So, this is how the thing goes

When I started this blog it was partly to keep a record of my Ph D studies, which is something that doesn't actually happen all that much. There again there's a limit to the number of blog entries you can do that say 'Read all day'. It reminds me of Molesworth's attempts to keep a diary which very quickly devolved into a litany of 'Forget what did, forget what did, played'.

 

Anyway I recently produced a piece of written work for my supervisor and I'm rather dreading the feedback. This is because when I am working on something I think it's really good. I have to think it's the best piece of work I'm capable of at the time, or I couldn't submit it. Then after it's given in/sent off for about half an hour I'm really pleased with it. Then the doubts start to creep in. After a couple of hours I've convinced myself it's superficial, badly argued  and un-scholarly. By the next day I have added badly written to the tally. After a week I never want to see the thing again because it's rubbish.

 

Very very occasionally something I wrote stands up to my scrutiny. I still think the thesis I did for my Leeds MA on Elizabeth Gaskell is good, and every couple of years I get it off the book shelf and re-read it. My UHI MA on the other hand I have not re-read since the final check before submission. Can't bear to think how below par it turned out to be.

 

I'm hoping that my Ph D thesis once complete tends more to the Gaskell end of the scale.  Obvs.

Return of The Woodentops

Shetland is back. I was quite pleased, OH less so. We were watching the second episode and he said 'You know, he cant even move his ears'.

Now even I, after 34 years of marriage, found that one a bit puzzling.

'Yer wot?' (Yes we do talk like that sometimes, and if you think that's bad you should hear us when we're putting on funny voices and pretending to be one of the cats.)

 

'Spotty Dog,' he said. 'Spotty Dog was that wooden, but at least he had very eloquent ears.'

I cannot deny that Spotty Dog, a puppet in a long defunct children's TV series called The Woodentops and set on a farm, did indeed have eloquent ears. Or at least that when he wagged them everyone on the farm seemed to understand what he was trying to say.

 

I have to say that Shetland is slow. And not in a good way like The Killing or The Bridge. However I have enjoyed watching it for the scenery and also spotting all the places we went to when we did a brief trip to Shetland a few years ago now.

 

I think the books are more involving, and the criticism I recently read that Shetland was becoming too like Midsomer with an unbelievably high body count is a wee bit justifiable.

Quiz question  - which of these two wooden feature artists communicates best? 



And another thing - when did shop assistants

get so pushy?

I noticed this on our recent trip to Sheffield. It seemed ubiquitous.

The worst example was in L'occitane en Provence in Meadowhall. Now I've seen these shops a few times on trips south and thought they looked nice but I remain mainly loyal to Orkney Soap when it comes to buying shower gel and so on so I've never been inside one.

However I was looking for a birthday present for my sister and she loves bath stuff so that seemed like a good excuse to storm the hallowed portals and have a good look round. Ha! Fat chance of a leisurely browse. We were pounced on as soon as we got through the door.

'Can I help you with anything today?'

'Not just at the moment thanks, I'd just like a look around to see what you have'.

'Well OK, but if there's anything I can help you with, just give me a shout'

(Thinks - how big do you think this shop is? If I need help, asking for it in a normal tone of voice will suffice, we are not talking the cavernous halls of Harrods here)

We'd got as far as shelving unit number two on the right hand side when there she was again, waving one of those bits of paper at us, those ones designed to help you smell stuff, they look like post-its made out of blotting paper.

'I thought you might like to try our brand new fragrance Neroli. It's beautiful'.

OK what made you think that? what part of I'd just like to look around for now is so difficult to understand?

But being  a polite sort of person I responded politely.

'Do you do it in a body wash?'

'No, but we do have a lovely shower gel.'

Now colour me unusual if you will, but if I want a shower gel that's what I'll ask for, assuming I am being hounded by a shop assistant I feel obliged to talk to when really I just want to get on and find my own stuff.

'I'm looking for a birthday present for my sister. She doesn't like shower gel, prefers bubble bath or body wash'.

'Oh well, I'm afraid we don't do many body washes. Mainly shower gel'

'I'd noticed' - this through gritted teeth.

To cut a long story short she fetched the two body washes they did have and given that one smelled like Johnsons Baby Lotion I bought the other one. I did think, considering how relatively expensive it was, that it might have come in a box, but no, all I got for handing over a large denomination note was the stuff in a bottle.

 

Now here's the thing. They had some lovely looking stuff in that shop and given that when I'm on holiday I buy the sort of frivolous stuff I can't get here, I'm sure that left to myself I would have had a good mooch and then spent quite a lot of money on both my sister's present plus things for myself. But I never got the chance to browse, because the assistant wouldn't leave me alone. So really all she did was shoot herself in the foot.

