled in for my great-grandfather, surprise, surprise another John Hartland in 1911. This was not the most efficient piece of research ever, it has to be said, and to rectify this, history girl will be attending a talk on using one of these websitey-dooburry genealogy things at the local library in a couple of weeks. She has limited time, and she is a rank amateur.

The census return did nothing to dispel her sense of guilt at being lower-middle, rather than working, class (a feeling she has always had - although her father worked hard to make that the case, giving due credit to the 1944 Butler Education Act and subsequent legislation as well, of course).

The contrast between great-grandfather and great-granddaughter seems stark. Both live in rented accommodation, granted. But history girl has more than one bedroom for her family of three. Whereas the 1911 Hartland forbears had 8 or 9 in the one bedroom (the uncertainty stems from the death of one of the children and when it occurred). Great-grandfather was a labourer (presumably preferable to the 'Night soil man' he was recorded as in 1901), rather than a wannabe academic. History girl claims to be generally able to spell (the curse of spell check notwithstanding); whereas great-grandfather misspelt his name, and clearly was unaccustomed to writing.

History girl goes back to school

2011-07-06T14:00:00.004+01:00

I have spent many, many hours (willingly) listening to my Dad talking about his childhood, but it wasn't until more recently that I realised that he knew very little about his (and therefore my) family history. We're not talking ancestors of way back when here. The question marks start with the year his father was born. So, history girl, aka yours truly, moi, me myself, has decided to try and do some research, a little journey I plan to share with you. Not that I have a clue where to start. Modern history, what's that?!

We learn what is important to us

2011-07-04T09:34:00.003+01:00

The boy's most recent words are 'door' and 'keys' which rather neatly sum up what he generally wants: to go outside. Door is not said once, but in an unending chant, as this morning. Although the allure of the front door was much diminished once it was clear that stepping through that portal was but a step closer to nursery.

Nothing fancy about it

2011-06-12T21:55:00.003+01:00

When did it become the thing to buy, rather than make, your child's fancy dress costume? The boy and I went to a 'do' today to raise funds for the local maternity hospital, and the fancy dress parade sported only one homemade costume (and thus to my mind only one contender for a prize) - a rather fetching Dalmation puppy, otherwise known as Leo. The judges were not of like minds. What would they have made of the line up of rag-tag costumes sported by myself and my class mates at an infant school fancy dress in honour of the Queen's Silver Jubilee in 1977? Presumably not much. Bah, bah, humbug.

The road to unfitness...

2011-04-12T14:35:00.002+01:00

...is paved with unused gym and swimming pool contracts, and unfulfilled events.

2011 so far

2011-02-16T14:24:00.002Z

Birthdays, another day to lie to oneself about turning over new leaves, like the start of the academic year, the beginning of Advent, New Year's Day, the beginning of Lent.

To sum up the end of my thirty-eighth year:

We read:

A Wedding in December
Gentlemen and Players
Sleeping Arrangements
Twenty-one locks

And are reading:

Eat, Pray, Love

I signed up for the Marie Curie Swimathon, but have sadly hardly managed to get to the swimming pool so may not turn up.

I had the most disastrous of disastrous interviews (following a truly awful presentation) a week ago today.

There have been the occasional instances of more than five hours consecutive hours of sleep.

The boy has refused to eat many delightful things cooked for him by his mother - although he did finally condescend to eat some of a chicken and apple ball the other week (these took an inordinate amount of time to produce).

I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. The current favourite is Nursery Nurse. Possibly just because I am jealous that I pay people to look after my son whilst I sit at home in front of a stoopid compooter-pooter. But possibly not.

I'd better hurry up and be thirty-something

2011-02-15T23:10:00.002Z

I'm not really sure what being thirty-something entails, but I'd best find out quick as tomorrow marks the beginning of my last year of that status. It sounds quite indecisive, so the fact that I'm still riddled with all the neuroses (and more) that I had when I was sixteen, is probably OK. But forty sounds terribly grown up. Perhaps an amazing transformation will take place this year, and I'll no longer find myself floundering in between being a child and an adult; then again, pigs may fly (we have one downstairs that actually does).

Books we have read

2010-12-29T21:26:00.005Z

The 'we' in this title refers to myself and the young Master, as we have spent a disproportionate amount of the past year cuddled up and reading - or at least one of us cuddled up, and the other reading, often in an attempt to stay awake whilst the other slept. Subsequently, I can't at all remember all the books we have read, but they have included:

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society
The Enchanted
Anansi Boys
American Gods
The Ice Cream Girls
Cashelmara
The White Queen
The Queen of New Beginnings
A Stranger in the Family
Never Let Me Go

Some of these I can 'remember' as they are currently forming part of the trip hazard at the top of the stairs. Some because I read them early on. But most I have forgotten.

