Today I have had a sort of bum day. I've tired myself out with doing too much and having a really rubbishy cough. So I missed all my seminars today and went to the doctors, and they gave me amoxicillin (500mg- one capsule to be taken 3 times a day for a week). So hopefully I will get better. I went to the St John's Ambulance weekly training session at the University and handed in my 4000 word essay, which were the only productive things to come out of today. Oh, except washing my underwear- I was down to my last pair.
So hopefully the red and orange capsules of magic will make me all better. I'm now just going to watch youtube videos and laze around.
Hopefully I'll post an interesting, thought provoking, insightful entry soon. My brother is way up on that score at the moment.
Monday, 24 November 2008
Saturday, 22 November 2008
Breathe
Phew! With only 26 hours until this week's end I nearly failed my target before I had begun. I'd also like to point out that I almost wrote I will write a blog every week until 2010, but realised my typo and decided it too ambitious given my track record.
I have just returned from a Creative Writing and Art exhibition, of which I helped organise, set up and host. I also submitted three pieces of poetry. My favourite one, which I wrote today is here.
Bibliotheca
Between the lines of words on pages
Captured between the leaves
That brown with age yet do not drop
Except into obscurity,
Are lives and faces Giuseppe Arcimboldo
And Melvil Dewey caught,
Made of paper and ribbons.
All are equal there, pressed and penned-
Bataille, Caroll, and Proust-
By bibliothecal desires, until a hand
Reaches up and is pulled in,
And in a sudden plume of dust
The Word becomes flesh.
So it has been a very busy week, I wrote a 4000 word essay, organised this exhibition, wrote three poems and I still have a lot of work to do.
I nearly had a disaster earlier. I was ironing my synthetic pin-striped trousers, and went to turn the iron down, but I turned it up instead. Yes, they got ruined. But I had a spare pair.
But I am tired, which leads to the logical response of sleep. (S-->R and all that)
Thomas
I have just returned from a Creative Writing and Art exhibition, of which I helped organise, set up and host. I also submitted three pieces of poetry. My favourite one, which I wrote today is here.
Bibliotheca
Between the lines of words on pages
Captured between the leaves
That brown with age yet do not drop
Except into obscurity,
Are lives and faces Giuseppe Arcimboldo
And Melvil Dewey caught,
Made of paper and ribbons.
All are equal there, pressed and penned-
Bataille, Caroll, and Proust-
By bibliothecal desires, until a hand
Reaches up and is pulled in,
And in a sudden plume of dust
The Word becomes flesh.
So it has been a very busy week, I wrote a 4000 word essay, organised this exhibition, wrote three poems and I still have a lot of work to do.
I nearly had a disaster earlier. I was ironing my synthetic pin-striped trousers, and went to turn the iron down, but I turned it up instead. Yes, they got ruined. But I had a spare pair.
But I am tired, which leads to the logical response of sleep. (S-->R and all that)
Thomas
Thursday, 13 November 2008
Trains and Tribulations
Once again I have not been good at updating this confounded blog. I have resolved to do at least one a week until 2009. So here, I hope, is to the first of many.
On Tuesday I had to survive the six-hour journey to Aberystwyth from Southampton. It may not seem tough, but it was. Every four stops or so, until Birmingham Newstreet, I had to listen to the less than enthusiastic announcement of ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, the shop is open. We serve a range of hot drinks: tea, coffee, cappuccino coffee, Americano coffee, mocha coffee, late coffee, decaf coffee, and hot chocolate; as well as soft drinks and alcoholic drinks; hot bacon rolls; and snacks and sandwiches. I look forward to serving you.’ By some child-catcher after twenty years on cigarettes and Bourbon, the adults are lulled by—not cherry pie and lollipops—the promise of caffeine to keep us going through the many hardships endured while sitting on a train. If the coffee (crap coffee, crap and froth coffee, crap and froth and chocolate sprinkles coffee) wasn’t enough, then the booze will take the edge off. Heaven knows, then, as to why they sell decaf coffee.
