Beaver

There were two beavers in the Biesbosch National Park in the Netherlands. Now there is one. The other one managed to get itself killed by gnawing down a tree and then having the tree fall on top of him.

Splat.

Geography

I needed a German dictionary at the NLS, so I went to the dictionary section. That one is fairly systematically set up. English dictionaries first, then Romance languages (French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, Romanian), then Germanic languages (German, Dutch, everything Scandinavian, possibly including Finnish, on one big heap). The next category is interesting: ‘Eastern Europe’.

Linguistically I would oppose to having Estonian, Latvian and Lithuanian under ‘Eastern Europe’ but I can see where they’re coming from. Same thing for Georgian and Armenian. I would do it differently, but fair enough. It’s all in Europe and it’s all in the East.

But where was the Basque Country again?

And that institute is supposed to support higher learning? Tsk...

Edinburgh today

A minor challenge for Dick van Dyke?

Polonaise

Polonaise (2002) is one of the better Dutch tv movies of recent years. (IMDB link) It is set in the near future, when traffic jams are so standard that there’s this entire economy built around it. There’s traffic jam radio, a traffic jam dating service, traffic jam hairdressers, etcetera. Hold that thought.

This morning it started to snow and by 10 AM there was quite a nice layer of crispy white snow. It’s even worse back home, I just read about there being 60 traffic jams with a total length of 800 km. (Side-note: the French call 800 km of traffic jams in France ‘black Thursday’, but do consider the relative size of France and the Netherlands and decide who should not complain...)

So I switched on the Dutch radio, and they had sent several reporters to drive into the traffic jams and report on their progress.

That made me think of the movie. And laugh.

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways...

Edinburgh is ‘blessed’ with the National Library of Scotland. Words likely fail to express my feelings towards this particular institution, but I shall try anyway.

I have previously described the NLS’s attitude towards their readers along the lines of “Okay, so yes we are a library and as such we should let you touch the books, but if it’s all the same to you, we’d really rather not”. Add to this their ridiculously high prices for photocopying (10p per sheet) and their strict rules for the same – not so much copyright-related but more a matter of not allowing you to bend the spine of the book and then installing photocopiers where the glass plate starts about two inches from the edge so that it is technically impossible to photocopy anything without bending the spine – and there you have my main problems with these Lovely Helpful People.

So today I went in there to read the Geschichte der Sorben (Bautzen: Domowina, 1974–1979). I only ordered volume 1 as I really don’t care how the Sorbians fared under Erich Honecker. Of course they gave me the whole lot, all four heavy volumes of it. Why? No idea.

So I dutifully started reading, and in the back I found some maps. They were on loose sheets and they looked rather helpful: a map of the Sorbian language area around 1500 and one of the same around 1789. (Around, yes.) Time to photocopy!

Of course the bloody photocopier had to jam, as did the one next to it – because an institution like the NLS can’t afford decent equipment, I guess – so the office woman had to come and help. ‘Did you ask permission to photocopy these? No!’ (Said in a very kindergarten-teacher-telling-off-a-four-year-old tone.) The fact that it was only maps that were on loose sheets, that the books may be thirty years old but that surely not more than twenty people will have even THOUGHT of reading them in the past thirty years so that there absolutely is no danger of damaging them, and most of all, the fact that when I walked past that desk there was no one there to ask permission from, didn’t matter.

So here’s the plan:

• The building that is currently being built on Crichton Street car park for Informatics will get a new purpose: an extension of the University Library. They will be connected through an underground corridor (which will also connect all the other buildings on George Square, something that is long overdue).
• All the books from the NLS will be transferred to the University Library, where we have sensible staff and sensible people handling books sensibly. (As opposed to crazy staff being paranoid that sensible people, who are handling books sensibly, will handle books craziliy.)
• We dump the computer geeks in the now-empty NLS building on George IV Bridge.
• Former NLS staff can work at Special Collections with all the old and decaying books that do demand some kind of extra care. Books from 1975 that have never been read before do not belong in this category!

So yeah, tomorrow it’s back to that oh-so researchers-friendly library to see how my Sorbian friends were doing after the German Farmers’ Revolts.

Porridge oats

‘Allergy advice: contains oats.’

Really?

