Joyous Opprtunities

So at her invitation  I saw my Director of Studies on Tuesday, just I think, for a morale boosting chat. Needless to say ID card and letter confirming my official registration have not yet arrived but I think that even I, pessimist that I am, am now convinced that this Ph D thing is real and is finally going to happen.

 

DoS is going to organise a video conference asap for me and the supervisory team followed by a face to face meeting in Glasgow later in the spring, so we are making progress and meanwhile the advice is to 'keep reading Anne' which is what I'm doing.

 

In fact when I left college I nipped to the library and found that they had had a bit of a shuffle around and had lots of new books over from the library in Stromness. Lots of stuff in the literature section that I hadn't come across before, so I came home on the bus hauling two huge books; a biography of Edwin Morgan and  the Collected Poems of Norman MacCaig. Only slightly more than peripherally relevant, but it's all grist to the mill.*

 

While I chatted with the DoS I was once again amazed by the number of the  luminaries of the Scottish Literary world whom she knows, and more than a little excited [star struck?] by the thought that I would be meeting quite a few of them myself in the foreseeable future. She summed it up for me really when she said 'The next five years for you Anne is just a series of joyous opportunities' and the phrase really struck.

 

So when I get discouraged, upset, frustrated, lose confidence, hit the wall, feel stupid or ignorant, all the things that I know will happen during the next few years, I'm going to come back to this post and remind myself that however difficult the moment might be, the process is life enhancing.

 

*I also borrowed a crime novel set in Norfolk recommended to me by a friend. Guess which of the three I read on the bus?

A Doctor Calls

I had a phone call from my GP's surgery this morning. Since I haven't seen the doctor for months this came very much out of the blue and worried me sick - and that was before I got to the phone.

 

Anyway GP said  he wanted to book me in for a bone scan in Aberdeen. At this point all sorts of horrible alarm bells started going off in my head; why? what's wrong with me? and why don't I know about it?

 

Well he said it was because of my age and my broken ankle. Apparently it counts as a 'fragility fracture' as opposed to breaking something when you fall from a great height onto a hard surface, and if I had broken my ankle ten years ago no-one would have cared. But now, at my much more advanced age,  it could be a warning sign of the onset of osteoporosis and better safe than sorry and he's sorry it means going to Aberdeen but could he go ahead and book it?

 

I said yes after a few questions about what the point of it all was; I mean why trek all the way to Aberdeen if the result is that you have got early signs of osteoporosis and there's nothing that can be done. Memories of my grandmother, who was given fizzy calcium tablets to take for about 15 years by the GP; we were told later that they did her no good because she was so old when she started taking them. But that was 40 years ago [how can I even remember things that happened 40 years ago?] and no doubt medicine has moved on.

 

So I shall wait to hear the date. I'm not really deep down worried about it, but I have to say that pro-active medicine like this, while a good thing in itself, can give you some worrying moments..

A Dark and Stormy Night...

...is what we had yesterday, followed by a not quite so dark but equally stormy day.

 

According to the Shipping Forecast, which we listen to avidly, Orkney had Gale Force 8 to Storm Force 10 winds overnight gusting to Violent Storm 11. And today recorded winds of 82 mph.

 

The ferries for today were cancelled yesterday and the barriers have been closed all day. That's all fairly standard stuff. Not quite so standard was the closure of several roads because of the strength of the tidal surge. It was sort of fun watching the sea gather itself up and dump itself on a house we almost bought on the other side of Watersound.

 

Knock on effects include no TV because the satellite isn't getting a signal, no postal deliveries and rationing our tea and coffee intake so that we don't run out of milk since the local shop won't be getting any more in until the winds drop and the barriers open. Let's hope that's tomorrow!

Where Do You Stand on Charm?

This is the clever book previously alluded to and I've been working my way through it. It's in three parts and the first part is called  Hugh McDiarmid and the Arts of Modern Scotland.

 

That's not terribly surprising of course. Hugh McDiarmid stands, a monolith,  in the history of  20th Century Scotland. No consideration of language, poetry, prose, criticism or politics in modern Scotland would be complete without reference to him. As he would have been the first to point out.

 

The thing is I have a problem with McDiarmid, and the problem is that, given what I know about the man,  I suspect that I would have loathed him on sight, and with what I would consider to be good reason.

