Yes, it actually is October and I have many many weak excuses for not having written anything for ages.
Not that anyone will read this, except maybe Mr Bell, and I don't blame you because I haven't written anything for ages.
Karmically I am being punished for this by listening to a bargain CD I bought last week and it is dreadful.
So, my excuses -
1. I have been very distracted by last minute course writing for the class I am currently teaching. Of course, I have had at least 6 months to write the class, but its much more fun to try to put together a 2 hour long class on a variety of topics that I haven't looked at for years in the preceeding 48 hours.
2. I bought myself an ipod. And? Well, I set it up on the PC and have spent hours loading and accidentally deleting music. Not only did this occupy a good deal of my time, but it also chewed its way through a chunk of the remaining disk space on the PC. The PC then suggested I get rid of a load of unwanted files, and these included the set up page for this blog.
To cut a long story short I can't seem to access this blog from the PC and I do most of my work on the PC. Thus, no blog for a while.
3. It's been cold and wintery and sitting in front of the TV in a warm living room is much preferable to sitting in front of a keyboard in a cold office.
4. I am a lazy git.
5. I've been trying to avoid becoming a baby bore - I will attempt to keep baby news to the basics. Do NOT expect this to continue when I become a full-time parent next year and have nothing else to talk about.
I think that's all the obvious excuses covered.
Jo's Pregnancy Fact File -
- we do know the baby's gender, but are keeping it low key because the dad doesn't want to know
- it's a kicky/punchy/wriggly wee thing
Will try to get better at blogging, honest.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Especially for you, David.
Firstly, WMP is Windows Media Player, ie the little fandangly inbuilt music thingy on Windows. Unfortunately it keeps butchering my CDs when I try to rip them, so not quite the rousing success I claimed.
Secondly, it's nowhere near September. You do exaggerate.
Plus, I have a good (sort of) reason for being absent. Actually that isn't at all true, my true reason for being absent is that I haven't been doing much office work and haven't really been near the computer except to check email once in a while. However, I do have news...
Jo's pregnant.
Beat that if you can!
Adios,
S
Secondly, it's nowhere near September. You do exaggerate.
Plus, I have a good (sort of) reason for being absent. Actually that isn't at all true, my true reason for being absent is that I haven't been doing much office work and haven't really been near the computer except to check email once in a while. However, I do have news...
Jo's pregnant.
Beat that if you can!
Adios,
S
Monday, June 23, 2008
Now here's a shocker.
I am supposed to be working on my evening class (which restarts tomorrow evening with a grand total of 35 attendees), but having massacred my powerpoint presentation I have decided it is time to blog.
Coincidence? I don't think so.
In fact, I appear to mostly blog when I am stuck at my desk and 'working'. FYI I am listening to David Arnold's version of "Live & Let Die" featuring Chrissie Hynde utilising my stupendous scarab design WMP. Procrastinate? Never.
In case you care, the picture above has nothing to do with anything in this post. It was added on a whim.
News, news, news. Not much. Have been mostly dog-walking, working, attemping to hill run (the downhill part is much easier than the uphill), reading alot of trashy books, watching alot of trashy tv, watching the All Blacks slaughter England, trying to sell old car, getting used to driving new car, trying to avoid driving altogether due to price of petrol and finally getting around to watching films I should have watched ages ago. Namely, "Sweeney Todd" and "No Country For Old Men", both of which I thoroughly enjoyed (Anton Sigur is my new hero, you gotta love a man with standards).
So, that's that.
Just thought I'd let you know.
S
Friday, May 16, 2008
Shirley Knott (don't call me Shirley)
Yep, it's me.
What news?
1. The drugs are working, though getting up at 6.30am to get to work for 7am is killing me.
2. Winter is kicking in.
3. I still haven't figured out my PhD question, though still planning on doing PhD.
4. Have bought a new secondhand car - a 'compact SUV', so now we are those people.
5. I am wrestling hugely with my middle class guilt/principles over buying aforementioned car (even though it was my idea).
6. Have finished teaching my evening class and LOVED IT. Have been asked to repeat the class and set up a new one for August (hooray for me).
7. Jo is lovely.
8. So's Gert.
9. The Hurricanes are doing quite well this year.
For anyone who may be interested in clarification about what "the drugs are working" means, all I can say is that when I was walking the dog the other day I sang a new and improved variation of "Little Donkey" to her whilst laughing to myself like a simpleton. And then I told Jo and did a repeat performance (Jo joined in, which may explain why we are married). The dog thought it was shit and ignored me.
Speaking of great songs, I strongly urge you to go to Youtube and check out "Batfly" by Fat Cat & Fish Face. I was also singing this during my dog walking antics.
Why do I tell people this stuff? Must be the tablets...
What news?
1. The drugs are working, though getting up at 6.30am to get to work for 7am is killing me.
2. Winter is kicking in.
3. I still haven't figured out my PhD question, though still planning on doing PhD.
4. Have bought a new secondhand car - a 'compact SUV', so now we are those people.
5. I am wrestling hugely with my middle class guilt/principles over buying aforementioned car (even though it was my idea).
