I'll miss my Saturday habit of spending two hours reading Weekend magazine. Put it another way, I'll miss having Weekend magazine.

 

 

When going through my make-up collection I found three lipsticks, which is bizarre 'cos I actually can't remember wearing lipstick (except for the purposes of sorting my make-up collection, which doesn't count). One was chucked. The other two I have kept, dubiously, but are of shades which would be eminently suitable for 'When I grow up I want(ed) to be: a prostitute'. This begs the question of how and why they came to be in my possession at all. No sarky comments please ;)

 

 

In a break from packing, I went onto GoogleMaps, a recently introduced website, and discovered that if you use the satellite view and zoom in far enough, you can identify my house (if you know where I live, that is!). The map's dated by the fact that a few road alterations around us are not yet in evidence, but the new houses in Merritts Brook are. I reckon the picture was taken three or four years ago? Still, it's really interesting to view the area from an aerial perspective.. there are one or two things that even I didn't know were there, and I've lived here for all bar six months of my life!

 

 

GoogleMaps claims that the distance from my house to Trevelyan College is 199 miles. The AA route planner says 203 miles. Split the difference, call it 201, and I'm beginning to wish that I was going a bit nearer to home.

 

 

People keep telling me, "Ooo, I know such-and-such-a-person at Durham! Let me give you their email address!". I have acquired several such email addresses now. There's a girl, Amy, going into her second year at Hatfield College studying English (a friend of Judy's). There's a lad doing a PhD in.. oh help.. engineering? physics? Something like that. And apparently he went to KEFW as well, although for most of his time there it must have been a boys' school, so it's not much of a link. There's a lad from Camp Hill in my year who's also going to be doing Maths - Pat James (Rachel's violin teacher) teaches him as well as my sister, and keeps telling me that he had an offer at Cambridge which he turned down to go to Durham. And then there's an American girl coming to Trevs - her dad is a scientist working in Switzerland, and he clearly got chatting to my dad at that conference in Geneva. (There is also, reputedly, a lad who wears nothing but tie-dye.. a lad whom I know nothing else about, but will no doubt be able to identify should I bump into him..! )

 

I haven't emailed any of them. I'm sure that I'll meet at least a couple of them in due course, but in a way, I'd rather meet them in person for the first time and take it from there. If we find that we have stuff in common we'll become friends anyway; if not, an email relationship manufactured by circumstance could be a bit awkward.

 

 

 

 

 

I am done. Packed. We leave in an hour and a half. We're driving up to Thirsk, having supper with the Barks, then driving for another half hour to stay overnight at Osmotherly youth hostel. We'd've liked to have stayed closer to Durham (than thirty miles away) but this weekend is the Great North Run, and all of the B&Bs for miles around were apparently booked up months ago.

 

 

So.. university...

 

I'm meant to be packing at the minute, but I'm feeling wonderfully blasé about the whole thing. Mum and I between us have been doing various bits of shopping over the past couple of days, and I think I've got most of the stuff I need, there's just one or two bits and bobs still to pick up (mug, tea-towel; preferably a dress, black skirt and zip-top..). Oh, and I was meant to be sorting the photos.. Well, I can go to Northfield this afternoon to give me a walk. But my packing is not so much a question of what I need as to how on earth I'm going to get it all to fit in the available bags; seeing as I'm bound to do it wrong myself anyway, I might as well wait until I have some help.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I came across a poem yesterday. Mum was looking up some stuff for her school's Christmas carol service, and she showed it to me as I came through, bored out of my brain from having done approximately nothing all day. So much drivel gets published in the name of poetry, it really makes you appreciate it when you come across something special, something that strikes you as great; be it great through its meaning, or great through its beauty. For me, anyway, and for Mum, this poem is one of those great ones. I know it's a little unseasonal, and probably a little religious for some - though it struck me, and I wouldn't count myself as Christian.. See what you think.

 

 

This was the moment when Before

Turned into After, and the future's

Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

 

This was the moment when nothing

Happened. Only dull peace

Sprawled boringly over the earth.

 

This was the moment when even energetic Romans

Could find nothing better to do

Than counting heads in remote provinces.

 

And this was the moment

When a few farm workers and three

Members of an obscure Persian sect

 

Walked haphazard by starlight straight

Into the kingdom of heaven.

 

 They've postponed Paul's trial again!

 

 

(Funny where you find out these things..)