 

But anyone who ever expresses doubt about McDiarmid is instantly silenced by others  who knew him, and assert that the doubters would, on meeting the great man, be captivated by his charm and end up an admirer like everyone else.

 

I don't buy that, and not because I think McDiarmid was devoid of charm. By all accounts he had it by the bucketload. But I don't like charm. I don't trust people who have it. It's insincere and specious and those who possess it use it ruthlessly to gain their own ends. I've been in rooms with charmers, watched them work and resisted them and yes, if you do that, you end up looking like a sulky teenager while everyone else gives them what they want and wonders why  you have to be such a wet blanket. 

 

But I'd rather be a wet blanket with her wits about her than someone who despised herself for falling for a charmer's hypocrisy.

 

So although the next few years will undoubtedly change my mind about lots of things, and I may well end up an admirer of McDiarmid's work, nothing will ever convince me that I'd have found him personally congenial.

 

Charm? Not a recommendation in my book.

Never say never - but there again....

There are some actors who I would watch in anything. Until last week I counted David Morrissey among their number.

Then I saw him in a trailer for an episode of the American horror series The Walking Dead.

I watched it.

I gather he will be in it again next week.

I won't be watching.

Can't help wondering if he needed the money that badly?

But then, could anyone need the money that badly?

I Is Tired

A few weeks ago a nice man called Innes rang up and asked if our holiday flat was available from tomorrow for two weeks. I stifled an urge to laugh at the thought that I was turning away tourists in droves at this time of year and told him yes, and he booked it. It wasn't for him, it was for two of his employees who were coming to Orkney to do some tidal energy monitoring right next to our friend Sue and they needed somewhere to stay and Sue had suggested our flat. Which was very kind of her and we're grateful.

 

It did mean though that we had to flog all the way over to Birsay this morninng, which is about as far away from where we live as you can get on Orkney without actually driving into the sea. That side of Orkney is also covered in snow, something which our own little corner of the county has so far avoided. And once we got there we had to clean the flat. Since the place hadn't been properly cleaned since after the last lot of guests left in September that gave us a bit to do. Still Sue turned up at one stage with a cake and we put the kettle on and had a chin wag, and I gave her the receipt for Innes' employees and strict instructions not to hand it over until they had given her the cheque for the rental and after about four hours really hard work the place was ready. And it looked good, very cosy and welcoming, if I do say it myself.

 

When we got home my ankle and my back both ached really badly so I settled myself in a chair with the TV remote to hand, a cat on my lap and my latest sock project in my hands. It's the most intricately patterened sock I have yet attempted, which wouldn't necessarily be saying much since I haven't tackled anything too advanced in the way of patterned socks until now; however this one is a huge step forwards and  I am pleased at how relatively quickly they are growing. They were a great stress buster/excuse not to look at the screen at various points in Whitechapel [don't ask me why I watch it because I really don't know].

 

I'm planning to spend part of tomorrow reading a Very Clever Book about poetry and art in Scotland, which I have to sort of tee myself up to as it's quite dense and involves me in looking properly at pictures and stopping every few pages to make sure I'm following the argument so far, and when I've done that I shall reward myself by doing the heel flap and turn on my sock. That sounds like a plan.

Do I Believe This?

I had a message from my putative  Director of Studies this morning saying that we have the green light, everything is good to go, paperwork off to Aberdeen and could she have a digital photo for my ID card.

 

I have no idea why anything is going via Aberdeen since UHI Admin is based in Inverness and the Post Graduate Studies part of UHI is administered from Oban, but I don't really care. Maybe Aberdeen (not part of UHI incidentally) is the only place with the technology for turning digital photos into student ID cards in the North of Scotland.

 

Since I have thought before that I am at the starting gate I am not getting excited about any of this yet. But it may be progress.

 

In another part of the forest, I finished the make-it-in-a-week junper and it actually took nine days, due, as mentioned previously, to my inability to work up any enthusiasm for sewing bits of knitting together.  I'm pleased with how it turned out; when I tried it on the only thing I didn't  like about it was the body inside it. Picture forthcoming in the planned craft round up of the month at the end of January. Although jumper will be laid out on some furnitore rather than being modelled.

 

And even more good news? the car passed its MOT this morning. Done locally, not in Inverness where I'm sure they would have found some invisible but  corroded hydraulic pipes to replace at great expense.  I said darkly to OH  'It Just Shows' and he pretended to agree. He thinks that if he panders to my insistence on getting stuff done on the  car here and not on mainland Scotland for the next twelve months  I will give in and  allow him another Citroen when the current one needs replacing.