6. Have finished teaching my evening class and LOVED IT. Have been asked to repeat the class and set up a new one for August (hooray for me).
7. Jo is lovely.
8. So's Gert.
9. The Hurricanes are doing quite well this year.
For anyone who may be interested in clarification about what "the drugs are working" means, all I can say is that when I was walking the dog the other day I sang a new and improved variation of "Little Donkey" to her whilst laughing to myself like a simpleton. And then I told Jo and did a repeat performance (Jo joined in, which may explain why we are married). The dog thought it was shit and ignored me.
Speaking of great songs, I strongly urge you to go to Youtube and check out "Batfly" by Fat Cat & Fish Face. I was also singing this during my dog walking antics.
Why do I tell people this stuff? Must be the tablets...
Monday, March 10, 2008
Dog day care
Just an update.
Have been to see the doctor. He innocuously enough asked how I was at which point I shrugged, muttered "if I was okay I wouldn't be here" and promptly burst into tears. Very cool.
I have drugs and have been sent for blood tests, just to check that it isn't anything else, and about 2 weeks to keep trudging on until the chemicals kick in.
Yee-hah.
Have been to see the doctor. He innocuously enough asked how I was at which point I shrugged, muttered "if I was okay I wouldn't be here" and promptly burst into tears. Very cool.
I have drugs and have been sent for blood tests, just to check that it isn't anything else, and about 2 weeks to keep trudging on until the chemicals kick in.
Yee-hah.
Thursday, March 06, 2008
The Black Dog
Yeah, I know. I haven't been too available recently, but I am sincerely hoping that things will change over the next few weeks.
If I'm honest the reason for this is that I haven't been feeling top notch. Before Christmas I was driving myself crazy trying to get every single pointless fact/piece of trivia about ancient Egypt into my head before the Big Trip, then there was the Big Trip and my return/decompression period, and now there is a week of 12 hour days awaiting me at the NZ Festival of the Arts, rapidly followed by the start of my (hopefully) inaugrual seminar series at the university. Plus, of course, we squeezed in a week in Sydney and I am planning the start of a Ph.D.
Though these acted as a pretty effective diversionary tactic, I've noticed that, after an absence of almost 5 or 6 years, my bastarding depression is back. Thus, the black dog (cool picture, don't you think?).
It's taken me a while to realise that it's not going away of it's own accord. I've been doing all the right things healthwise, but still I am tired all the time, utterly unmotivated, genuinely don't see the purpose of doing anything, my temper is irrational (and foul), and there's those tricky and far too frequent random bursts of crying, amongst its cornucopia of delights. So, tomorrow morning it's off to the doctor with me to get some magic tablets (and maybe someone to talk to).
I will say this only once - I DO NOT WANT ANY SYMPATHY EMAILS/PHONE CALLS. Even if you are a close relative. All they seem to do is make me lose my temper and rant on and on.
I will be fine. I've dealt with this before and I know that's what I need to do, deal with it.
Just wait until I'm back on form and obssessing about Ph.D stuff. Oh how you will suffer.
love
S
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Still tired
But this is simply due to a lack of sleep, and not even for a fun reason.
We spent the weekend up at the beach in a bed that was too small and under a duvet that was too hot. Last night, back in my own bed (neither too small nor too hot), my plans for a decent night's sleep were scuppered by a combination of a really quite impressive thunderstorm and corking period pain. When I got to work at 8.30 I asked (and I thought I asked nicely) if it would be okay if I didn't work on the counter because I feeling a little un-customer friendly. Wrong question. So, instead of working on the counter I got sent home with a flea in my ear.
Here I am now, absent mindedly surfing the net and trying to think of a suitable topic for a PhD.
After 3 weeks of Nile madness - an immensely draining 21 days of being asked everything and nothing, cleverly combined with jet-lag, sleep-deprivation and one of worst colds I have had in years - I have been persuaded than pursuing a PhD would be in my best interests.The only problem with this is that I cannot for the life of me think of a research topic. I would quite happily follow on from my MA dissertation, but I've heard that this is not the done thing, and I don't know how viable my other ideas are.
I shall refrain from further discussion of this subject here; it's going to get self-indulgent and rambling without your assistance or involvement. But I only thought it fair that you should be warned that I am somewhat distracted.
I'm sure you'd rather hear about Egypt.
1. It was cold. As soon as it got dark in Cairo you could see your own breath. I spent a large amount of my time wearing at least 3 layers of clothing, which was rather distressing for the people travelling with me because it meant I did the "bloke thing" of wearing the same clothes all the time.
2. Eating nothing except well-cooked (not the same as well-prepared) hotel food for 3 weeks results in bloating and constipation. Why don't hotels provide good local food, instead of generic "European" food that tastes like arse and will probably give you food poisoning anyway? Bastards. You will pleased to know that since my return I have eaten a vast array of leafy vegetabales and salad. Constipation is no longer an issue (pun intended).