Before anyone wishes to commence a train journey they should go through a stringent health check to see whether they’re up to it. First you have the frotteur, who is inevitably a man wearing a suit, blue shirt and glasses and is standing next to where you are sitting. He lets others pass him by leaning against you and rubbing his groin against your shoulder. Then there is the excessive-elbow-man, again wearing a suit, blue shirt and glasses, but this time of a rather larger build. You have been quite comfortably sitting in the window seat until this man throws his large bulk against you and appropriates the armrest from you. He then proceeds to read a newspaper (usually a Daily Mail, anyone who reads a Daily Mail on the train is a likely offender), ruffling it in your face and digging his elbows into your side. There are a multitude of train related sins and trials the everyday traveller has to put up with. From the loud chatty women, the annoying ring-tone that just keeps ringing, and the pretentious reader (someone was reading Foucault on my train. Mind you, I was reading Virginia Woolf), to name a few more. And, of course, there are a lot of men wearing suits, blue shirts and glasses.
On Tuesday I had to survive the six-hour journey to Aberystwyth from Southampton. It may not seem tough, but it was. Every four stops or so, until Birmingham Newstreet, I had to listen to the less than enthusiastic announcement of ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, the shop is open. We serve a range of hot drinks: tea, coffee, cappuccino coffee, Americano coffee, mocha coffee, late coffee, decaf coffee, and hot chocolate; as well as soft drinks and alcoholic drinks; hot bacon rolls; and snacks and sandwiches. I look forward to serving you.’ By some child-catcher after twenty years on cigarettes and Bourbon, the adults are lulled by—not cherry pie and lollipops—the promise of caffeine to keep us going through the many hardships endured while sitting on a train. If the coffee (crap coffee, crap and froth coffee, crap and froth and chocolate sprinkles coffee) wasn’t enough, then the booze will take the edge off. Heaven knows, then, as to why they sell decaf coffee.
Before anyone wishes to commence a train journey they should go through a stringent health check to see whether they’re up to it. First you have the frotteur, who is inevitably a man wearing a suit, blue shirt and glasses and is standing next to where you are sitting. He lets others pass him by leaning against you and rubbing his groin against your shoulder. Then there is the excessive-elbow-man, again wearing a suit, blue shirt and glasses, but this time of a rather larger build. You have been quite comfortably sitting in the window seat until this man throws his large bulk against you and appropriates the armrest from you. He then proceeds to read a newspaper (usually a Daily Mail, anyone who reads a Daily Mail on the train is a likely offender), ruffling it in your face and digging his elbows into your side. There are a multitude of train related sins and trials the everyday traveller has to put up with. From the loud chatty women, the annoying ring-tone that just keeps ringing, and the pretentious reader (someone was reading Foucault on my train. Mind you, I was reading Virginia Woolf), to name a few more. And, of course, there are a lot of men wearing suits, blue shirts and glasses.
Thursday, 9 October 2008
Whistle-stop tour
Woah! A blog entry has been long, long over due. It has been over a year since I last wrote an entry. Between then I have turned twenty, completed the whole of my second year of university and ridden on a tandem. Yes, I rode on a tandem. So, a brief overview of the heights and lows that was my second year of university is needed; I shall try and do them in chronological order.
My brother and parents went to Paris with my grandparents. It was apparently a logistical nightmare, but they seemed to enjoy it. I, however, was still in Aberystwyth (something that seemed to be a theme for the following year). This is a high for me, however; as it was a miracle that it actually went to plan, especially in light of what was to happen. My grandmother broke her hip just before Christmas, and made a rather good recovery. However, less than a week after being sent home from hospital she fell over again. This recovery was not quite as good as the last, and it took months for her to get back to her old self. Also around Christmas I went to Paris to visit Stephen (again), with my friend Kaylee. It was good, however, it must be said, I was a grumpy git. In February a celebrated my 20th birthday, and I cooked a four course meal, with six dishes: each of which containing chocolate. In the Easter holiday I went to Nottingham on a community mission type thing with my church, and then went to Amsterdam with my parents. I moved house, went back to Southampton, and then broke my elbow. Went camping where it was very muddy, then returned to university.
Phew! Sorry for a whistle-stop tour of my second year of university, and hopefully I will post more.
Until 2027, no doubt,
Bye!
My brother and parents went to Paris with my grandparents. It was apparently a logistical nightmare, but they seemed to enjoy it. I, however, was still in Aberystwyth (something that seemed to be a theme for the following year). This is a high for me, however; as it was a miracle that it actually went to plan, especially in light of what was to happen. My grandmother broke her hip just before Christmas, and made a rather good recovery. However, less than a week after being sent home from hospital she fell over again. This recovery was not quite as good as the last, and it took months for her to get back to her old self. Also around Christmas I went to Paris to visit Stephen (again), with my friend Kaylee. It was good, however, it must be said, I was a grumpy git. In February a celebrated my 20th birthday, and I cooked a four course meal, with six dishes: each of which containing chocolate. In the Easter holiday I went to Nottingham on a community mission type thing with my church, and then went to Amsterdam with my parents. I moved house, went back to Southampton, and then broke my elbow. Went camping where it was very muddy, then returned to university.