Lazy day

Okay, so I did do two loads of laundry, and the dishes, and I vacuumed my room and the hallway, but other than that: I did nothing. The plan to go out and walk up the Crags or take the lift up to the roof terrace of the museum was cancelled, as the weather wasn’t as nice as the past couple of days. Much cloudier, so less vision. Too bad.

The vacuum cleaner tore my headset to pieces, so I’m skypeless for the moment. At least we know our vacuum cleaner is effective.

I’ve started so I’ll finish

The Scottish Society for Northern Studies had their annual conference in David Hume Tower today. The theme of the day was Hermann Pálsson, the late Icelandic academic. There was an obituary by Magnús Magnússon of Mastermind fame, who disappointed me by not using his signature phrase “I’ve started so I’ll finish”. Instead he quoted from Hávamál:

Deyr fé, deyja frændur
Deyr sjálfur ið sama
En orðstír deyr aldregi
Hveim er sér góðan getur

Then a lecture by someone whose name I can’t spell on vicious women in Laxdæla saga who invoke a fight between their two lovers and make sure the fight will last until Ragnarok. After lunch a nice lecture on place names with ‘eið’ in the North Atlantic, by Doreen Waugh. I promised her a copy of my map of the Faroes to get some data from there. Then the boring AGM, for which I had to stay, because...

They had an essay contest which I entered... and won! So I got an envelope with a nice cash prize, plus the essay will be published in the next issue of Northern Studies, to appear early 2006.

In the words of L.G.: BOUNCE!

Summarizing...

Okay, so I left it that late that I wasn’t even logged on automatically anymore. Here’s a summary of the past couple of weeks; it doesn’t have much depth but I may elaborate on some things later on. Or I may not.

New Scotland-related stuff
Dance was nice. Seems like ages ago. I learned proper calling and put it to the test last Thursday. The big test is in two weeks when I’m not calling a shite-easy Montgomeries’ Rant but the bugger Midnight Oil. Pleasance booking took seven hours and everyone present agreed that the system does not make sense. C.I. forgot to go to Treasurer’s Training. This is dumb, but not a real disaster. We have a hall for the Annual, but no date or band. Yet.

University-related stuff
I am too nice. Or so L.v.B. said. In other words, I had to re-mark the EL1 Class Test. Not happy, but hey, what can you do. Tutorials otherwise are going fine, although first-year students continue to be painfully apathic. Research is good as well, I came across some really good books on language, ethnic identity and state formation. And stuff. And all the people are in Scotland!

Other stuff
F.M. had a birthday party. She had a chocolate fountain. Wow. I will be getting a book for my graduation (was within budget, mom said). I still think they should translate more good books to English, like this one. Had a conversation with M.M. yesterday about the hows and whys of the xenophobic British book market. J.B.’s birthday party tonight. T.T. is going to Z.S.’s followers’ gathering, M.G. is wondering whether to go or not.

Geez, my life is monotonous.

Useless info

The top most played songs from iTunes on my desktop as of this moment:
1. Fokofpolisiekar, Tevrede
2. Fokofpolisiekar, Hemel op die platteland
3. Krauka, Sigurd
4. Michel Fugain, Une belle histoire
5. Ramses Shaffy, Shaffycantate
6. Fokofpolisiekar, Fokofpolisiekar
7. Fomins & Kleins, Dziesma par laimi
8. NOX, Forogj világ
9. Boudewijn de Groot, De reiziger
10. Enekk, Rakiya

And on my laptop:
1. Luca Dirisio, Calma e sangue freddo
2. Sinsemilia, Tout le bonheur du monde
3. Laïs, Klaas
4. Lùnapop, Zapping
Multi-way tie for 5, so it ends here :)

Oops...

And thus went two weeks without an update. Summarizing the past weeks in a couple of lines is a hard task, but I will try anyway: ‘Work, dancing, Freshers’ Weekend, more work, more dancing, sore feet, more dancing, more work, not enough sleep, more work and more dancing.’ See, it wasn’t that difficult.

Language ecology
Have been focusing on language ecology at work the past week. Coincidentally the Linguistics Circle last week was by Mark Garner, who was talking about exactly that. It seems a good idea to study language in its context and to study the interactions between language, speaker and speech community. Whether we need to call language an organism, a species or an ecosystem, I am quite indifferent.