3. People delude themselves about their fitness/stamina. I think a few of my tour "guests" will think long and hard the next time they consider a 3 week trip to somewhere more exotic than their corner shop. BUT no one died or had to be sent to a hospital (an airport medical clinic does not count as a hospital in my book), and some of them even thanked me for dealing with their vomiting/pooing and getting them a doctor.
4. If you are ever visiting Egypt on a tight budget attach yourself to a large group and identify yourself as "tour leader". This means you find it almost impossible to pay for anything, as the locals seem to give you credit for bringing them business. I wasn't even allowed to pay for a chocolate bar in a service station. The downside is that you have to accept varying degrees of crap "gifts". At first I tried to argue and pay my way, but then I realised resistance was futile and just gave up.
5. Being a "tour leader" means that you are provided with, sometimes graphic, details of the bowel movements of members of the tour group at various times of the day. In Alexandria I had three such conversations before I'd even had a coffee (approximately 7am) - I only had toast that morning.
6. The only way I managed to get any free time was to shut myself in my room and not do anything, which wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I headed to Egypt. However, they did have "Alias" and "Grey's Anatomy" on the hotel TV, so it could have been worse. The Nile Cruise boat showed "Titantic". I didn't watch it.
7. I got asked alot of slightly useless questions (though I guess they weren't without validity) such as "Where is the cartouche reading Sety I?", erm, well there isn't one that says that, but I can point out Menmaatra Sety (meryenptah), does that help and will it mean anything at all when you get home? I sincerely doubt it.
If you were wondering, yes I am going again. Probably next year. What a glutton for punishment.
We spent the weekend up at the beach in a bed that was too small and under a duvet that was too hot. Last night, back in my own bed (neither too small nor too hot), my plans for a decent night's sleep were scuppered by a combination of a really quite impressive thunderstorm and corking period pain. When I got to work at 8.30 I asked (and I thought I asked nicely) if it would be okay if I didn't work on the counter because I feeling a little un-customer friendly. Wrong question. So, instead of working on the counter I got sent home with a flea in my ear.
Here I am now, absent mindedly surfing the net and trying to think of a suitable topic for a PhD.
After 3 weeks of Nile madness - an immensely draining 21 days of being asked everything and nothing, cleverly combined with jet-lag, sleep-deprivation and one of worst colds I have had in years - I have been persuaded than pursuing a PhD would be in my best interests.The only problem with this is that I cannot for the life of me think of a research topic. I would quite happily follow on from my MA dissertation, but I've heard that this is not the done thing, and I don't know how viable my other ideas are.
I shall refrain from further discussion of this subject here; it's going to get self-indulgent and rambling without your assistance or involvement. But I only thought it fair that you should be warned that I am somewhat distracted.
I'm sure you'd rather hear about Egypt.
1. It was cold. As soon as it got dark in Cairo you could see your own breath. I spent a large amount of my time wearing at least 3 layers of clothing, which was rather distressing for the people travelling with me because it meant I did the "bloke thing" of wearing the same clothes all the time.
2. Eating nothing except well-cooked (not the same as well-prepared) hotel food for 3 weeks results in bloating and constipation. Why don't hotels provide good local food, instead of generic "European" food that tastes like arse and will probably give you food poisoning anyway? Bastards. You will pleased to know that since my return I have eaten a vast array of leafy vegetabales and salad. Constipation is no longer an issue (pun intended).
3. People delude themselves about their fitness/stamina. I think a few of my tour "guests" will think long and hard the next time they consider a 3 week trip to somewhere more exotic than their corner shop. BUT no one died or had to be sent to a hospital (an airport medical clinic does not count as a hospital in my book), and some of them even thanked me for dealing with their vomiting/pooing and getting them a doctor.
4. If you are ever visiting Egypt on a tight budget attach yourself to a large group and identify yourself as "tour leader". This means you find it almost impossible to pay for anything, as the locals seem to give you credit for bringing them business. I wasn't even allowed to pay for a chocolate bar in a service station. The downside is that you have to accept varying degrees of crap "gifts". At first I tried to argue and pay my way, but then I realised resistance was futile and just gave up.
5. Being a "tour leader" means that you are provided with, sometimes graphic, details of the bowel movements of members of the tour group at various times of the day. In Alexandria I had three such conversations before I'd even had a coffee (approximately 7am) - I only had toast that morning.
6. The only way I managed to get any free time was to shut myself in my room and not do anything, which wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I headed to Egypt. However, they did have "Alias" and "Grey's Anatomy" on the hotel TV, so it could have been worse. The Nile Cruise boat showed "Titantic". I didn't watch it.
7. I got asked alot of slightly useless questions (though I guess they weren't without validity) such as "Where is the cartouche reading Sety I?", erm, well there isn't one that says that, but I can point out Menmaatra Sety (meryenptah), does that help and will it mean anything at all when you get home? I sincerely doubt it.
If you were wondering, yes I am going again. Probably next year. What a glutton for punishment.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Umanek - the lost pharaoh
This entry will be brief, mainly due to the fact that I am still shattered and recovering from 3 solid weeks of tour leading a group of 41 people from one end of Egypt to the other (see photo).