 

To which the only thing I can say is this.

 

Not. A. Chance.

Buzz, buzz, buzz

Yes, you have  my permission to groan because the title does indeed refer to the fact that of late I have been a busy little bee. Well busy in terms of a) living on a small island and b) recovering from a broken ankle and the flu simultaneously.

 

On Tuesday I went to the dentist and the physiotherapist which was a bit too medicall-y in prospect but all was well with both teeth and ankle. Well I say that but the physio was a bit disappointed that I hadn't taken the plunge and left off wearing the ankle support. And here was me thinking how wonderful it was that I had gone from two crutches to one to none! I said I was a bit scared of leaving off the support but apparently It Was Time. So now I have and although I live in almsot constant dread of feeling it 'go' and consequesntly falling to the floor, the physio's assertion that it really wouldn't do that Anne seems to be correct. When I told her that first thing in the morning I walk like a penguin, on acount of my ankle not wanting to flex she said breezily 'oh, you'll be doing that for months'. Which at least stops me worrying about the prospect that it will stay like that for ever. I think.

 

On Thursday morning a couple of friends and I took a jaunt to a local - ish coffee shop.I wish I'd taken a photo, because then I could have proved what a lovely day it was. For three days in a row this week while the rest of the UK lived with amber snow warnings and gradually ground to a halt on account of the white stuff falling out of the sky, we had sunshine, blue skies and blue seas. Before you go too green with envy though it was also very very cold and windy.

 

Orkney has lots of lovely coffee shops, as well as a few of the other variety,but the ones that aren't in either Kirkwall or Stromness, our two towns, tend to close over the winter. Which is understandable but a pain. However the Hoxa Head Tearoom, which only opened this summer has bucked the trend by opening five days a week over the winter season, and I hope it has been worth their while because it's nice to have somewhere to go that doesn't involve a 15 mile drive into Kirkwall. This place was purpose built so has huge windows overlooking the sea; it really is a wonderful view and the more I write about it the more I kick myself for not taking the camera. Next time....meanwhile back in the tearoom I was able to have a slice of coffee cake unadulterated by walnuts. Coffee cake without walnuts is one of my biggest reasons for going to Hoxa Head because everywhere else you go there is obviously an unwritten law that states Coffee Cake Must Contain Walnuts. I once had fresh walnuts and they were gorgeous but they bore little or no relation to the dry and bitter tasting things that pass for walnuts on supermarket shelves in the UK. It was good to have a catch up with G and R and somewhere out of our respective houses because we were all of us suffering a touch of cabin fever.

 

Thursday afternoon I did my e-resource training, a remarkable amount of which consisted of a discussion of computer games (I swear if my Ph D never gets done it will be because I spent too much time playing Caesar 3 and Farm Mania 2* ), but we did cover a lot of useful ground and I was introduced to some awesone and helpful stuff. Honestly, I'm starting to think I could do this whole thing without setting foot outside my study door, so comprehensive are the resources availabe on the web.

 

* If on the  other hand it never gets started that will be totally down to UHI admin who I did chase up about my Registration and from whom I have yet to receive a response.

 

On Saturday the OH dropped me off at the home of another friend. It was 2.30. After a very enjoyable time, friend dropped me back home.

'Where on earth have you been?' shrieked OH as I came through the door.

'It was Elaines' I said. You know I'm always ages at Elaines'.

'Yes' he responded 'but five hours? What on earth were you doing?'

'Talking'

'Talking? For five hours?'

'Yes' I said.' It was Elaines'.

 

What can I tell you? She and I could both talk for Scotland and we hadn't seen each other for a while.

 

In other news, my-make-a-sweater in a week didn't quite come off, mainly because progress slowed when I got to the sewing up stage, but I could have got it done if I'd been sterner with myself. It will definitely be ready by the weekend.

Sad, Sick and Lemon Loaves

The poor blog has been sadly neglected of late while I succumbed to some version or other of the winter flu bug. OH sadly went downwith it too, and it must have been bad because he actually took something for it and did spend a half day in bed. This is practically unheard of because OH, like many men when ill, likes to suffer in full view, and make pathetic attempts to stick to a normal routine thus eliciting sympathy. Actually all it elicits from me is irritation and the repeatedly expressed wish that he would take himself and his germs off to bed like any sane person does when sick, but that apparently is 'giving in', and that is Not a Good Thing To Do.