Presumably yummy mummies...

2010-12-29T21:07:00.003Z

(silly phrase)...cook yummy things.

I have been attempting to tempt my young Master into eating different foods over the past few days. So far, however, we have refused vegetable lasagne, parsnip and sweet potato crisps and cheese and tomato tortilla pizza. We have accepted apple and pears in custard (but not the raisins) and orange jelly. The refusals are enough to make a tired mommy weep and turn to chocolate, but surely she will rise like on wings like an eagle and find the inner fortitude to plough on and keep trying. Well, tomorrow maybe.

Long time no blog, long time no sleep

2010-12-17T12:39:00.005Z

It's been a while. Apparently it is Christmas in a little over a week's time. It is also the boy's first birthday in a little while longer than that. Somehow, somewhere (this is sounding rapidly like an excerpt from West Side Story), I have lost three months. The boy has started nursery and suffered endless days off nursery with various lurgies. Less than three months ago he couldn't sit up without falling over, now he is speed crawling (the last two days). But, I digress. I really post to share with you a link to Magna Carta, and the Henry III Fine Rolls blog. Lovely.

Things to do in Ely when you're wee....

2010-09-15T13:29:00.003+01:00

...(being the purported reporting of an almost 9 month old)

When you're very little you still know that the best things in life are, indeed, free. And these include the best things to do, such as, watch the rubbish and recycling trucks, watch the effect of the breeze on trees, play with your shadow, and make friends with the little person in every reflective surface.

But, since the school-term started up again, we've found a few other things to do. You can go to a variety of play-groups. We went to the Under 1s group at the Olive Tree. It wasn't great for Mommy since, obviously, its hard to plunge into a group who have been bonding together for the past nine months. But since we mainly went to reintroduce Carl to the concept of other children, it was ok.

We've also been to Rhyme Time at Ely library. As the first session after the long break, it was full to oversubscribed, but again good for reintroducing C to babies. I suppose I had thought it would be more singing, having attended Baby Music back in Milton, but it was more speaking the rhymes, often only once through, which I thought was silly as kids love repetition. Nevertheless it's free and, we hope, continuing, forthcoming Cambridgeshire county library cuts notwithstanding.

The only other baby centric activity we've done in Ely so far is swimming. C has had two lessons now - once with Daddy and once with Mommy. The pool isn't great (quite cold at 29C), and the changing facilities for babies are awful, but he enjoys it, so that's that. The swimming will continue when he goes to nursery (very, very soon).

What will Ely Beth be?

2010-08-07T17:41:00.006+01:00

Apart, that is, from spherical. Just back from a trip to the Ely swimming pool (still intending, at some point, to do a blog on swimming pools). I begin to see why government health advice isn't "live off take-aways and junk food and do occasional exercise every week or so if you really feel like it". Durham Beth was, by turns, hockey, rowing, netball, running and swimming girl. Wellingborough Beth was hockey and swimming lady. Cambridge Beth was swimming and rowing woman (until the arrival of a certain small person anyway). So let's hope Ely Beth makes a habit of something, and has the chance to make a habit of something other than chocolate, whilst there's still a vestigal amount of fitness in a corner somewhere.

Things to do in Ely when you're wee...

2010-07-29T12:35:00.002+01:00

...(being the purported musings of a 7 month old)....

So, we've moved. Apparently. There's still piles of boxes everywhere so it kinda looks like home. Old home, that is. I think Mom misses old home. She's wondering what to do with me, and herself, in a new place when the school holidays have just started and all the activity things have closed down for a month and more. I think she's going to try and import people to visit. Want to come? It's in my best interests to try and keep her somewhere towards sane...

I may be about to do something really stupid...

2010-07-02T16:20:00.006+01:00

...yes, that's right, I may actually be going to turn up to the Race For Life in Cambridge on Sunday. It seemed so obvious a move to make myself take some exercise to sign up for this event three months ago. However, I can count on two hands the number of walk/jog type activities I have engaged in since then, and only one of those in the past month. Just thinking about it sends me scurrying to the kitchen to "carb-load". I'm no longer wondering if I will beat my slowest time to date, and instead wondering if I'm going to make it around the course. Frankly I wouldn't be turning up but another recent mother is planning to use me as her excuse for not being able to jog it all, so it would hardly be sporting not to, even though she has been training and I'm much more likely to be a ball and chain around her heels. So, for my fourth attempt, with basically no training, I wonder how I'll do. The track record so far is:

1999 somewhere oop north, viz. Newcastle: with Rach and we did train, but by gosh it was awful, can't remember how long it took, at least 35 minutes, possibly 45. It was a flat race and a hot day. And then we thought we'd go on to do the Great North Run. Oh my.