Amongst the many adventures that I will relate on this page, once I am somewhat returned to normal, are one of the more interesting massages I have experienced and my now extensive knowledge of anti-vomit/diarrhoea drugs and treatments. Aren't you envious?
The journey home consisted of 36 hours without sleep and it is only now, 4 days after my return, that the spaced out feeling and faint taste of toxins appear to have left my body. Plus, I had to endure room cleaning 'antics' that turned my bath towles into this...
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Old stuff; wish me luck!
This time tomorrow I'll be in Auckland waiting for my flight to Brisbane, then waiting for my flight to Singapore, then waiting for my flight to Dubai and, finally, waiting for my flight to Cairo.
Around about 30 hours after leaving Wellington, NZ, I should (fingers crossed) find myself & my tour group in the swanky luxury of the Moevenpick Pyramids Hotel just a short skip & hop from ye olde pyramides of Giza. At which point I plan to head to my room and pass out for a few hours.
I hope that I'll be able to get some decent internet access and if you are lucky I'll be updating from my travels - Cairo, Luxor, Aswan, Alexandria & Sinai - and not just seething quietly.
Arrividerci!
Around about 30 hours after leaving Wellington, NZ, I should (fingers crossed) find myself & my tour group in the swanky luxury of the Moevenpick Pyramids Hotel just a short skip & hop from ye olde pyramides of Giza. At which point I plan to head to my room and pass out for a few hours.
I hope that I'll be able to get some decent internet access and if you are lucky I'll be updating from my travels - Cairo, Luxor, Aswan, Alexandria & Sinai - and not just seething quietly.
Arrividerci!
Sunday, December 23, 2007
A head like mince
And a merry Christmas to you all!
No doubt you are squinting at the photo attached. What you may, or may not, be able to see is the lovely gouge that Gert managed to gain in her bonce on Thursday - not that we know how she did it, but it is not classy. At all. In fact, I think it may be slightly common.
The last couple of weeks have been taken up with a heady concoction of birthdays, cafe work, university work, theatrical trips and avoiding Christmas. I have excelled at the last one beyond even my wildest dreams. In fact, I am writing this now and fretting about how the hell I am going to sort out at least getting some semblance of Christmas gifts to family/friends in the UK/Europe before February. I don't understand quite why this inability to organise myself has manifested; I swear I was fabulous at getting presents and cards all bought & wrapped when I lived in the UK, but now I seem to have lost that part of my brain function altogether (along with the ability to retain any information that doesn't directly relate to me). I need to sort this out and I promise I will try harder.
But enough about that.
The festive season is officially open and Jo & I managed to mark this by a evening of "entertainment" at Wellington's now sole women-only night (Wellington is seemingly incapable of sustaining a gay club/bar). It was in fact the second of these events, organised by some friends of ours, but we missed the first one because Jo fell asleep on the sofa at 9pm and I think I was engrossed in something terribly interesting on the TV. I digress, this time we not only turned up, but were by far the first people there...and "by far" I mean by an hour and a half. This did mean that we didn't have to pay to get in, but it also meant that by the time anyone else showed up we were ready to go home and eat half a box of chocolates (Cadbury's Continental - not very alluring, the creme de menthe one tastes like toothpaste). The late arrival clientele seemed to mostly consist of young people (ie anywhere between 12-24 years old, I can't tell anymore), a fair few of whom were TRASHED and stagger-y, which is strangely unattractive and yet mesmerising. And, my god, the amount of styling products these whippersnappers use makes us 80s survivors seem tame. Jo seemed to confuse and confound a fair few of them by actually looking and dressing like a woman - take that you wee Shane-a-likees! - whereas I, of course, mostly looked faintly unimpressed.
The music, again organised by a friend of ours, started off covering "classics/oldies", which terrifying included both "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and "I want to sex you up" by Color Me Badd (oh, how I wish I had never had to re-live that horror), but I managed to maintain my composure by leaning on the bar and drinking. We also managed to snag bar stools near the pool table so we could admire the youngsters take on the lesbian classic of "pool as way of chatting someone up without actually talking to them". It's surprisingly effective and completely mitigates any requirement for social interaction skills. Nice one ladies.
And now it is nearly Christmas Eve.
Have a very merry Christmas doing whatever makes you happy with whoever makes you happy - see you next week...
Friday, December 07, 2007
Typhoid Mary
I have typhoid.
Only a tiny bit, fresh from the doctor's surgery, but typhoid all the same. In the form of a vaccine. I was going to use that as a really feeble excuse for not having written anything for over a month, but as I only went to the GP this morning, even I don't think it would be convincing.
In honesty the last month has been taken up with things such as holidaying in Vanuatu (not much to do except snorkel; weather was mostly rainy; not cheap; full of ex-pats/Australians), prepping for the Egypt trip (oh the joy of reading books I should have read when I was an undergrad; compiling tour booklets; attending meetings), creating playlists for my mp3 player (I really want to buy a new one but cannot justify it), and enduring the saga of the tenancy tribunal (we still haven't got our overdue rent/damages...don't even get me started). And David Beckham dropped by to wow the locals.