 

The countdown is on. The bathrobe has been purchased (it's cream, which I'm still not quite sure about, but I can always swap it for a different colour if I leave the tags on for a bit). The jeans have been found (three cheers for Next!). The list is nowhere near made, forget packed, but there is a feeling of anticipation in the air which will no doubt heighten until I have finally left for the hexagonal kingdom of Trevelyan College, Durham!

 

*fanfares!*

 

 

I had a(nother) letter from the JCR today, containing messages of introduction from my Academic Mummies, Hannah and Ruth. Trevs is a pretty small college - 600 students in total - which I really like as it means that it's probably slightly easier to get to know people, what with the Academic Parenting system, the College tutors, the landing arrangements etc... - all designed for introverts like myself to get the most out of going to uni :)

 

Freshers Week is going to be mad. Amongst the departmental registration queues and other such *fun* administrative tasks, I will be attending:

   -- Landing Formal: formals are meals where you dress up smart, wear a Wheeldon-style academic gown and play silly games with 2p pieces

   --  a quiz night with my new tutor group

   --  an introduction to the University-wide union and Chesney Hawkes (I do mean Chesney Hawkes, don't I? Who is she anyway?)

   --  an introduction to Durham's, ahem, *nightlife* (Klute here we come.. I quote from Wikipedia: "In 1996, Klute was voted Europe's 2nd Worst Nightclub by FHM. The worst, located in Belgrade, was destroyed in a fire shortly thereafter, thus crowning Klute Europe's Worst Nightclub")

   --  Academic parenting jazz and cocktail night

   --  'Pirates of Trevelyan' Fresher's Bop

   --  Bar night: 'When I grow up, I want(ed) to be..'

 

It's the last two that are particularly worrying me. The others I can deal with. I can opt in or out of Chesney Hawkes depending on whether I like the sound of it, I have my ball dress from the summer which I reckon could just get away as cocktail, and big black gowns are just funny! But fancy dress...

 

Fancy dress is difficult! There are fine lines to draw. You want to look like you've made an effort, but not try-hard. You want to look original, but not like a complete and utter freak. You want to look attractive, but not slutty. The pirate night will be ok if I can find a stripy t-shirt and a headscarf.. stop sniggering!.. but the 'what I want to be..' is another matter. The whole 'nurse outfit' thing is a bit clichéd really - that and the fact that I don't have a nurse outfit. I could dress up as a mummy, I suppose, with my 50s housewife skirt, but that doesn't really fall into the 'attractive' category.. and the only other thought I had was to find some really scruffy clothes and say that I'm a freelance musician. But I don't want to send all the Music students into deep depression. Any ideas??? Please help!

 

Kinda thought that I ought to post something, though I have nothing particular to report.. so instead I'll upload the photos from the other night out! Kat and Cat have now gone :( , so as a final girly night out we decided to sample Broad Street - on the basis that it was a bit pathetic to be eighteen years old, living in Birmingham and not have sampled Broad Street. Actually I say girly night out - Will came too. But you know.. girly night out with a lad there..

 

So I'll put up the best photos, and will also put up some of Will's when I get him to send them to me. (And as an afterthought, I'll put one or two others from the pub in Harborne, Stratford etc. which have nowhere else to go)

 

 

Come back to Birmingham mes amies!!! I now have no reason to not do anything productive!

 

1) I phoned up the DSA for umpteen-millionth time just now, checking for cancellations. It turns out they do have a few slots at Kings Heath in the next two weeks - all at 7.20am. I could get the darn thing out of the way with and go for it.. or I could preserve my sleep and forget it 'til Christmas. I think I know which option Ron would prefer if I asked him...

 

2) The hair. Too short or not too short, that is the question. Only there's not a lot I can do about it now if I decide the former.

 

3) Do I wear jeans tonight or my denim skirt? The skirt doesn't fit properly, will give me cold legs and makes me look fatter than I am BUT if I wear jeans they will have to go straight in the wash and I won't have any trousers to wear for the next three days. This wasn't a problem when the weather was warmer and I could wear dresses/skirts without blinking but it's becoming a lil autumnal for that now... Why have I never had this problem before? There was school, I guess, and 'business dress', so that I could wash the jeans during the week. This is so stupid. I should have bought two pairs when I got them in Y11, so I wouldn't be having this problem now. Except it doesn't occur to you that you will never be able to buy trousers to fit again..