Phew! Sorry for a whistle-stop tour of my second year of university, and hopefully I will post more.
Until 2027, no doubt,
Bye!
Tuesday, 21 August 2007
Surviving...just
I am at present sitting in my brother’s Paris flat with some strange people from the reception giving it a check before he leaves. Unfortunately for me I cannot understand what they are saying, but from their tone of voice I assume they are diagnosing someone with a terminal illness (“It is very sad” the man says, “He only has five months left.” “Oui, the parasite will chew through his brain, and then his face will finally implode on itself,” replied the other receptionist.). But for now I will go back to where I left off last time, and explain how it happened for me to be in Paris, and the hullaballuhas that led to this.
The Marchwood Village fete was very entertaining, despite the fact that someone said something very derogatory about my state of mind, owing to my attire. There are photos of me dressed up as a monk on facebook, so if you are my friend on there you may view them and then laugh at the hilarity of it all. When we dressed the shop for the Harry Potter day, we also dressed up as the Weasley twins; which was equally embarrassing, though the small children seemed to find us amusing. Evidence of this may be found also on facebook.
I have had some temporary jobs, which has mostly been packing the newspaper supplements into the Hampshire Chronicle and the Basingstoke Gazette. It isn’t bad, but it is mind-numbing and tiring, when standing up for six hours. It was not as bad as the washing up I had top do at the Dibden Golf-course. The other people there may have assumed I was a mute, but anyone who knows me well could easily explode that theory.
My parents went away for two weeks leaving the house to us. We did not have any wild parties that were posted on MySpace, causing the all the delinquent youth of the surrounding country to descend on our small New-Forest cottage. We did have some friends round and we also had a picnic. The picnic was a very pleasant, I baked some scones (which one irksome and persistent pony seemed to enjoy).
Then we went camping at Soul Survivor (a youth Christian camp). The weather was wet, the ground was muddy and the wind was cold, but I really enjoyed it. My spiritual life was definitely deepened and it its well worth going to (this year was my fifth time of going).
I will finish the journey to Paris when (and if) my brother stops nagging me. He was saying that I have been hogging the computer, while I distinctly remember cleaning his toilet while he was on MSN. Mmmm… someone’s story doesn’t add up. But I am a forgiving brother, which is lucky for him, seeing as I’m cooking his dinner tonight.
The Marchwood Village fete was very entertaining, despite the fact that someone said something very derogatory about my state of mind, owing to my attire. There are photos of me dressed up as a monk on facebook, so if you are my friend on there you may view them and then laugh at the hilarity of it all. When we dressed the shop for the Harry Potter day, we also dressed up as the Weasley twins; which was equally embarrassing, though the small children seemed to find us amusing. Evidence of this may be found also on facebook.
I have had some temporary jobs, which has mostly been packing the newspaper supplements into the Hampshire Chronicle and the Basingstoke Gazette. It isn’t bad, but it is mind-numbing and tiring, when standing up for six hours. It was not as bad as the washing up I had top do at the Dibden Golf-course. The other people there may have assumed I was a mute, but anyone who knows me well could easily explode that theory.
My parents went away for two weeks leaving the house to us. We did not have any wild parties that were posted on MySpace, causing the all the delinquent youth of the surrounding country to descend on our small New-Forest cottage. We did have some friends round and we also had a picnic. The picnic was a very pleasant, I baked some scones (which one irksome and persistent pony seemed to enjoy).
Then we went camping at Soul Survivor (a youth Christian camp). The weather was wet, the ground was muddy and the wind was cold, but I really enjoyed it. My spiritual life was definitely deepened and it its well worth going to (this year was my fifth time of going).
I will finish the journey to Paris when (and if) my brother stops nagging me. He was saying that I have been hogging the computer, while I distinctly remember cleaning his toilet while he was on MSN. Mmmm… someone’s story doesn’t add up. But I am a forgiving brother, which is lucky for him, seeing as I’m cooking his dinner tonight.
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