2003 somewhere else oop north, viz. Gateshead: another hot day, this time on a hilly course, and it took 22 minutes. And the training had been immense as I was fully engaged in a schedule with the future hubby to get us around the Great North Run.

2008 Cambridge: no running training occurred but plenty of rowing and swimming, a flat course and a fairly remarkable 21-22 minutes.

2010 Cambridge: life as a pillow with ready access to caffeined sugary confections hasn't been too kind, so we can only wait and see. If I don't blog again for two months, send someone to Jesus Green to see if I'm ok. Don't worry too much though, I've learnt my lesson about the Great North Run.

A (bank holiday) day in the life of...

2010-05-31T17:44:00.005+01:00

1. Get up again (obviously you have already been up to feed the small child)
2. Get self and 2 boys organised for swimming pool and out the door
3. Have stressed parent type conversations on way to bus stop
4. Get to pool and hunt for/fight for your right to use a family changing room
5. With the baby look longing at the real swimming pool, whilst splashing ineffectively in the more babyish pool
6. Do the return fight back home
7. Start to make the lunch you planned to take as a gift to a very new mother tomorrow, but realise you have neither appropriate cookware nor recipe
8. Buy cookware but plough on without recipe
9. Admit there may be a place for recipes, and hope that your friend does not primarily eat with her eyes, nor, come to that, her tastebuds
10. Get nearer to washing off the horrid chlorine that is still all over your skin (don't worry, the baby got a bath as soon as we got home, I'm not that cruel).

To sum up May so far....

2010-05-23T21:39:00.003+01:00

C is desperate to crawl but can't.
I'm pretty desperate not to go back to work, but its looming, and I have to spend the next week in the library.
We pretty desperately need to move house, but haven't yet (this is one reason its good that C doesn't yet know how to crawl).

Democratic duty

2010-04-30T16:53:00.004+01:00

So I managed to watch the last two-thirds of the final television debate between the leaders of the main political parties last night. I'm in danger of thinking my democratic duty is now done. Certainly the effort required to watch it compares with that expended on photocopying, and everyone knows photocopying something is the same as having read it.

There's an app for that...

2010-04-23T21:47:00.000+01:00

Ok, this isn't via an I-phone, but clearly the internet has an answer for everything. Don't know who to vote for? Go to Votematch, a website that claims to match your views with those of the political parties. Don't like the answer it gives you? Go with your guts.

Election fever

2010-04-20T09:43:00.003+01:00

I haven't actually noticed any election fever, not since 1997, anyway. That's the last time I got a sense people thought they could change things through the ballot box. The most strident politic comment I've come across locally was posted outside my local last week, viz:

Not that I really know what that was specifically about either.

March, April, May

2010-04-11T18:39:00.003+01:00

So I thought I'd better write something before April slips past me, as well as January, February and March. There was definitely going to be another blog in March about cake, the meaning of the phrase 'slap-up' (which my husband understood differently from me, as it transpired) and other things, but then I ended up spending six days with the boy (little one) in hospital, and I'm still trying to recover. In the meantime the season of Spring marches apace. I first noticed that the buds were out by pointing them out to He Who Must Be Obeyed. Now there are leaves and flowers aplenty. Moreover, the May's out, so its time to consider putting coats aside.

Competitive parenting and crisps

2010-03-03T14:18:00.003Z

OK. These two don't necessarily go together, although in the competitive drive to lose weight in the postpartum world, many new mothers would refrain from crisps, I'm sure. I merely mention them because I was wondering yesterday if I could consider them health food as the packet mentioned, presumably as a warning, 'May contain celery'.

So, onto the parenting. I can't help noticing how, as a mother, many comments about your baby are judgment-laden. The ladies from my NCT (National Childbirth Trust) ante-natal group are generally good about this, with the exception of one who, for weeks and weeks, has been commenting on the boy still being in his pyjamas (babygrows). So I'd like to state, for the record, that it is not because I think my son ought to be dressed up like a little man that he has "proper clothes" on today. It's certainly not to aid the nappy changes. Rather its because I've just realised that the clothes he got for Christmas from his aunt, which I was blithely thinking still way too large, are just about right today (and hopefully for a few days more). To serve me right for dressing him up in order to send a photo to said aunt, he decorated said clothes with the ultimate baby accessory. Good for him.