 

*sigh*

 

Dad's away in Switzerland.. again.. To be fair it's only for a week this time (for a conference) and it's Geneva not Zurich, but as Mum points out, Geneva vs Zurich becomes rather academic when Peter needs driving to tennis and I need driving to clarinet (ie. in completely different directions at the same time). I think a load of the group from ETH are going to be there, bringing with them a spare bike, and so will be Tim Softley. I'm sure they will have a very productive time walki-, I'm sorry, working together. Apparently there's also an indoor swimming pool on site. Your heart bleeds for him, doesn't it?

 

 

Cat and Kat and I went down on the train to Stratford yesterday, as a final little outing together before they both go off to university on Saturday. Well, OK, not final final as we're going out Broad Street tomorrow night 0:-), but final in terms of spending time together in a calm setting, able to hear what we're saying to each other! We'd been going to try and go see 'The Tempest', which the RSC is staging at the minute, but on discovering that there were only two tickets left, costing £38.50 each, it obviously wasn't a starter. What we did do in the end was look round a load of shops (a bit of a waste, really, 'cos we can do that in town, but Kat got some shoes for when she's on hospital placement), wander down by the river for a bit, had tea in a takeaway-cum-restaurant, wander some more, then wind up in a pub. The last was particularly nice, not because I bought any alcohol :), but because it was a non-smoking pub throughout and it just proved that it can and does work, and makes it a much more enjoyable experience for everybody. (Except the smokers, possibly, but who are they to talk about civil liberties? I want the civil liberty to breathe clean air and not come back from every night out stinking like an ashtray.)

 

The only slight snag was when Cat phoned up National Rail and discovered that we'd already missed the last train northbound (20.27??? Come off it!).. After a little panicking on my part and a quick phone call to the delightful Adam, we did manage to get home without paying a ridiculous taxi fare - penultimate train southbound to a tiny village called Hatton, then onto the London line back up to Moor Street for about 11pm; just in time to get the last local train of the evening! To be fair, it was completely our fault for not checking the times beforehand, but Stratford, people? Kinda procludes people from going to the theatre by public transport if the performance has to have ended by 8 o'clock! Ah well!

 

 

I bought a new going out top in the Dotty P sale in Stratford - a nice black, tie-around one, though some fake tan might be in order as I've got great t-shirt shaped marks halfway down my neck (I'm quite getting into the swing of being a shallow 18-yr-old, can you tell?!). I've revisted an old shopping resolution of mine - that I really must stop buying red going out tops. They tend to suit me better than some, that's all, but I've now got.. *counts*.. well, three. But that's out of four, including the one I've just bought, so some other colours might be in order! No jeans though, despite this being the second round of shops in looking for some.. though I guess buying shoes and jeans in the same retail season was a bit much to ask really. No second pair of jeans for me, then. Boooooring.

 

 

It feels kinda odd, what with the others leaving in three days time. I don't have to be in Durham 'til the 1st October, so even though Mum and Dad are taking me up the day before, I've still got over two weeks before I leave, another ten days before I need to worry about packing. I know that K/Cat are on healthcare courses, but a load of people who aren't seem to be going this weekend as well. Hell, even Ali goes back a couple of days before I do, and she's at Cambridge!

 

Obviously we'll all keep in touch as well as possible, and as Durham isn't that far from Leeds and Bradford (comparitively speaking), I'll be able to visit and stuff (in my 22 weeks holidays :-p), but.. well, it's still not the same. At least to start with, everyone'll be focused on making new friends and settling into their new routines, and that's as it should be, but it's gonna take some big adjusting.

 

Change is inevitable 'n'all that, I know!

 

 

While I'm on the subject of going away to university and keeping in touch and stuff, I've decided that I will try and keep this blog running. Hopefully not as regularly, as that will indicate some sort of a social life developing, but just as a means of letting people know what I'm doing, how I'm getting on, and hopefully telling you all how much I'm enjoying myself! Obviously, it'll be nice if people let me know what they're doing, as well - a two-way arrangement :) - but we'll just see how it works, eh?!

 

It occured to me yesterday that it might be a good idea to look through the bumph that the Maths dept at Durham sent to me a while back (what with being about to start a degree there an' all). Along with all the formal stuff about regulations and codes of practise and what have you, they've included a workbook and a list of module information. The workbook looks OK.. I haven't actually started any of it yet, but it's mostly A-Level review I think. Though having not done any Maths since 30th June, of course, it will be interesting to see whether I can remember stuff like proof by induction of geometric series, or whether, as I suspect, I'll have to go find some textbooks in the library and start all over again... KDO's notes are definitely coming with me up North...

