Why hello,
I'm rather impressed that I have managed to write a post at least once a week so far. So what have I been up to? A lot, and yet not a lot. It has seemed to go in blur and I can't really remember it. Also, Stephen decided he would facebook chat to me and crash Blogger, so this is the second time of writing it.
This week has been a week of firsts. I got an essay back, and I had got a first (get it?), so I'm chuffed about that. Also I had to talk to the emergency operators for the first time ever at a first-aid duty at Uni. It was quite tricky especially as a rugby guy ran into me whilst I was taking the call. Also at that duty, I had to treat someone on my own and nearly froze to death as I had to give up my padded hi-vis jacket to keep a patient warm.
Yesterday I also had a Harry Potter party, after the eventful first-aid duty. It was quite cool, with two Ginny Weasleys, Luna Lovegood, Professor Trelawny, Snape and Lupin (that was me). The guests were allocated houses and had to take OWLs, including a potions practical.
I'm now about to watch the Wild Thornberrys Movies.
Thursday, 4 December 2008
Monday, 24 November 2008
Essays and Amoxicillin
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.
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.
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!
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