First day of spring?

2010-03-01T20:50:00.004Z

Today the weather was glorious: sunny, with a blue, blue sky. You could believe spring might be on its way, and indeed, the snowdrops have been out for weeks. Its the kind of weather that makes me long even more for a garden.

In other news, February seems to have gone the way of January. The boy is growing exponentially and changing constantly. Eating, sleeping, some playing: such is Carl's universe. His mother's is not much different, although there seems to be some baby admin involved. Housework, however, hasn't a chance.

Home alone

2010-02-01T14:39:00.004Z

January seems to have come and gone. I guess that is what happens when there is a baby in the house (or, rather, flat). This is my first day home alone with said baby who is 5 weeks old today, his Dad having gone out to do some temping. What exciting things could we possibly have got up to? Mainly sleeping (the baby anyway).

Christmas around the world

2009-12-25T14:45:00.002Z

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...

2009-12-21T21:49:00.001Z

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

Theory and practice

2009-12-17T09:38:00.003Z

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

2009-12-15T07:43:00.004Z

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

2009-12-14T18:17:00.004Z

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!

2009-12-01T10:55:00.003Z

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

2009-11-29T14:59:00.003Z

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

Ann Summers: Have a Horny Christmas
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)

2009-11-21T14:56:00.005Z

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

2009-11-11T22:01:00.004Z

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)

2009-11-11T14:26:00.002Z

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)

2009-11-08T16:41:00.003Z

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

2009-10-28T22:36:00.009Z

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...

2009-10-28T22:11:00.006Z

...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

2009-10-15T08:04:00.003+01:00

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)

2009-10-06T10:02:00.002+01:00

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

2009-09-28T18:38:00.002+01:00

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)

2009-09-27T17:23:00.003+01:00

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

2009-09-20T20:35:00.007+01:00

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)

2009-09-06T19:02:00.003+01:00

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)

2009-08-20T12:28:00.010+01:00

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)

2009-08-11T07:40:00.005+01:00

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)

2009-08-03T21:25:00.009+01:00

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

2009-07-31T10:00:00.004+01:00

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?

2009-07-30T15:27:00.002+01:00

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

2009-07-29T10:53:00.005+01:00

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...

2009-07-16T19:53:00.003+01:00

...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

2009-07-11T20:34:00.011+01:00

Over the past month contributions to redeeming weekends have included:

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

catching a summer cold from one's godson

sunburning oneself to within an inch of flayed whilst coxing

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.

Noooo, not again

2009-07-08T17:12:00.002+01:00

Just trying to drum up some enthusiasm for my next coxing session, having coxed 3 out of the last 4 days, and having another 3 sessions this week after tonight. The crew will have to settle for me getting there; I'm forced to settle for their rowing, and that's worse.

Then there were three...

2009-06-29T09:11:00.003+01:00

Yes, I'm on with the cygnets again. And there are definitely only three now, although no further reports of something amiss having occurred. My concern is now double-edged as I find I shall be coxing an eight during the Town Bumps, which means lots of trying not to hit said birds. I'm thinking of petitioning for a 'Go Slow' zone in the middle of the race, wherever the swans happen to be.

Poor Mr. Asbo once more

2009-06-17T08:01:00.005+01:00

Unable to prise the camera out of husband's grip the weekend I wanted to take pictures of our local celebrity, I'm reduced to directing you to the news stories that follow.

I was glad to see that during the chaos that is University Bumps measures had been taken to protect the swans and cygnets, all the more so as I had by then been told (?reliably) that Mr. Asbo had lost all his young in 2008 during this event. Sadly between Bumps ending on the Saturday evening, and the swans again being protected on the Monday evening when a race was being held, one of the cygnets was killed.

If I read again that the swan is interrupting people's training, I'm going to suggest they go for a swim and see how they like oars whacking them. Grrr.

Speaking too soon...

2009-05-30T21:10:00.005+01:00

A pleasant Friday evening pootle on the river, was made all the more pleasant by the realisation that Mr. Asbo the swan wasn't patrolling his patch, but was chiling on the bank whilst Mrs. Asbo herded her five little cyngets along. Buoyed by this, I reassured the cox the next morning that there would be no more trouble from said swan. What I hadn't taken into account was that on the Friday evening there were virtually no boats on the river, but by the time we approached his domain yesterday morning he had been riled by eights ploughing up and down for several hours. He was, in consequence, in fine wing-flapping, flying at and even landing on the boat style. I don't know what the swan male hormone is, but I think he has it in droves. Indeed, this morning his attack was more sustained, as we got nearer the young in question. Fair enough, really. Hopefully photos to follow.