 

And the module information was another thing again. If people were getting confused when I tried to explain to them the system for Further Maths modules, that was nothing to what they've got here. Take a PhD Mathematician to work out what combinations you can't take, forget the ones you can. I think some nice squared paper and a pretty pink highlighter pen might be in order.

 

What really caught my eye, ashamed to say, was the chance to take 'electives' - modules from another degree subject! I think I still do want to do the four year course ('Lucy ------, MMath' ), and the Maths looks really good - it's just that I might like to sample something else as well. One of the things I really liked about A-Levels was the opportunity to do a small, selected variety of subjects in depth, and it's the same principle here. The module list might be compared to a sweetie shop. My main quarter pound is of aniseed balls (the Maths), 'cos they're really yummy and I have a slightly worrying addiction to them, but an occasional eighth-weight of golden humbugs (say, Music) or sherbet lemons (Latin?) never goes amiss. I'm not entirely convinced by that analogy, but hey...

 

There are some restrictions, of course. 'Musical Techniques' looked rather attractive (basically compositional skills, taught through study of music from C16th-C19th) until I realised that it is 'tied' to the Music degree and therefore I can't take it. 'The Analysis and Perception of Music', however, I can, which is the sort of stuff that we were doing in our A2 reports and that I really really enjoyed doing! It's assessed by two 3000-word essays, which really isn't that bad (- my A2 report came to just over 6000, plus appendices and bibliography. Who said Music's for slackers?), especially when you consider that Maths involves no writing whatsoever and I don't want to come out a complete illiterate. I'm procluded from taking 'Foundations of Computer Science' by the fact that I did Maths at A-Level, though 'Introduction to Programming' looks pretty good (don't mock, Andy!). Annoyingly, the Latin courses skip from complete beginners' level to 'intermediate', which has A-Level as a prerequisite.. I don't think GCSE particularly counts, but I can see why.

 

Equally there are some modules which I am very very glad are not on my course. I may be able to choose modules in 'Mathematics Teaching' higher up my degree, but 'Mathematics for Primary Teaching I' made me shudder just to look at it. Whatever else I do in life, I do NOT plan to become a primary school teacher, and as for 'Elements of Economics'...

 

 

Time to go back to the Maths, maybe?

 

In all the distractions over going out to the theatre yesterday evening, I forgot to mention that I have found some shoes! It took going to Bromsgrove to do it, but hey, that's logic? A tiny Blunts store can find me shoes, succeed where the self-proclaimed shopping capital of Europe has failed? You know what? I'm actually past caring.

 

What are they like? Well they're Clarks, black leather.. slip on, no buckle.. narrow fit - a good bit of leather to draw 'em in at the heel, and they don't gape at the side when I bend my foot which is what you have to watch out for... got quite a nice design near the toe.. would get past Miss Cornell in a bad mood but aren't completely unfashionable either... bulky enough heel to aid posture without adding too much extra height... And they're really comfortable too! Just what I was looking for, in other words, and one of three pairs of shoes that they had in a size 9.

 

So yeah :) Shoes! *squeaks*

 

As you will already know if you read Reuben's blog, I went to 'The History Boys' last night at the REP, a play written by Alan Bennett. It was absolutely, 100% fantastic. Can't praise it highly enough. If you get the chance to go and see it, do!! (I suspect that all the tickets for the immediate future will have sold out, but the touring venues for the next few months are listed here). And if you don't get to see it on stage, they're bringing out a film in October - don't know what the direction will be like but I've got high hopes, as, well, if anyone's going to have good contacts, Alan Bennett will.

 

Anyhow, what's it about? It's set in a lad's grammar school sixth form in Sheffield in the 1980s, at the time when Oxbridge entry required an extra four months teaching after A-Levels, then interviews/results that December followed by an enforced gap six-months. These eight lads are all going for History, I think, and the snooty, authoritarian headmaster wants to see the 'best year of results ever' (where does that sound familiar?), with as many Oxbridge places to the school's name as possible. To this end, he employs Irwin, a young historian, who tries to make the boys see that regurgitating force-fed facts, while getting them As at A-Level, is not going to get them into Oxford or Cambridge. Here, they must do something a little bit different, and if that means talking about Jesus' foreskin in an essay about the Renaissance, all the better! Also teaching the boys are Hector (a nearing-retirement, slightly eccentric lover of literature, who abhors exams and thinks that the lads would be better off elsewhere than Oxbridge) and Dorothy (a cynical, frank and occasionally humourous History teacher who has got them through their History A-Levels and as the only woman in the play, is free to observe on the nature of the male species).