Tea is required.
Tea was actually some time ago now; I was temporarily distracted by replying to an email, which, in turn, led to a bit of browsing for Egyptian archaeology books online, followed by a phone call to my favourite local 2nd hand book shop to ask them to put a couple of books aside for me. The phone call also involved a chat about movies with my new best mate sales assistant; she recommends a documentary about a bloke with amnesia, but can't remember what it is called (I know...).
Where was I?
Getting ready for Egypt has not just involved getting infected with mild doses of nasty diseases, no siree. It has also consisted of buying 3 new pairs of flip flops - one the usual rubbery but comfy, one a Birkenstock rip off, and one slightly spangly for the evenings. Who needs Prada when you have slightly sparkly flip flops? Not I. I also invested in some stunning 70s-esque mirrored aviator sunglasses, primarily to hide any involuntary eye-rolling, and Jo reckons they make me look as if I should be on a motorbike. She did not clarify whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. I would like to think good thing. Unlikely though.
And I managed to snag a copy of The Jam's Greatest Hits for $12 (4 quid), not that this has anything to do with going to Egypt, but I do love "A Bomb in Wardour Street".
Before I forget, as I have developed a habit of doing (for I am old), I somehow did something technical the other day - go me! Our el cheapo DVD player finally crapped out i.e. you had to trick it into actually playing DVDs by switching the power on and off about 78 times, so we bought ourselves a new all-singing all-dancing mini system that plays anything on disc. Except some of our DVDs. Yes, I do know there are DVD "regions". And I do know that not all "regions" and players are compatible. However, the machine seemed to be quite happy to play some DVDs and not others, despite them being the same regions. Bollocks. And arse.
So, I phoned the nice man at the shop and he told me to phone the tech support company. The nice man at the tech support company claimed to have no knowledge of the model of DVD player we had bought, but gave me some devious code that allegedly would magically make the machine multi-regional. Guess what? It didn't work. Bumflaps.
Being an internet goober I went online. I found a code posted by a very nice man in Brazil that allegedly would magically make the machine multi-regional. Guess what? It worked.
To say I was stunned would be a reasonably accurate description.
Now I am able to watch DVDs until my eyes bleed (love the visual) and have indeed rented some treats for this weekend (Volver, Keane - neither Roy Keane nor the pop group, but a jolly film about mental illness - and Dreamgirls). We are also the proud new owners of My So-Called Life.
laters
Only a tiny bit, fresh from the doctor's surgery, but typhoid all the same. In the form of a vaccine. I was going to use that as a really feeble excuse for not having written anything for over a month, but as I only went to the GP this morning, even I don't think it would be convincing.
In honesty the last month has been taken up with things such as holidaying in Vanuatu (not much to do except snorkel; weather was mostly rainy; not cheap; full of ex-pats/Australians), prepping for the Egypt trip (oh the joy of reading books I should have read when I was an undergrad; compiling tour booklets; attending meetings), creating playlists for my mp3 player (I really want to buy a new one but cannot justify it), and enduring the saga of the tenancy tribunal (we still haven't got our overdue rent/damages...don't even get me started). And David Beckham dropped by to wow the locals.
Tea is required.
Tea was actually some time ago now; I was temporarily distracted by replying to an email, which, in turn, led to a bit of browsing for Egyptian archaeology books online, followed by a phone call to my favourite local 2nd hand book shop to ask them to put a couple of books aside for me. The phone call also involved a chat about movies with my new best mate sales assistant; she recommends a documentary about a bloke with amnesia, but can't remember what it is called (I know...).
Where was I?
Getting ready for Egypt has not just involved getting infected with mild doses of nasty diseases, no siree. It has also consisted of buying 3 new pairs of flip flops - one the usual rubbery but comfy, one a Birkenstock rip off, and one slightly spangly for the evenings. Who needs Prada when you have slightly sparkly flip flops? Not I. I also invested in some stunning 70s-esque mirrored aviator sunglasses, primarily to hide any involuntary eye-rolling, and Jo reckons they make me look as if I should be on a motorbike. She did not clarify whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. I would like to think good thing. Unlikely though.
And I managed to snag a copy of The Jam's Greatest Hits for $12 (4 quid), not that this has anything to do with going to Egypt, but I do love "A Bomb in Wardour Street".
Before I forget, as I have developed a habit of doing (for I am old), I somehow did something technical the other day - go me! Our el cheapo DVD player finally crapped out i.e. you had to trick it into actually playing DVDs by switching the power on and off about 78 times, so we bought ourselves a new all-singing all-dancing mini system that plays anything on disc. Except some of our DVDs. Yes, I do know there are DVD "regions". And I do know that not all "regions" and players are compatible. However, the machine seemed to be quite happy to play some DVDs and not others, despite them being the same regions. Bollocks. And arse.
So, I phoned the nice man at the shop and he told me to phone the tech support company. The nice man at the tech support company claimed to have no knowledge of the model of DVD player we had bought, but gave me some devious code that allegedly would magically make the machine multi-regional. Guess what? It didn't work. Bumflaps.