Those migrating song birds

2009-05-26T14:17:00.003+01:00

According to a Radio 4 programme today, the numbers of song birds migrating from Africa to the UK for the summer are substantially down amongst certain species including the cuckoo. Having been brought in up the suburbs I can't say I ever regularly heard a cuckoo, if I did at all. But I have heard two this spring. Once when we were down in Sussex, and once this past weekend, claiming territory over this particular piece of fenland:

Things I am not fed up of (5)

2009-05-12T07:48:00.002+01:00

Views. Here's one looking out from Orrest Head (Windermere) towards much higher things.

Things I am not fed up of (4)

2009-04-30T09:48:00.003+01:00

Endearments. But does 'non-resident alien spouse', as I have mainly been referred to over the past few days, really count? Thank you IRS.

Apparently it really is sunny...

2009-04-21T08:22:00.009+01:00

in the south. That is in the south of England, where the boy and I spent the long weekend. 'The South' in England is a somewhat elastic concept. For those who wish to be considered from 'The North' as diametrically opposed to 'The South', the said South begins anywhere below the particular latitude of their hometown. However, visiting East Sussex we were definitely in 'the South', as confirmed by local pub-goers who seemed to regard anything north of the Thames as the wild North. Eejits.

We were visiting a friend who works and lives at Herstmonceux castle, and it was a weekend of much eating out and visiting sites of historical interest, don't you know. The only downside was that we ate as if we were teenagers on a growth-spurt and moved as if we were shuffling off to live in Bexhill-on-Sea. That aside, it was a great weekend, where we:

1. Spent some time in the British Museum 'doing' the Assyrian galleries, Africa and some of Roman Britain (before we got turfed out). I found the lion hunt displays a bit relentless in the Assyrian galleries. In the African gallery I'd recommend the 'Tree of Life'.

2. Splashed out on National Trust membership for a year and put it to good use by visiting Bateman's (Rudyard Kipling's house) and Bodiam castle. The latter is so liberally provisioned with fireplaces its primary use must have been as grand manor house rather than for defence of the south coast, whatever the introductory video might say. Watch this if you ever go though, if only for the shot of a knight apparently making his fortune in the Hundred Years War by riding down a fleeing peasant.

3. Visited Lewes, scene of the Montfortian victory over Henry III in 1264, which was unfortunately mostly shut. The castle was having its walkway renovated, and the priory remains, although some attempt had clearly been made in the past to open them up and turn a penny from them (there were faded information boards and instructions that you could obtain leaflets from the ticket office), were shut away behind a fence topped with barbed wire. This seemed a shame, but apparently money is on its way to open the site up. All in all we appear to have visited Lewes too soon. In compensation we went to 'Anne of Cleeves' House'. A triumph of marketing over content because although given to Anne of Cleeves by Henry VIII she never went there. So, unless you want to see a local history of Lewes museum, you may not want to part with your gold. One display did catch my eye though: a series of firebacks made from local pig-iron. My question to you is, who would want a fireback of Protestant martyrs being burned at the stake? But this is a town with a fierce Bonfire night tradition (indeed, bonfire societies) with flaming crosses and (until recently) burning effigies of Pope Pius IV. This, I suppose, is what happens when your town suffers Marian persecution under Queen Mary.

4. Obviously looked around Herstmonceux castle and its grounds, including an embryonic archaeological dig, examining a purported moated manor house.

5. Shuffled along the sea-front at Eastbourne and its pier. Having never been on the 'traditional' English sea-side holiday I'd rather anticipated that all such resorts had tat shops selling 'Kiss Me Quick' hats and the other assorted junk a-plenty, but apparently Eastbourne is a little more classy than that.

6. Made it to the heart of '1066 Country' with a trip to Battle. English Heritage haven't done too bad a job here - your entrance fee buys you admittance to the battlefield and the remains of the abbey. It's not necessary to watch the video as you will hear the text again on your audio-guide. I found it a little hard to envisage the battle as you go around with your audio-guide as, of course, the terrain has changed and you don't get a full appreciation of the incline of the hill as the abbey buildings cut this off. (Tradition says that William had the altar of the 11th century church placed on the spot where Harold was killed, and this is some way up the abbey complex).

Bank holiday fun: duty, dancing and a swan named Asbo

2009-04-13T08:37:00.011+01:00

The boy elected to work Good Friday and Bank Holiday Monday this year, leaving me to twiddle my thumbs somewhat on those days. This led to the production of a 'traditional' Easter cheesecake on Good Friday. (Really it's a birthday cake but we won't be chez nous for the boy's birthday.)