Also found out that ecolinguistics can mean ‘ecology of language’ but also ‘language of ecology’. Which I find extremely boring but MG thinks it’s interesting. Our language classifies oil, water, air, energy etc. as mass nouns, thereby giving the signal that they are unlimited resources. So what does Greenpeace want us to do? Make them quantifiable nouns? Tsk.

Sorbian
I finally got around to sending an e-mail to the Sorbian Institute in Cottbus. It’s been eleven years since I dropped German in high school and I was surprised how well I managed to still write in German. With a bit of help from Google to decide on the gender of nouns and the appropriateness of constructions. Now here’s hoping that Herr Professor Doktor Dietrich Scholze-Šołta and Frau Doktor Sonja Wölkowa write back.

Fire!
MG had made bean soup and haloumi for dinner. Haloumi is some weird kind of squeaky cheese that you fry. Frying occasionally sets of the fire alarm here, which really annoys us but at least we know that it works.

So here we were sitting enjoying our soup and haloumi, when suddenly two fire engines come racing into the estate. Oh shit, would they have been alarmed by our fire alarm and are we going to have to pay for a false alarm? They didn’t come last time the bloody thing went off... But no, apparently there was a real fire in Block 2. Fortunately MG is very curious so I don’t have to give into my curiosity...

Wet

I do not particularly like this weather. There comes a point where water from the air stops being refreshing. I am cold and wet. I shall take a shower. Then I’ll still be wet, but at least I’ll be warmer.

Cèilidh

T.O. is back in town and to celebrate, a group from New Scotland went to a cèilidh in Teviot yesterday evening, organized by the Hillwalking Club. As M.G. and I arrived at Teviot, G.M. and C.L. were standing outside arguing with the security people. Teviot seems to have introduced a whole set of new rules that is to make the place ‘safer’, but in effect they only make the security people more annoying. They wouldn’t let G.M. in because he didn’t have photo ID on him. G.M. managed to talk his way in in the end, though.

When finally upstairs, the cèilidh had already started. Our first dance was an interesting rendition of the Flying Scotsman, or as the band seemed to call it, Flying Scotsmince. Some nedette managed to spill N.W.’s beer over N.W.’s jacket, and the floor, and I slipped on the wet floor but amazingly got up straight away and danced on. N.W. was well pissed-off with the poor girl. Another nice experience with Teviot, as they had also tried to confiscate our stuff on Thursday because the pile was in the wrong place. Apparently.

The band was, well, interesting. They seemed to have two tempos: excruciatingly slow and ridiculously fast. Some of their reels were well suitable to do strathspeys to (quite slow strathspeys too), but their Orcadian Strip the Willow was painfully fast. J.W. and I managed to do skip-change and turn people to the music until about 4/5 through the line and were dead afterwards.

The Cumberland Square Eight was nice, although I nearly lost hold of J.W. (because T.T. had his arm right in the middle rather than at the top of her back, so there was no room for my arm anymore). The Eightsome Reel was also very good. A pity that T.T. didn’t realize that his two goals of a) doing fancy things in the Eightsome Reel and b) dancing with female numpties from the audience don’t quite mix. Fortunately M.G. jumped in at times to help the poor girl through the dance.

New Scotland people asked the band throughout to play a bit faster, but they never did. After the cèilidh, T.T. and M.G. went to talk to the band. ‘You need to realize that actual human beings are dancing to your music. You couldn’t dance to this music, this was crap,’ is a rather factual quote. The band didn’t seem to care: we were the first ones ever to complain.

I guess they only play for the RSCDS then.

Confusing

The paperbank on Gladstone Terrace has two stickers on it. The one in the top left hand corner says what you can and cannot chuck in. It says «No Yellow Pages». The one in the top right hand corner says «Recycle your Yellow Pages here!».

Right.

Save Piglet!

The British eh... ‘newspaper’ (for lack of a better word), The Sun, reports that Piglet has been banned from a council office in the Midlands, because a muslim employee complained that pig-related items were offensive to his religion. So the Winnie-the-Pooh calendar with a Piglet picture had to go. Aren’t we taking things a bit too far here, people?!

On a related note, my cousin R.B. sent me an embroidered birthday gift (couple of months late, but hey...) of Eeyore, Pooh, Piglet and Tigger. They’re all blue, so either it’s in Eeyore-vision, or it was very cold on the flight here. Thanks R.!