 

Among the lads there is Dakin (the cocky and good-looking one, who is worming his way into bed with the Headmaster's secretary), Rudge (the strongly northern, working-class lad who no-one thinks has a chance), and Posner (the young 'un of the class - coincidentally both Jewish and gay). All the lads, though, play a very active role, and there was a brilliant on-stage chemistry between them. One particularly funny scene involves Hector trying to improve their French via role-play; the lads opt to set the scene in a brothel, which is fine by Hector, provided it's a brothel where they use the conditional and subjunctive tenses. No prizes for guessing who walks in!

 

The drama unwinds and I won't spoil the story, because I really would recommend people to go see it, particularly if the film is any good. But as well as the side-splitting humour, there is earnest discussion on a whole host of topics - the nature and purpose of education, the place in society for both art and history, sexual abuse, homosexuality... Life in general, really. And because Alan Bennett has a way with words, not a single one is wasted.

 

I don't think that anyone is the entire academic or educational world emerges unscathed. Everything just rang sooo true. Wheeldon should so be sent a ticket!

 

 

Of course, a lot of the discussion about Oxbridge admissions came a leetle close to the bone. But hey, I'm going to Durham, where 'Dorothy' had her first pizza, and the weather was so bad that the fog came swirling into the cathedral!

 

*shakes head!*

 

Go see it go see it go see it!

 

I feel an explanation is needed. For the past week or so, my MSN name has been 'and remember - no bathrobes..'. People have taken a great interest - I can assure you thoroughly that I have not joined a nudist colony or even taken work as a prostitute, and there is a perfectly innocent explanation for it. Just one that I'm getting a little bored of repeating, so I'll tell people in one go here.

 

The name refers to discussions that I have been having with my parents. While we were in Southwold, we all sat down together with a cup of tea (or in my case, some rather strange herbal squash) and worked out roughly how much money I was going to need off them at university. Without publishing my family's financial information for all the Internet to see, it's probably OK to say that while that I do not qualify for any Maintenance Grant, I do qualify for some means-tested Maintenance Loan. If you're going through dealings with the SLC yourself, you'll know roughly, then, what sums of money we are talking about. Anyhow, having established that my accommodation costs alone come to more than the government is giving me, we worked out a system for parental contribution, including as an afterthought a system for holidays, as 30-weeks-in-an-academic-year leaves quite a lot of time elsewhere, whether I find a job or no.

 

So the upshot of this is that my £20-a-month pocket money has been stopped, and for the month of September, I have been given £120 allowance! Yay! This doesn't cover clothes or stuff like that that need to be bought before going away. It just means that when I go out with friends, I don't need to spend a lot of time running up to Mummy or Daddy and batting my eyelids for £20 here and there - plus for stuff like travel about, now my bus pass has gone forever :(

 

What about the bathrobes, though, I hear you cry? Weeeelllll.. Mum was asking me what I think I will need in the way of bigger stuff to take up with me, and I mentioned a towelling bathrobe, on the basis that not only will I be sharing a bathroom with about four other people, I will be sharing a bedroom for one term this year. As my bath towels don't go a long way towards covering me up properly, I didn't think it was that unreasonable a request. Mum sniffed, in the way she does when she disapproves of something on principle; Dad looked amazed, as if to say "What on earth would you want one of those for?". The conversation moved onto other things; it was when negotiating my September allowance amount that the topic returned. They were fine with me having freedom to spend it on what I wanted - after all, I'm an 'independent 18-yr-old' now - but really, they did think I should keep it within reason. On asking for an explanation of what was 'without reason', Dad glanced at Mum and replied "Well, a bathrobe, for instance..."

 

So no bathrobes. ;)

 

I think I should add at this point that I have repeated regularly that on no account am I to be spending my money on a bathrobe - to the point where even Mum realises quite how ridiculous she and Dad sound! It will be with great satisfaction that I buy a bathrobe. I will keep you informed until such a momentous occasion should occur.

 

 

On a slightly different note, £120 sounded like an awful lot of money at the start of the month. It's going rather rapidly!

 

 

I should really change my MSN name, 'cos even I'm getting bored of the double-entendre. I'll have to think of a new one first, though.

 

One of the nice things about living at home is that you have all your little comfort routines in place for when you need them.