Saturday involved a limited amount of rowing. Limited because the boat house door has been broken for some time now meaning certain boats can't be got out safely (grrrr). This did give me another opportunity to watch 'Mr Asbo' in action. The so-called 'Mr Asbo' is a male swan who has been terrorising rowers on the Cam for some weeks now. He's quite a spectacle, when viewed from a safe distance. It's cruel, but the stroke of my four has been known to do the theme tune to "Jaws" when moving through his self-proclaimed zone of the river just to freak the cox out that little bit more. The real exercise of the weekend was a walk. Doesn't sound hard, but when you cycle everywhere, walking suddenly becomes a bit of an issue. More so when you've booked to go to the Lake District for a week and your wife expects to be taken hiking. So the boy went for a bit of a drag on Saturday afternoon, and is booked for another one in a fortnight's time. (Hopefully we will both have recovered by then).

Easter celebrations at church were, in my view, cool; at least for the 'Presentation of the Gifts' section when Indian members of the congregation performed a West Syriac rite, involving lights and dancing. I thought it was just a touch Bollywood, but of course I got in trouble for saying so. The slight, ever so slight, Bollywood theme continued in the afternoon when I took the boy to see Slumdog Millionaire. My boss had told me it was sad because of the poverty and that was the overall message I took from the film, whatever the critics have said. The boy, who had been planned to endure the film, admitted to having enjoyed it.

Easter Monday saw my first sculling outing of 2009. I managed not to send my partner for a swim and, of course, stayed well clear of Mr. Asbo, so all was well on that front. The sculling season may commence.

Passiontide and bankers

2009-04-06T09:33:00.004+01:00

Sometimes the lines from hymns strike you. This is more usually the case with older hymns (hymns versus choruses), written to teach you your theology. So from Palm Sunday I am stuck with

'Ride on, ride on in majesty
In lowly pomp ride on to die'

The second line isn't taking any prisoners. I'm not sure what the local church was using in place of palms. It seemed to be whatever greenery the parisoners could offer up. A good idea, but the boy was in fits of hay-fever induced sneezing throughout the service.

A laid-off banker turned up to stay in the evening. It's not so bad as she has severance pay, and is already pursuing those new jobs with a determination that I've never quite mustered. And, being laid off, she didn't need to engage in defence of the 'morality' of her post.

Weekends away

2009-03-31T21:18:00.008+01:00

Weekends away should involve as many historic sites as possible, even when the real reason for the jaunt is to catch up with friends and, sadly, attend some meetings. We did manage a few minutes (scarcely more) in my favourite building in the world, aka Durham cathedral. It spoils you for all other cathedrals, trust me. Tynemouth priory was also on our list, but in the end we looked at it from across the street, under some awning, watching the flag-pole wave worringly in time with the lamp-posts on what was a particularly gusty Saturday. A new-to-us site also made it briefly into our weekend: Fountains Abbey. We liked this. The boy has a date to take me for a weekend to Ripon at some point in the rest of our lives so we can "do" this properly, and Ripon cathedral too. In addition, in keeping with the season of Lent, we attended a showing of Into Great Silence, discussed here.

Days out, grand and otherwise

2009-03-20T21:44:00.008Z

Last Friday the boy and I skipped off work for the day and had a "Grand Day Out". This comprised:

getting up a bit later than usual
going to the Tower of London
eating copious amounts of apple crumble and custard at St. Martin's
watching Avenue Q

Sounds grand, but I felt a bit otherwise about the Tower. I'd been there once before (scarily over twenty years before) on a truly grand day trip from Birmingham to London with my sister. That day had been glorious sunshine, and we had caught the boat up the Thames and arrived at the Tower by that means, if not literally through 'Traitor's Gate'. It was probably about the time that the film Lady Jane came out, so the historical romance of the place would have been pumping through the youthful veins. The highlight then, indeed, was locating the graffiti 'Jane' in one of the Towers. I remember this, the sunshine, and the fact that we decided we weren't going to pay to go and see the Crown Jewels. Last week wasn't so exciting. I blame various things. For one, it has been very much done over for tourists in the intervening 23 years, and I don't make a good tourist at historical sites. For two, there wasn't much medieval going on, and these days that's more 'my bag' - a downside of specialization. On the plus side, the boy enjoyed it, and it was his day out.