Being an internet goober I went online. I found a code posted by a very nice man in Brazil that allegedly would magically make the machine multi-regional. Guess what? It worked.
To say I was stunned would be a reasonably accurate description.
Now I am able to watch DVDs until my eyes bleed (love the visual) and have indeed rented some treats for this weekend (Volver, Keane - neither Roy Keane nor the pop group, but a jolly film about mental illness - and Dreamgirls). We are also the proud new owners of My So-Called Life.
laters
Monday, November 05, 2007
Guy Fawkes Monkey Dog
Not sure what happened, but we went into town to do some shopping on Saturday afternoon - 2 days before Guy Fawke's Night and in full daylight - leaving the Gert dog in the back garden as usual and something (or someone) managed to scare the dog so badly that she developed the climbing skills of a possessor of opposable thumbs. Yes, she climbed over a 5ft high gate. And she is not a big dog.
Luckily we found her on our street when we got home. Even more luckily, when she repeated the same feat at midnight a friend of ours happened across her and brought her home.
G now has bit of an issue about being left alone in the garden, so some major re-training & reassurance is the order of the next few weeks.
I am just about getting over the guilt, not that I did anything except be daft enough to assume people wouldn't be arsing about with fireworks during the day.
Won't be making that mistake again.
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Update
Still haven't done anything of particular interest; dog no longer has kennel cough & did not require vetinary attention; counting the days until our trip to Vanuatu; working a WHOLE 5 DAY WEEK this week (just wrong); think shitake mushrooms may be the answer to my bolognese sauce issues; weather still crap; have started running regularly again; promise I am trying to think of witty things to write about, but just not happening.
And I don't know that we have that many entertaining photos of the dog, but I will look (and why on earth would you be moderated? Strange man).
And I don't know that we have that many entertaining photos of the dog, but I will look (and why on earth would you be moderated? Strange man).
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
"Strong, like Angelina Jolie"
This, bizarrely, is how my colleagues Kayoko & Mary chose to describe me earlier today.
After a skeptically raised eyebrow (from me) and some hints from them on how to perfect my "Jolie-ness" (pout over my shoulder and get breast implants), I chose to take it as a compliment and move on with the day. Really, I can't think of many people I am less like than old Ange. Plus, I am fairly sure she isn't that "strong", though I wouldn't say that to her face.
In retrospect I was clearly having a foxy day. My erstwhile (temporarily) cooking buddy, Sam, dropped by on a break from rehearsing her new play and told me I was looking sexy, which I can only put down to looking knackered. I have no idea why, but apparently looking shattered works for me - I swear I have most often been chatted up/hit on whilst I, personally, think I look like crap warmed up. Ho hum. Good thing I was so stupendously sleep deprived at our civil union, I must have looked like a goddess.
OTHER NEWS - Gertie has kennel cough. Word on the street (ie Julia from dog day care) is that there is kennel cough outbreak sweeping through Wellington's canine population, though I am pretty sure G only has a mild dose so we haven't bothered to go to the vet for antibiotics. So far, it's just been a few wheezy hacks and some heavy sleeping.
The only other vaguely interesting thing that happened is getting bastard sunburn on the first sunny day for ages. Oh, and we've booked a week's holiday in Vanuatu next month.
Dull, huh?
After a skeptically raised eyebrow (from me) and some hints from them on how to perfect my "Jolie-ness" (pout over my shoulder and get breast implants), I chose to take it as a compliment and move on with the day. Really, I can't think of many people I am less like than old Ange. Plus, I am fairly sure she isn't that "strong", though I wouldn't say that to her face.
In retrospect I was clearly having a foxy day. My erstwhile (temporarily) cooking buddy, Sam, dropped by on a break from rehearsing her new play and told me I was looking sexy, which I can only put down to looking knackered. I have no idea why, but apparently looking shattered works for me - I swear I have most often been chatted up/hit on whilst I, personally, think I look like crap warmed up. Ho hum. Good thing I was so stupendously sleep deprived at our civil union, I must have looked like a goddess.
OTHER NEWS - Gertie has kennel cough. Word on the street (ie Julia from dog day care) is that there is kennel cough outbreak sweeping through Wellington's canine population, though I am pretty sure G only has a mild dose so we haven't bothered to go to the vet for antibiotics. So far, it's just been a few wheezy hacks and some heavy sleeping.
The only other vaguely interesting thing that happened is getting bastard sunburn on the first sunny day for ages. Oh, and we've booked a week's holiday in Vanuatu next month.
Dull, huh?
Friday, October 12, 2007
You are feeling sleepy, very sleepy.
So, of course my seminar fell on the only sunny day we have had in Wellington for about 2 weeks. Even now the skies are grey and miserable, although at least the driving gale force winds and sheeting rain appear to have temporarily abated.
I didn't take the first seminar session, leaving me able to observe. I was suitably impressed that a couple of old blokes in the front row (and directly in front of the lecturer's podium/control centre) dozed off almost instantaneously. Apart from over-running a little, all seemed to go well. I even managed to rampage through Architecture, Art & Hieroglyphics in an hour, which has the huge advantage of leaving little or no time for questions. Genius.