 

I got home today after trailing round town all morning, feeling pretty depressed and very frustrated at my inabilty to find shoes - and the shops' inability to respond to a problem that a growing number of girls and women clearly have (how many times have I heard, "Oh, we get quite a lot of girls your age trying to find size 9 shoes" - so stock more, you idiots). Anyhow, this was just dragging me down - and I know I will have to do something about it (emigrate to Holland, perhaps? They're generally taller there) - but there's only so much you can take in one day, and it cheered me up considerably to be offered a quick game of Stick-Stack-Stock by Mum after lunch..

 

..which brings me on to the point of this entry. 'Cos I've realised, when I go away, I will have no-one to play Stick-Stack-Stock with, and it's one of those little pleasures that I will miss. Unless I educate the world into how to play it! So here goes..

 

 

You need more than one person to play, though any more than four or five just gets boring 'cos you wait so long for a turn. Anyhow, each person thinks of a five-letter word. No proper nouns are allowed (ie. words with a capital letter), plurals, or foreign words. As a general rule, if it's allowed in Scrabble, it's allowed here. Each person has a piece of paper - across the top he/she writes the alphabet in capitals, reasonably spaced out, and most people find it helpful to write their word in a corner. Only don't show your word to anybody else, as the aim of the game is to guess each other's words.

 

(Just to clarify at this point.. if there's three or more players, you go round in a circle. You only have to guess the word of the person after you in the circle - you do not have to guess everybody's words, as that gets ridiculously confusing by anybody's standards.)

 

So how do you guess? Well, each person takes it in turn to ask the person-whose-word-they-are-guessing another five letter word.  Completely randomly. The person-whose-word-they-are-guessing then responds with how many of the letters match up - a bit like in Mastermind, although placing doesn't count. So if Mum's word was 'HOUSE' and I asked 'ZEBRA', she would reply '1' - only one of the letters from the word I asked was in her word (the E), and it doesn't matter that it's not in the same position within the word. Then I would continue to ask her other five-letter words for the rest of the game (on my turn, obviously!), and use logic to work out what her word was. The winner is the person who guesses correctly first.

 

Sounds impossible? It's not. Here's some hints...

 

1. Do not try and do it without the aid of your alphabet across the top. Unless you are an autistic genius you will get horribly confused and the only way you will guess your opponent's word will be through sheer luck. The alphabet is where you record definite information. So using the example above, if Mum's word was 'HOUSE' and I asked 'CRYPT', none of my letters would be in her word and she would reply '0'. So I could cross out the C, the R, the P, the Y and the T because I would know that none of them could possibly be in her word. Similarly if you work out that a letter definitely is in your opponent's word, you circle it. It's also handy to keep a separate note of any letters circled, for ease of reference later.

 

2. Make sure you write down all the words you ask, along with what they scored. You will need this information as the game progresses.

 

3. Do not write down words that somebody else asks you. Or if you do 'cos you need the visual reference, keep the lists separate otherwise you will end up in a muddle.

 

4. Try asking sequences of words, to make the logical deductions easier - this is where the name of the game derives from. So say I asked Mum 'STICK'. She would reply '1', which would be of limited use because I would have no idea which one of the letters was correct. Then I could ask 'STACK' - note that only one letter has changed. Again she would reply '1' (check why if you are unsure). Now logically, this could mean one of two things. Either the correct letter could be one of S, T, C, or K (ie. it hasn't changed). Or, there could be an I and an A - in each case one letter is correct, just not the same letter. So no help there, as definite information is all you are interested in recording. But then I could ask 'STOCK' - and now Mum would reply '2'. From 'STICK' to 'STOCK' only one letter has changed, but the number of correct letters has gone up, so one can deduce that there definitely is an O in Mum's word and there definitely isn't an I. Now, if there isn't an I, there can't be an A either, by the logical process which went before, so that can be crossed off too.

 

5. You remember 'ZEBRA'? Let's say we're later in the game now, and I've discovered by asking other words that there must be an E. Now we knew that 'ZEBRA' contained one letter the same as Mum's - so if there is an E, there can't be a Z, a B, an R, or an A. Going back to previous guesses with more information can help eliminate letters.