Lose yourself in history

2009-03-12T09:37:00.009Z

Amongst the piles of pap that I have skimmed for light relief in the past year, I do read the occasional good novel. Those based in historical events this year have included:

Under A Blood Rey Sky by Kate Furnivall - a book I have lost the last few days to, and consequenly top of my list. Set in the Russia of Five Year Plans and labour camps this book has it all. Here is another blogger talking about it.
Half of a Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche - which I found grimly educational.
The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsover - some more African history.
And, an old classic, Little Dorrit by Charles Dickens - as if you need me to tell you that.

Queens, queens and more queens

2009-03-02T12:18:00.004Z

No, not a discussion of any particular gender topic. This is medieval history. Traditionally written by men, it doesn't do gender really, even if there is now literature out there on queering the Vikings. Instead, today we discussed real queens from AElfthryth to Anne of Bohemia. I myself, whilst far from a copy of the Queen of Heaven, am an intercessory centre. 'Can I have an extension?' The student approaches the friendly face. The friendly face refers to the inner grumpy core. The inner grumpy core mutters and splutters and the friendly face smiles munificence. Nothing queenly for you artefact wise, but queens must have had treasure so you could look at this website instead.

Road-kill potatoes and other stories from the Midlands

2009-02-22T17:35:00.004Z

I like hearing stories of the old days, as well as stories of the current days, when I get together with my family. Last weekend was good on both fronts. Most laughs (at my father's expense) went to his much drawn-out tale of the roadkill potatoes that he rescued, and that my mother was very grudgingly conceding to eat, but only as chips (fries). Most revealing was the fact that my mother had actually played squash with my father in their pre-marriage (according to him) or early-marriage (according to her) days. My mother, playing a sport (even if only twice)? This does not compute. Young love my husband concluded. I'm inclined to agree. The husband after all did undergo an afternoon of being taught how to swim properly in the early days of courtship which I now realise he must have hated. What the social services would have made of my mother's childhood game of borrowing neighbour's children to take for walks when she was bored of playing with the dolls, I can't imagine. Apparently the next-door neighbour in question wasn't too pleased to find her baby abandoned in the front garden, forgotten by my mother and her friend. But should she really have been lending her out? My sister-in-law took notes for future childcare options. The final image I'll leave you with is my mother and her friend, off school with chickenpox, walking the street calling 'Unclean! Unclean!' This being the 1940s Britain, I think the bells were probably imaginary.

Things to do when you're bored (2)

2009-02-16T12:29:00.004Z

Tell people some of the things you had for your birthday, such as

a pair of red shoes from Hotter
a fruit cake steeped in tea from Betty's
a book on wild swimming

Think you know more about me now?

Things to do when you're bored (1)

2009-02-16T12:26:00.002Z

Read Domesday Book. Well, perhaps less 'read', more 'skim'. I was disappointed to learn today that nowhere really really close to my particular part of the urban jungle that is the greater West Midlands connurbation was included. On the other hand the village I currently reside in in Cambridge is.

A stitch in time would have saved nine

2009-02-05T14:27:00.005Z

I found myself with three pairs of gloves in my pockets at the shops today. All have holes. All of which I'd made a mental note to stitch up some while ago when they were the start of holes. Looks like a job for when there's something on TV. Another well-worn phrase much in my mind today is the one about getting back on the horse when you fall off it. In this case exchange a bicycle for the horse. It's quite annoying that we were snowed in again today - it has caused a delay in my getting back on my bike after being knocked off it yesterday. I chose to walk to the shops rather than get on my newly fixed bike. Hmm, I'm not keen on getting back in that traffic, I thought. Bother, I hate that. I think it'll be a few weeks of taking the river path (which I love, but which is longer) before I get back into the fray. It reminds me of when I got a hockey ball (grass hockey) right in my eye. After that I found myself strangely conscious of how high girls really swung those sticks. Mind, I got some serious kudos from rugby types for my face of brown, purple, green and yellow. A real picture. Shame I was trying to sell graduating students photographs at the time.

Don't travel unless you have to

2009-02-02T09:51:00.006Z

This is the universal message to the southern UK today. My husband told me it applied to me, as he would have a heart attack wondering if I made it back from work in London, even if I had made it in. Yes, the country is paralyzed by 6-10 inches of snow. And, I have to admit it, I'm embarrassed given the snow conditions we were travelling considerable distances in over Christmas in the US. But, seeing a ray of hope, perhaps the US trains are as badly affected by snow as in the UK? But that would not be a rescue from embarrassment. The county will be rightly full of Poles saying "You call this weather?!" I dread to think what will happen if the Gulf Stream does get diverted, although the husband has said we'll have moved to near Mile High Stadium by then. In the meantime I have requested a moratorium on cracks about the inability of the UK to deal with weather. As these had already began before 7am I don't hold my breath, but the husband did promise to try...