Now nothing to do except keep my head down and get ready for the actual trip in January 2008. Think I might start justifying the purchase of an mp3 player with more memory for the trip.
But that was last week and this week is obviously not.
Having used the terrible weather as an excuse to flake out of running, along with Jo's enforced work-related absence in Auckland - if she is away I am responsible for all dog exercise (two walks a day) and Gert has more than convinced me of her dislike of jogging - the only moderately inclement conditions today meant that I got my backside into gear and actually went for a run for the first time in a couple of weeks. It was a sweaty red-faced affair, I was smirked at by a goth/arty/alternative type individual and succumbed to the pompous mindset of "well, at least I won't die of coronary heat disease, maybe, well, perhaps a couple of years later than if I don't jog". Ugh, I hate myself for that. Must be growing up if I am rejecting my instinctive super judgmentalism.
Yes, this week has mostly consisted of my voice being trashed from non-mumbling at the seminar, headaches and grumpiness that I consider to be directly related to the severe sleep deprivation caused by the bog-awful & incredibly noisy weather, mixed with a bit of scowling and bitching because Jo was on another business trip.
Oh well, it's almost Saturday and I may just go & watch "Downfall" on DVD now. If the player agrees.
I didn't take the first seminar session, leaving me able to observe. I was suitably impressed that a couple of old blokes in the front row (and directly in front of the lecturer's podium/control centre) dozed off almost instantaneously. Apart from over-running a little, all seemed to go well. I even managed to rampage through Architecture, Art & Hieroglyphics in an hour, which has the huge advantage of leaving little or no time for questions. Genius.
Now nothing to do except keep my head down and get ready for the actual trip in January 2008. Think I might start justifying the purchase of an mp3 player with more memory for the trip.
But that was last week and this week is obviously not.
Having used the terrible weather as an excuse to flake out of running, along with Jo's enforced work-related absence in Auckland - if she is away I am responsible for all dog exercise (two walks a day) and Gert has more than convinced me of her dislike of jogging - the only moderately inclement conditions today meant that I got my backside into gear and actually went for a run for the first time in a couple of weeks. It was a sweaty red-faced affair, I was smirked at by a goth/arty/alternative type individual and succumbed to the pompous mindset of "well, at least I won't die of coronary heat disease, maybe, well, perhaps a couple of years later than if I don't jog". Ugh, I hate myself for that. Must be growing up if I am rejecting my instinctive super judgmentalism.
Yes, this week has mostly consisted of my voice being trashed from non-mumbling at the seminar, headaches and grumpiness that I consider to be directly related to the severe sleep deprivation caused by the bog-awful & incredibly noisy weather, mixed with a bit of scowling and bitching because Jo was on another business trip.
Oh well, it's almost Saturday and I may just go & watch "Downfall" on DVD now. If the player agrees.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
for your information, David...
The answer is yes, no, maybe - whatever. I am channelling my inner Tori Spelling. Could be worse.
I am in recovery from my weekend seminar at the university, where I had to valiantly overcome my natural tendencies to mumble incoherently and PROJECT my voice so a lecture hall could actually hear my fascinating insights into Ancient Egyptian mythology & religion etc etc in 2 one and a bit hour sessions. Aside from accidentally switching all the lights off (I don't know how; something to do with their high falutin' touch sensitive control panel), I was convincing and quite enjoyed myself.
Though I have been informed by sources close to me that if I insist on making my amusing "jokes" during a lecture I might want to signpost them a bit. At least I didn't say "curse-ed" this time round.
Aside from that the only other news is that my DVD player refused to play "Downfall" (Christmas gift from mum - genius), but was quite happy with "Cagney & Lacey". Who knew?
I am in recovery from my weekend seminar at the university, where I had to valiantly overcome my natural tendencies to mumble incoherently and PROJECT my voice so a lecture hall could actually hear my fascinating insights into Ancient Egyptian mythology & religion etc etc in 2 one and a bit hour sessions. Aside from accidentally switching all the lights off (I don't know how; something to do with their high falutin' touch sensitive control panel), I was convincing and quite enjoyed myself.
Though I have been informed by sources close to me that if I insist on making my amusing "jokes" during a lecture I might want to signpost them a bit. At least I didn't say "curse-ed" this time round.
Aside from that the only other news is that my DVD player refused to play "Downfall" (Christmas gift from mum - genius), but was quite happy with "Cagney & Lacey". Who knew?
Friday, September 21, 2007
Shameless plug
I forgot I was going to put a shameless plug for the new website/online shop of a friend of mine.
www.perfectlyvintage.co.uk
It's run by my friend and former work minion Cathy, who used to shame me daily with her perfect coiffure and fabulous shoes. My daily work dress code usually ran more along the lines of "can I cycle in it?" and "are there any visible stains?". Despite this constant reminder of my sartorial failings, Cathy & I had a very healthy working relationship based upon her ability to find me very amusing & regular delivery of trashy celeb mags.