En deze week in deze week de week die is geweest

A ridiculously busy week in which updates have hardly been possible. So today will feature one big mega-update in which I will attempt to remember what actually happened. In retrospect, it seems like I’ve been spending quite a bit of time doing dancing stuff. In fact, I’ve been doing dancing stuff seven evenings in a row, with today the first night off!

Tuesday evening: dancing
Country basics turned out not to be as massively busy as step. I think we had about 15 new people, and maybe some 20 existing members who were there to help the newbies out. So in total that makes 35, which is more than step but not as many as we expected. N.W. did a good job standing in for B.W. Afterwards he said he thought he was rambling on a bit too much but I didn’t see any problems and I think the class went well.

Towards the end of country basics I spotted L.G., the new dem teacher, standing outside the room, so I welcomed her in and introduced her to R.K., L.F. and J.F. Her class was good, although it was clear she was sussing us out and adjusting to us. Her class wasn’t as techniquey as R.K. had liked, but she did do some technique implicitly, and for a getting-to-know-us class you can’t really plan to do much technique anyway.

Wednesday morning: D.W.
Wednesday morning I had a meeting with D.W., who was my unofficial third supervisor last year. She has arranged for me to speak at a conference in Shetland in May, so we had planned to discuss a bit about what I was going to say there. But D.W. had another surprise for me: the journal Northern Studies, which my first supervisor from last year A.K. is chief editor for, is having an essay writing competition, and D.W. had thought it was a good idea if I would enter. The deadline was 30 September (Friday) but I could get a couple of weeks’ extension because writing a prize-winning essay in two days is, well, slightly unfeasible.

Wednesday afternoon: Research group
Wednesday at three was the first meeting of the Language in Context research group. The only research group that is remotely relevant to what I’m doing, so it seems. W.B. and M.W. went as well, so our office was very well represented. It was just an introductory meeting trying to find out who could do a presentation when, and about what. I got myself appointed co-convenor, or whatever the job title is, which means that I can do mailing list maintenance and get to update the website. I’ll be doing a dry-run of the Shetland paper somewhere in the second semester.

Random observation: V.P. is pretty cute.

Wednesday evening: Dunedin
The research group and a wee chat with W.B. and M.W. afterwards took a bit longer than anticipated, and there was no time for dinner to be able to make it to J.H.’s technique class at Dunedin. I wasn’t particularly interested in the class anyway: New Scotland is for classes, Dunedin is for social dancing. That seems like a good division. So the social dancing was pretty good. I don’t remember all the dances or all the partners. I know we did Midnight oil (with the girl I think is M.G., but I thought M.G. was in Cork so that doesn’t really add up...) and Irish rover. I thought I did Irish rover with C.B. and it was a good dance that I wanted to have put on the Beginners’ Dance program – but checking the Green Book it wasn’t the Irish rover I did with C.B.

Pub with the Dunedin crowd was nice. Some interesting gossip from D. & I.L., but mainly I was doing New Scotland gossip with the other NS’ers. Got a lift home from J.S., which was nice.

Thursday day: work
I started writing my potentially prize-winning essay on Thursday, alternating with preparing for an EL1 lecture on English phonology. How am I going to teach English phonology if I have no idea what I’m doing? The lecture was rather comprehensible though, which was a good thing for my confidence.

Thursday evening: ISC and dancing
The weekly tea and coffee afternoons at the ISC still need a bit of getting used to. I just don’t know many people there yet. Some of them seem to know me though, which is kind of weird. I felt a bit lost anyway, but I had to stay to the end cause I was going to beginners’ highland which is in the Chaplaincy so there would be no point in going back home from George Square campus and back again.

Highland was good. I felt a bit lost there as well. It was a beginners class but I kind of knew the stuff already from having done it in country dances and at Bob dems and the like, so I was drifting somewhere in the middle. I’m sure S.A. is going to make it more difficult soon and I will feel like a true beginner.

Beginners’ country was rather packed. I did help a bit where needed but I also took a rest after the highland cause especially my toes did not really want to co-operate anymore. I called the Dunedin Festival Dance at Social, which was semi-disastrous but everyone seemed to get through it in the end. Wild geese is actually quite fun if you do it socially instead of for a dem.

Friday day: lecture and tutorial
The Friday lecture was even easier than the Thursday one. We (or: they?) slowly seem to be going on from the ‘how your speech organs work’ to ‘how language works’ which I find infinitely more interesting. I saw M.O. just before the class. She is now a fresher doing EL1, with a matric number starting with 93... She’s in L.C.’s tutorial who finds her an interesting person...