Things I am not fed up of (3)

2009-01-26T12:13:00.004Z

Turning my mattress. It's a real beauty from the pocket spring bed company, and you should keep turning it to prevent it from settling. I feel guilty when I haven't got around to turning it often enough (it cost so much when funds were scarce that I feel the obligation to prolong its life as much as possible very strongly). But if turning the mattress is something of a duty, then changing the sheets is just fun, because, as you know, it is complusory to flap the new ones around in the air until your arms drop off (or until you think your husband might be tired of this game, whichever comes first).

Um, what's to celebrate?

2009-01-17T22:19:00.011Z

You can right now go out into the blogsphere and find yourself some photos of the light show that was on this evening to celebrate the start of the 800th year of the University of Cambridge. You will find plenty. Because, apparently, it is more important to take photos of things to stick on your blog etc. than to actually experience them in the present moment. I must have been one of the few people who wasn't sticking a camera/mobile phone in front of someone else's face to obscure their view. It was also a shame that you couldn't properly hear the bells being rung from nearby bell towers. (And, yes, I know I'm having a moan, possibly even exaggerating slightly. And the irony isn't lost on me either).

But if you want to see something else worth seeing, without impediment, check out the new exhibition at the FitzWilliam Museum. I particularly liked the twentieth-century manuscript illumination and the Rossetti Annunciation.

What I should be doing right now

2009-01-10T17:17:00.005Z

What I should be doing right now is teaching preparation for Monday, but, to be frank, I so can't be bothered. So, when I've cooked a curry and an apple pie, instead of settling down to lovely reading (a decision I shall undoubtedly rue tomorrow), I'll settle down to the video tape my Dad sent me of the Doctor Who and Wallace and Gromit Christmas specials. In the meantime, as I have left the Anglo-Saxon period behind me for this academic year, it is only fair to introduce you to the source of all my knowledge. Behold, Chi-fric, King of the something or others!, here pontificating on AS Law.

Here after he had hauled in his geld of jelly beans.

Reporting back from three weeks stateside

2009-01-08T13:52:00.020Z

This is most easily done in the form of lists I think. Lets start with what seemed most important: food. The number of meals I declined to count, as they were more than three a day if you include snacks (of which there were many), but, in addition to eating chez les in-laws, we ate at:

the brother in-law's (Christmas Day = 27 people, Boxing Day)

the aunt's (New Year's Day = 13 people); and, in order,

Culver's (on the drive to Wisconsin), where I was culverized

MacDonald's (on the drive back from Wisconsin)

Perkins (which was a little less than mediocre)

Dynasty Buffet (Chinese all you can eat, which I don't particularly care for)

Ruby Tuesdays (my choice, it has a good salad bar)

International House of Pancakes (a breakfast meal following a mass on New Year's Eve)

Lone Star Steak House (to get the boy a steak)

Whilst we mostly stayed at my parents-in-law's condominium, we also visited:

their house in Wisconsin

the brother-in-law's house (or mansion, since, as the boy likes to point out, it has pillars)

the Grandma's house several times

an Aunt's house once

and the duplex of the Grandpa's girlfriend several times

Further we went to a number of church services, and took in three churches, viz:

the first Sunday (although on TV from a chapel in La Crosse, as the roads were too bad to drive in Wisconsin)

Christmas Eve (at St. Vincent's, the usual church for this trip)

the second Sunday

New Year's Eve twice (once a mass said for the repose of the soul of the deceased Grandpa, once for the vigil of the Solemnity of Mary, both at St. Philomena's)

the third Sunday

I learnt two ditties, both the eldest and youngest female members of the clan; respectively:

I'm old and grey and have lost my way, and all my tomorrows are yestersdays (a repeated refrain), and

a, b, c, d, e, 1, 2, 3, Thank you Lord for feeding me (the timing of which should require little explanation)

I also witnessed plenty of weather (as well as plenty of worrying over said weather), including:

an ice storm (which put the kaibosh on a intended jaunt out to eat at Hometown Buffet for the father-in-law's birthday)

plenty of snow (leading to plenty of sledging until I finally impaled myself too painfully on a tree to continue)and cold temperatures (down to -25 C)

and a tornado warning (not that I knew it was a tornado warning at the time, being out by myself and hearing what sounded like air-raid sirens).

And finally, in a list of one, I went to a New Year's Eve dance with the aforesaid Grandpa and girlfriend (aged 88 and 91 respectively) at a Senior Citizens' Centre somewhere in central IL. Undoubtedly the highlight of the trip.