Go and check it out.
www.perfectlyvintage.co.uk
It's run by my friend and former work minion Cathy, who used to shame me daily with her perfect coiffure and fabulous shoes. My daily work dress code usually ran more along the lines of "can I cycle in it?" and "are there any visible stains?". Despite this constant reminder of my sartorial failings, Cathy & I had a very healthy working relationship based upon her ability to find me very amusing & regular delivery of trashy celeb mags.
Go and check it out.
Slowly, slowly summer creeps towards me.
Listening to the radio playlist on David Byrne's website. It's 'pop' and I'm quite enjoying it so far.
What I should be doing is reminding myself about the use of illustration in Egyptian texts and whether the Fayum mummy portraits are true portraits, but I'm blogging instead. Why? Because I am the queen of procrastinators and Jo has dealt with all the domestic stuff around the house (except vacuuming; I am saving that for tomorrow).
I doubt that you are wondering where I have been for the last month or so, but in case you were I haven't been doing anything truly groundbreaking. Sorry to disappoint. The main bugbear of recent times has been a trying saga involving tenancy tribunals, non-payment of rent and tenancy agreement issues - yes, I confess I am a landlady. Through circumstance rather than choice, but a landlady nonetheless. The whole sordid tale should be finally brought to a crashing and definite end in the next few days (clue - bailiffs are now involved), but my feeble lefty liberal leanings have been quite bruised.
I am also fairly bruised, particularly in the area of my left knee, from my latest attempts to recapture my youth and snowboard. This time we went to Turoa, the other side of Mount Ruapehu. In an attack of over-zealousness, I agreed to test my ability by hitting a blue (intermediate) run. It was not pretty and I spent the rest of the day larking about on the training slope, where I managed for the first time to complete a full turn without falling over. In fact I managed 3 whole turns in a row - once. I also realised that snowboarding/learning to snowboard is quite knackering, so by early afternoon I was shattered. Jo headed off and did some fancy schmancy black/blue runs, just to make the trip worth her while and then we headed back to our motel. The return journey was fairly heavily laden with me going on and on about being far too old for this shit and we have now reached a semi-compromise for next year's efforts = doubtless I will be knackered by lunchtime, so I should just head back to wherever we are staying and then drive back up to collect Jo when she's done. If, by some freakish turn of fate, I manage to master going downhill on snow on a slidey thing without maiming myself, I can of course join in the fun. Otherwise I'll just go home and read/cook/play with dog/whatever.
What I haven't mentioned about my most recent mountain hi-jinks was the amount of swearing and at least two incidents of rage-fuelled snow throwing. So, so undignified.
However, I did return home to find a letter containing some photos of my most recently acquired godchildren, Joe & Fin, who (just like my other godsprog, Megan) appear to be two of the most lovely babies ever. Hooray for Funnell genes!
Adios.
What I should be doing is reminding myself about the use of illustration in Egyptian texts and whether the Fayum mummy portraits are true portraits, but I'm blogging instead. Why? Because I am the queen of procrastinators and Jo has dealt with all the domestic stuff around the house (except vacuuming; I am saving that for tomorrow).
I doubt that you are wondering where I have been for the last month or so, but in case you were I haven't been doing anything truly groundbreaking. Sorry to disappoint. The main bugbear of recent times has been a trying saga involving tenancy tribunals, non-payment of rent and tenancy agreement issues - yes, I confess I am a landlady. Through circumstance rather than choice, but a landlady nonetheless. The whole sordid tale should be finally brought to a crashing and definite end in the next few days (clue - bailiffs are now involved), but my feeble lefty liberal leanings have been quite bruised.
I am also fairly bruised, particularly in the area of my left knee, from my latest attempts to recapture my youth and snowboard. This time we went to Turoa, the other side of Mount Ruapehu. In an attack of over-zealousness, I agreed to test my ability by hitting a blue (intermediate) run. It was not pretty and I spent the rest of the day larking about on the training slope, where I managed for the first time to complete a full turn without falling over. In fact I managed 3 whole turns in a row - once. I also realised that snowboarding/learning to snowboard is quite knackering, so by early afternoon I was shattered. Jo headed off and did some fancy schmancy black/blue runs, just to make the trip worth her while and then we headed back to our motel. The return journey was fairly heavily laden with me going on and on about being far too old for this shit and we have now reached a semi-compromise for next year's efforts = doubtless I will be knackered by lunchtime, so I should just head back to wherever we are staying and then drive back up to collect Jo when she's done. If, by some freakish turn of fate, I manage to master going downhill on snow on a slidey thing without maiming myself, I can of course join in the fun. Otherwise I'll just go home and read/cook/play with dog/whatever.
What I haven't mentioned about my most recent mountain hi-jinks was the amount of swearing and at least two incidents of rage-fuelled snow throwing. So, so undignified.
However, I did return home to find a letter containing some photos of my most recently acquired godchildren, Joe & Fin, who (just like my other godsprog, Megan) appear to be two of the most lovely babies ever. Hooray for Funnell genes!
Adios.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
If you want to look at all the photos (I only published the ones that makes me look good)...
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10832&l=1fc67&id=550072789
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