My tutorial got off to a slow start but there were a couple of keenies so we got the discussion going and we only just managed to get everything done in time. Now I know what a tutorial is like I can go to next week’s a bit better prepared. Observations from the tutorial: people seem to find it normal that someone called Monica goes by the name of Siobhan; and April needs to make more work of the concept of the language having primacy over nonsensical English spelling rules.

Friday evening: committee meeting
Read the minutes which will appear here at some point... R.K. and A.I.’s way of dealing with last week events shows that they really did not understand what the problem was. T.T. seemed very pissed off at this, but I think we’re just letting the matter rest. The anticipated call from H.S., enquiring whether we still needed her, came earlier than expected. And we did say we needed her.

We will be clearing out the McEwan Hall cupboard on Wednesday afternoon. Then we will discover whether New Scotland still has that half mile of clingfilm.

A productive day

A very productive day today. I went to an introduction meeting for the new tutors in English Language and got very freaked out. Not having ever been a tutee, I don’t know what to expect in a tutorial – and then the first thing they want me to discuss is phonetics which I consider my weak point. Fortunately W.B., who has years of teaching experience with sixth-formers, took me through it and it doesn’t seem too bad now. My first tutorial is on Friday afternoon. Bring ’em on!

Office
I also moved into my office today. There’s four of us sharing it, and then there’s four other rooms with a varying number of people in it, so it’s quite busy in the building. It’s a top floor flat and through the small window you can look out over the city. I have no idea which direction we’re facing, but I think I could see Arthur’s Seat. Which doesn’t make sense cause the side Arthur’s Seat is on should be solid brick wall. I can’t figure it out cause it’s a spiral staircase and I have no idea how many times I’ve gone round by the time I arrive at the top floor; and then I am not exactly sure of the flat layout.

We were issued with computers. Not the fantastic shiny new MiniMacs that they have in the university library now – no, old massive coal-driven PCs. The best thing of all is that they didn’t seem to come with a monitor. Once they do, it’ll probably be equally massive CRT screens. Oh well, you can’t have it all I suppose, and I have a working computer at home anyway. Plus I tend to hand-write notes, so what do I really need a computer at the office for?

Work
Work continues on the same note as the previous days. Stuff on language shift, stuff on early French language policies. What I’ve read today echoes the stuff I read earlier. To me that’s a sign that I’m on the right way. There’s some more books that I have to take out still, but I think by the end of the week I should be able to make a nice overview and see where I’ll be going from there.

Dem class
Tonight is Bob’s class and dem class. With Bob being away in Firbush, N.W. is taking the class, so it’s technically not Bob’s class. When N.W. agreed to doing it, he said “It’ll be fun”, and I think it will be. Will N.W. be able to challenge F.C.’s number of attendees tonight? The publicity drive they did on Thursday seems to have worked so far...

Dem class will have a new teacher, L.G. She replaces L.G., just to make things nice and clear. L.G. (the new one) is from the RSCDS Dunfermline, and apparently she’s heard about the New Scotland rendition of Mairi’s Wedding. I’m sure we can reassure her that we know the difference between demming poshly and dancing for sheer fun. I thought the version we did at the IALS dem last Thursday was RSCDS-approved, but apparently one is supposed to pass left shoulder in the Mairi’s Wedding reels. I suppose RSCDS dancers go a wee bit slower than we do so they don’t fly out of the turn...

At dem class I will also need to ask J.G. if he and his band can play for the two cèilidhs this term that A.K. couldn’t play for. I hope he’s available; otherwise I’ll need to find out the telephone numbers for some of the other bands on our list.

Boring
According to a test I did at LiveJournal, my LiveJournal is annoying because I’m boring. I dont’t have a LiveJournal, but I am thinking this goes for my Blogger blog as well. It just looks better.

Where there’s smoke...

Last Saturday the meat got burnt without warning me, today the fire alarm went off because I was making soup and M.G. had taken a shower and there was just a wee bit of steam hanging around in the corridor. That thing needs to get its priorities right. Also, I have no idea how to actually stop a fire alarm, except from yanking out the battery and putting it back some time later in the hope it won’t go off again. Apparently you need to wave a tea towel underneath it. I think fire alarms should come with a snooze button.