 

6. Remember - if there isn't a U, there can't be a Q either.

 

7. Double letters in words are slightly more confusing, but still work in the same way. If someone has asked you a double-lettered word and you are unsure of how to proceed, take a separate piece of paper (again where no-one else can see it), and write both words out. Then draw lines between the two words, matching letters one to one. This will rule out any ambiguity. So keeping with the 'HOUSE' example, let's say I asked Mum 'QUEEN'. The answer would be '2' - one U and one E, as one of my Es would be surplus to requirements, if you like. Similarly, if my word was 'LLAMA' (a popular choice in our household for some reason!) and Mum asked me 'BLAME', the answer would be '3'; only three of her letters could match up to mine.

 

8. When you have three or more letters, or you have eliminated most of your alphabet, try thinking of likely words which use those letters, rather than getting obsessed by working all five letters out by logic (although sometimes that is necessary). Bear in mind the possibility of unusual words or doubles (or both, if you are playing against my brother who is a toerag and once gave me 'XEROX' to guess).

 

9. One of the rules is that you have to ask proper words. These can be plurals, unlike the word you have for other people to guess, but no asking 'JERBY' because you want to test out the J, the B and the Y all in one go!

 

10. Don't guess, don't make assumptions. It's logic!

 

 

Anyone up for a game sometime? It's good fun! :)

 

The time has come, sadly, that I need to go shoe shopping. Again.

 

Basically my black shoes ripped ages ago, and they were pretty old. My brown shoes were worn through by the end of the exam period (and let's face it, while they were appropriate for Miss Cornell-style dress code regulations, I wasn't exactly going to wear them as a university student). My pink shoes and my red shoes are fine for evenings out or special occasions when the weather's good, but neither pair is particularly suitable for everyday wear. Then I have garden sandals, flip-flops, walking boots, wellies, trainers. So on the scale of Tanzania or somewhere, I don't need more shoes. On the scale of everywhere else, I do.

 

I need smart, supportive shoes for university ceremonies and getting a job and concerts and stuff like that. Wearing pink shoes with a black dress at Veronica Barber's funeral in the summer was kinda embarrassing, but there wasn't a lot I could do about it.

 

I've already tried Stead and Simpson in Harborne. No go. I've tried Next. Ditto. I've tried tallgirls.co.uk. The one pair that looked as though it might have been suitable was way too wide when I ordered it and tried it on. So no go there, either. My options left are Clarks and Dolcis.

 

Hell, this whole rigmarole gets so boooooring.

 

 

Update: There is actually nowhere in the whole of Birmingham that I can buy shoes. = big problem. Is it any wonder that I hate my height?

 
The GCSE English coursework that I was most proud of was the monologue I wrote for Mr Hole in Y10, on one of the teacher-swap assignments (- I normally had Mr Drury). After two or three weeks of serious panicking because I had absolutely no idea what to write it on - and exciting as 'A Day In The Life Of A Traffic Warden' would have been, I couldn't help feeling that there were better subjects out there - I landed on an idea, wrote the coursework in a week's worth of notebook scribbles, and handed the thing in. (Probably the best way to write stuff, of course, but that wasn't the point when I had four major deadlines in the coming week.)
 
Anyhow, my eventual monologue was written from the point of view of the wife of a peace protester. He was about to stand trial for several related offences - breaking and entering, damage to property etc.. The monologue covered the lead up to his trial, but also gave a bit of background to the situation and eventually implied the outcome. I was damn pleased with that bit of work, but as I'm sure you'll have realised by now, this entry is not about GCSE English, but about the circumstances which led to that particular bit of coursework.
 
The peace protester is Paul Milling, his wife Rachael. Up until about eighteen months ago, they came to Cotteridge Meeting on a regular basis; they have since moved up to the Lake District as although Paul has technically been on bail, the only restriction has been that he can't leave the country. When he broke into Fairford Air Base three-and-a-half years ago, it was with the full intention of being arrested, of course. He wanted to create some publicity against the Iraq war, as well make a point in the courts - his defence being that his illegal action was in order to prevent/delay a greater one (namely Britain's involvement in the war in Iraq). This question of legality was debated in another trial for two years - sadly, it was concluded in the government's favour, though hardly a surprise when you consider who employs the judiciary - but I think there are some legal technicalities that his new defence will be formed on. He's done his homework all right.
 
That trial commences today, at Bristol Crown Court. He's being realistic when he says that he will probably go to prison for a reasonable stretch of time, considering the nature of the offence. The person on whom it's toughest is Rachael, of course. Paul can argue his case. He knew the consequences of his actions, and has always been prepared for a prison sentence. Indeed when he was kept in prison for a week just after the break-in, he threw himself into it enthusiatically, signing up for all sorts of courses on offer, and I think was almost disappointed when they released him because he was so looking forward to learning pottery! Rachael, though, just has to watch. She'll only be able to visit her husband occasionally, and she will be living by herself in a tiny village up the other end of the country, with most of her friends still in Birmingham.
 