 

My elder son says that it's all down to the recession and that assistants are really pushed to make their daily sales targets. I can understand that. But along with a large proportion of the women I know, I have spent some time doing shop work. You don't have to be a genius to differentiate between the people who want immediate help, the people who will come to you when they want help, and the people who want to be left alone to do their own selecting in peace. 

For Those Who Like Birds....

could I recommend this site?

http://efm.dept.shef.ac.uk/peregrine/


It's a webcam set up by the University of Sheffield on a peregrine nesting platform.

My late brother-in-law pointed us in its direction last year and we wasted spent many a happy hour watching. We joined in after the eggs had hatched last time, but this time we're there before the eggs have all been laid so should get to see them hatch..

Just a quick word of warning; once they start feeding the fledglings there's an awful lot of dead pigeon bits being torn apart on camera, so if you're squeamish about that sort of thing possibly best to give this a miss.

I am a bit squeamish, but I'm also pigeon phobic, so the sight of dead ones being torn  to bits and eaten doesn't bother me.

I did post about this and the link last year, but now that it's active again it seemed worth a reminder.

A Bear Called Irresistible

We have a lot of soft toys in our house. And I mean a lot. A lot as in we could start our own soft toy shop and not have to restock for several months. (Well, depending on Sales, naturally).

 

I could claim not to know how this happened, but the fact is that I know only too well. I married a hoarder and spawned two  others and they are all  ridiculously attached to soft toys. Although son no 1 has had to rein himself in somewhat as his wife is neither a hoarder nor a lover of soft cuddly toys.

Once son no 2 reached 18 I said 'No More'. I said 'We are all too old for this sort of thing'. I said 'We have too many of them already'. I said 'I know I sound like a grumpy  sensible old  kill joy, but really we have a soft toy version of almost every creature known to man, indeed some known only in fantasy fiction, and Enough is Enough'.

 

This was a slight exaggeration. As it happens we do not have a soft cuddly walrus. Or a locust. But I'm sure you get my drift.

 

So I was rather surprised, two weeks ago, to find myself agreeing to buy son no 2 a new bear. He caught me in a lovely shop in Corbridge at a weak moment. I have to say that the photo does not do sufficient justice to the overall loveliness and cuteness and general huggableness that is this bear. I just could not say No.  

 

Hence the name. The Irresistible Bear.

Three Hundred Plus.

I've mentioned the film 300 a few times on this blog. It's a film I have a soft spot for,  for several reasons

1      Everyone in the family enjoyed it. This is a rare thing.

2      It is known in this house as Tre Hundra, from an incident that took place in a Norwegian lesson.         It's been Tre Hundra, rather than Three Hundred for us ever since.

3      It featured David Wenham in a fairly major role. I may have mentioned my admiration for Mr   Wenham's acting abilities here too. On the odd occasion.

4      It was beautifully directed. So stylised, so greek urn, so original graphic novel. Loved it.

So when I heard they were making a sequel I was quite excited. And when we realised it was on in Sheffield when we were down there for the funeral and we had a spare evening with all the four of us there it seemed like a good idea to go.

 

In the event it wasn't a total success. This was partly because of the price of the tickets. I know we get out of touch here in Orkney with the price of things south but more than £10 a ticket? Really? How do they justify that?

 

It was mostly to do with the film though. Derivative, badly acted, thoughtlessly scripted and not nearly as well directed as the original. It was also a bit of a gore fest although I didn't mind that so much. After 300 I was expecting that there would be gore.

 

I have to say that the women generally acted better than the men although there were only two of them really; Lena Headey and Eva Green. Headey was OK, although I thought she channelled Cersei from A Game of Thrones a bit too much. Green  acted up a storm, and was gorgeous into the bargain.

 

On the upside it was a bit of an historical  romp, and when you're in an unhappy situation, which we were, historical romps can have a lot going for them.

 

Overall recommendation - rather than pay,  wait for it to hit the telly screen.

Been Away: Now Back Home

We've been south to Sheffield, for the funeral of the OH's brother. It was fairly grim, although what other sort of funeral is there really?

Brother-in-law, Peter, was a Professor at Sheffield University and when we arrived at the Crematorium we were all overwhelmed by the number of people waiting outside to attend the service. There were friends and colleagues and students and former students from Sheffield, from all over the UK and from further afield.

 

Son no 2 had been asked to do a reading; he was quite upset on the day and I worried that he might not manage, but in the event, the acting training kicked in and he made a good job of it. The text was 'Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep' which is not a personal favourite but the OH had been asked to choose something and that was what he picked so that was what was read.

 

After the service there was a reception at the University and several people gave very moving accounts of the way Peter had touched their lives, whether as researcher, supervisor or colleague. It was comforting to know that he had meant so much to so many people and also that the work he had done was so ground breaking and important. Sadly none of that really makes up for the fact that at 61, he really was far too young to die.