I became convinced that I would never be well; I knew I wasn't dying, I just thought I would never ever feel normal  again. However here I am, and although still a bit congested and not as awake as I might like, feeling almost chipper.

I was knocked out of my trough of self pity early last week when I heard from a friend who had just suffered a sudden and devastating bereavement. Suddenly Foggy Brain and Runny Nose Disease seemed an insufficient reason to be lying on a sofa with a box of tissues emitting the occasional moan. Worse things happen not just at sea, but on land, as my friend's experience shows. Taken all in all I am a very lucky person, and last week I realised that all over again.

Moving on, I am sufficiently recovered to have spent some of this afternoon in the kitchen making the lemon loaf cakes that I was planning on making on the afternoon of the Great Ankle Snap. [Please note careful lack of attribution of guilt to any person, even those of a thespian persuasion, in regard to this incident. We are not bitter and have left all that behind.] The cakes  look OK, in fact they look very nice, but would it be heresy to express the opinion that Mary Berry gets some of her timings a bit off? Since she is the Queen of Baking I suspect it would and obviously I am doing something wrong, although I'm da***d if I know what!

Be that as it may I am obviously as back on top of things as I ever get which means that tomorrow, in between visiting the physiotherapist and the dentist (lucky me!), I will be re-arranging the much delayed e-resource training at the college library and also asking UHI Admin once again what the hold up is with my Registration. They need to find a new reason, because the old one, to my sure and certain knowledge, no longer holds. So hey-ho! back to the fray.

I'll have nightmares

 

One of the things that I decided to do this year was watch more wildlife programs on TV. Actually for more, read any. I've never been a fan of these really for a variety of reasons, chief amongst them the fact that I'm not  all that interested in the natural world. ( So? Come shoot me. And while we're on the topic of things that don't interest me, add food. If all there was to eat in the world was bread butter cheese and chocolate my heart would not be broken.)

 

Anyway it occurred to me recently that I'm a bit ignorant of all the species that we share the planet with and given that we pass this way but once etc etc it maybe behoved me to find out a bit more about plants, animals, birds and so on.

 

Which explains why I didn't hit the Off button when BBC1 showed a repeat of the first episode of David Attenbrough's new series Africa this eveninig. There you go I thought, a chance to watch a wildlife documentary. Just what you were wanting.

 

I watched it and almost every minute of it reminded me of the reasons why I don't watch these things. First of all I didn't actually see manty species of which I had been previously unaware. Some red beaked birds and a blind golden catfish. That's not much for an hour's viewing is it?

 

Secondly there were huge swathes of it which reminded me of every other wildlife documentary I have ever been obliged to sit through before. A leopard loped about. He couldn't find food. Life was difficult for young leopards when their mother ceased to provide. I knew that was what the commentary was going to say before it was said. And why? Because every program about big cats you ever saw in your life does the thing about how difficult it is for them to find food. In fact the only surprising thing about big cats in wildlife documentaries is that they haven't all already died of starvation leaving wildlife documentary makers with no big cats to film.  

 

And thirdly, I don't care how brilliant almost everyone else in the world says he is, the breathy tones and relentless anthropomorphism of David Attenborough really get on my nerves. As does the cheese-y choice of music on the soundtrack. 

 

And finally there are the gory bits. What do you mean, which gory bits? There are always gory bits in this sort of thing. In this instance an attack on baby birds lying blind and helpless in their nest by a convoy of some fearsome looking insects called something like the armoured  ground cricket. Now imo blind featherless baby birds are some of the ugliest, most revolting creatures on the planet, but this does not mean that I want to watch them swarmed over and consumed by some equally repulsive insectoids. Just as I reached for the remote the voice over jauntily remarked that the parent birds were flying over the horizon in the nick of time to rescue their offspring, so I heaved a quick sigh of relief and left the program running. In the event the adult birds duly rescued their offspring, but not before one of them had been squirted in the eye by a foul smelling and slightly acidic secretion from the cricket. Self same cricket was then despatched to the desert floor by the other parent bird, where it  was promptly consumed by its fellows. So, an attenpted massacre of the innocents followd by parental sacrifice, treachery and cannibalism. And people say nature programs are relaxing!