If you're interested, Paul wrote a statement on the Cotteridge Meeting website - I've linked to it here. At the time, the Guardian published an article on the case (here), and if I find any more links in the coming days, especially with news of the outcome of the trial, I'll post them at the bottom of this entry.
 
Whether or not you agree with the Iraq war, whether or not you agree with the nature of the armed forces, whether or not you believe in active demonstration, it takes brave people to go through with something like that.
 
To quote my coursework, "I guess that is what's called 'standing up for what you believe in'.". Here's wishing him luck!

 

 

 

 

So. Southwold. As appropriate for a town where time has stood still (or is at least still playing catch-up), there isn't much to report, really. Or not since we went last, in February.

 

The good news is that the beach is open again, with tonnes of sand reputedly moved from Felixstowe so as not to diminish the tourist trade, although the Norwegian rocks that they've imported for sea defences do look a bit funny out of context. Rachel was having a field day - her upcoming Geography project for GCSE coursework is centered around coastal development, so all the work that they've been doing is of big relevance, and the camera came out on more than a few occasions! Joking aside though, it's pretty scary. We went for a walk on the marshes over by Walberswick, a mile down the coast, and you could see where large portions of the dunes have been swept away, even in the past year. September 9th is the date to watch out for - a high neap tide due, and if the wind is blowing in the wrong direction, massive breaches are once more predicted. Aside from the fact that a huge amount of land - including farming and residential areas - is threatened with serious flooding, the freshwater reserves that account for most of the marsh at that point will be completely infiltrated by salt, killing off most of the wildlife. It's predicted that Southwold, being on slightly higher land than it's surroundings, will be an island within the next half of the century. Anyone who knows that part of Suffolk will agree with me that that is a real tragedy.

 

Threats of nature aside, we had a pretty good week! The weather could probably be best described as 'sunny intervals' (though it was blazing sunshine when we woke up this morning - typical!), and the sea relatively warm and calm (the key word there being 'relatively', bearing in mind that this is the North Sea we are talking about). We didn't do anything hugely out-of-the-ordinary.. a few walks, tennis at the local courts, going round all the old shops on the high street, playing games back at the cottage in the evening. And butter buns of course! :) We were somewhat restricted, of course, by the fact that seven of us couldn't all fit into the car, but it didn't really matter. The only thing we couldn't do was go to Dunwich, and having Alice with us more than made up for it!

 

Last night we went to a film, in the newly-renovated 'Electric Picture Palace', a tiny little cinema that has been done up to try and recreate the 1950s cinema experience. No adverts at the beginning, but a 15-minute archive feature film about Diss, no less. Even for the 1950s, I could have sworn it was trying to be tongue-in-cheek ("Where is Diss?"), but apparently not! Diss, for those of you who are not aware, is a Norfolk town that makes Southwold look positively cosmopolitan. Diss was followed (sorry, couldn't resist it..) by the main film, also archive material from the 1950s - and it was the worst film I have ever seen. Nothing happened. There was no character development, little indication of setting, barely any dialogue, no story, no nothing. It was two hours of panning shots, half of which focused on this little boy's face, with no indication or explanation of why he was smiling/looking mournful/looking scared. The effects were awful - perhaps excusable for the 1950s - but also completely unnecessary, and the whole thing was accompanied by random bits of music, slowed down to an unbearable tempo, which seemed to bear no or little relation to the 'action' on screen. In short, it was shite. As Lis pointed out, Diss was exciting by comparison. If anyone offers you the chance to see 'The Long Day Closes', don't do it! Run! It is a pointless waste of two hours of your life! To close the evening, we were required to stand up for the national anthem. Mum's head stuck in front of the projector when she stood up, obscuring the audience's view of Queen Elizabeth's coronation. That was the funniest part of the evening.

 

And after that little rant, I think I will go to bed..

 

The good news is, I managed to purchase my quarter-pound of aniseed balls at the sweetie shop. If I go sparingly, my addiction will be catered for for at least another.. two or three weeks, say? Mmmmm!

 

 

Update: 'The Long Day Closes' was apparently made in 1992, and received a standing ovation at Cannes. There's no accounting for taste..