 

On the upside, the socialising rhinos were quite endearing, the landscapes of the Kalahari and Namib deserts were breathtakingly beautiful and I learned that dung beetles push their little balls of dung backwards and with their back legs. What little acrobats they are to be sure!!

 

 

 

 

Inverness? Don't even ask!

Ooooooh, scary

Tomorrow, dear readers, I'm going to Inverness. I know this may be foolhardy but what can I tell you?

 

OH is taking son no 2 there to catch his coach back to Edinburgh and I thought I would go along for the ride, notwithstanding the fact that the last time I did that, about this time last year, it was a disaster.

 

We took the car down to be MOT'd; it took hours longer than anticipated, the bottom fell off the car on the way back (and yes that would be after the MOT, many thanks Arnold Clark), and courtesy of  the vagaries of Northlink and their willingness to cancel ferries for no apparent reason in the winter we were stuck in Thurso for 20 hours.

I'm hoping for better things this time. I've got a touch of cabin fever after being stuck in the house for so long, the weather was so awful over Christmas we hardly stuck our noses out of the door and it will be nice to get away, even if only for the day. The drive down to Inverness from the north coast is really beautiful and although Inverness and I don't get on, it does have a wider selection of shops than Kirkwall. I'm after some new stuff for the holiday flat and even if I don't find anything, I will at least get to set foot in a branch of Waterstones, and at the moment, that will do me.

The Prestige

 

 

 

 

My daughter-in-law used to work for Odeon Cinemas and she and son no 1 therefore saw an amazing number of films, usually for free. Which pleased them, as they are quite film buff-y. Anyway for years now he has been telling me I should watch The Prestige as it's such a great film and I would love it.

 

Seeing that it was on  TV yesterday I decided that I would watch it since it came so highly recommended. And I really don't know what to make of it.

 

This is partly because, wonderful actor though he is, I have never warmed to Christian Bale. He was good in this, I mean really really good. As was Jackman. And Michale Caine. And the basic premise of the film was a good one; two Victorian magicians locked in a feud, each trying to outdo the other.  

 

But I saw one major twist very early on, and several others as the film went on. I missed one completely though so not totally un-bamboozled. Over and above that though, the major problem was that neither of the two lead characters was at all likeable, and once you decide you don't care which of them is the best magician/comes out on top than there really isn't much point in watching the film. I stayed with it to the end, but I won't be rushing to watch it again.

Now they can be shown

Here are some of the Christmas projects I worked on while I was in plaster

First up, socks for my sister

 

 

 

this was in Regia Silk Sock and if I'd known how the stripes would pan out I wouldn't have bothered putting in a texture pattern as well - you live and learn.

The Falling Water scarf for my friend Glenda,

 

 

After all the faffing about trying to decide what to do with this wool I was very happy with how this turned out, and Glenda said she was thrilled with it. So that's good. 

 

 

 

 

 

And only two years late! the birth sampler for the grandson. I don't have a picture of this framed, because I sent it to my sister to get that done and then deliver it as they now all live in the same town.Safer than sending something with glass through the post from here.  If we ever drag ourselves down there I daresay I'll take a picture of it in the frame as it shows to better effect that way. It may have taken me two years on and - very much - off, but I certainly love it now it's done.

 

I also finished off another sampler to go in our kitchen but I'll wait to post a picture of that until it has its frame. Assuming the shops here ever open again, yesterday's extra bank holiday really caught us on the hop.

Happy New Year

I hate new year actually. It's because my temperament tends to the 'what disasters are to be visited upon us in the next twelve months?' rather than the 'what wonderful oppoerunities will come knocking for us in the next twelve months?'

 

(And although it's not exactly a disaster, and doesn't affect us personally, the news that Christopher Martin Jenkins, of the BBC Test Match cricket commentary team, just died, didn't  get 2013 off to the greatest start)

 

I don't make New Years Resolutions per se any more, because like giving things up for Lent, it's just a short cut to feeling a failure, but there are some things I intend to do this year which I hope will enrich my everyday life, or do me good, or both.

 

So in 2013 I will

 

get more fresh air and exercise

 

 listen to more music

 

 learn some Gaelic

 

 go out more

 

spend more time on my crafts

 

For many years my personal motto could have been 'Give me a rut and let me furnish it' and its probably time I challenged myself a bit more.