Work
So many books taken out, but they all seem to be about twentieth-century case studies in the Americas, Asia or Australia. Please give me some solid theory or historical European stuff! An article (well, half a book) by Fishman was useful, it questions some general presuppositions and also has a couple of useful contrasts that you want to consider if you’re doing comparative case studies.

Also read a bit on the history of language policies in France. It seems that minority languages were quite well-off during the oppressive Ancien Régime, while the real francification only started after the French Revolution, because everyone had to understand the message of liberty. You can draw nice parallels to the russification efforts in the Soviet Union, and perhaps to the present de facto American cultural imperialism. It’s ironic how despite all the talk about liberty, linguistic minorities get their rights and identities taken away from them.

Seems like Fishman’s polemics are rubbing off then...

Prosody
Staying in France, I randomly downl... acquired a French radio comedy sketch which is supposedly an interview with singer Francis Cabrel. J.M. introduced me to Cabrel last year, and the one CD that she gave me has been coming by in iTunes on a regular basis. There is something about Cabrel that makes him different from all the other French stuff I have. Something funky, but I could never put my finger on it.

Until this radio sketch. The comedians had Cabrel misplacing word stress on pretty much every word: the themes of his new album were the same as ever, ‘les chemains pleins de cailloux au fond de la rivière’ but ‘la différence est qu’il est nouveau’. Listening to his songs again, I realize it must be that what makes it so funky.

Too bad the comedians killed themselves laughing during the sketch.

Step, shuffle, hop, tap tap
I went to step class tonight. I had done step once before on Freshers’ Weekend ’04, but I never got the hang of the rhythm. But it was worth another try; and M.G. and C.A. were going as well so I wouldn’t look completely stupid. Much to our suprise though, there were about twenty people at step class. What?! Step is supposed to have at best five people there, including the teacher. Oh well. I got the rhythm of the step, shuffle, hop, tap tap bit now – and I might even return next week.

Going to the Pleasance Bar after step class is a bad idea. Monday night is pub quiz night. I did find out how Teviot is paying for lowering coke prices from 90p to 85p: the Pleasance have upped theirs from £1.10 to £1.20. Leeches.

Wind
For much of the day it was very windy. Wheely bins travelling independently across the street-type windy. This goes arm in arm with a slight drizzle and quite comfortable temperatures so that it really doesn’t feel that bad. Of course it shouldn’t start pouring with rain when I’m on my way back from the shops with only 50 meters to go.

Our dryer has decided that after four hours of drying, laundry should preferably wetter than when you put it in. M.G. and I disagree but we haven’t been able to convince the dryer yet. With today’s weather, this is quite unfortunate.

Laziness

An article in the Vrij Nederland that I bought to read on the flight back to Edinburgh earlier this month, complains about how people nowadays seem to have forgotten how to be lazy. Holidays have become thrill-seeking expeditions and of course we need to take our mobiles to keep in touch with our work. Well, the author of that article can be proud of me: I did close to nothing today. Once I start writing it down it’ll seem like quite a bit, but it feels like a very lazy day.

Reading
The case studies in Fishman’s Reversing language shift were pretty useless, so more than some superficial skimming I didn’t have to do. This saved time. I have also decided that the shift away from Channel Island French is too late to be one of my case studies. It’s a pity, since no one has every heard of Channel Island French and therefore it is inherently cool, but I have enough possible case studies in France and Britain as it is so I’m not too bothered. I also went to the library to take out more books. I may need to start using that office I’ve been allocated cause there isn’t much room for more books in my room.

Single-itis
A related thought as I walked out of the library: why do all the cute ones smoke?

Measurements
According to a 2000 stocktake, New Scotland has 800 meters of clingfilm in storage. What they planned to do with it when they purchased it, I have no idea, and I’m quite curious as to how much is left five years later. To put things in perspective, this is half a mile of clingfilm. Which is four furlongs. Some odd people measure speed in furlongs per fortnight.

A.F. and I also worked out that there are 546 and 7/8 mites to a drachm. The decimal system may make a lot more sense – at least the interdependency between different units –, but imperial measurements definitely are more fun.

In incipio erat...

After ongoing gentle pressure from various friends, I have finally succumbed and I, too, am now a blogger. Although all those friends invariable keep LiveJournals, I decided that I didn’t quite like the way that one looked and having stumbled upon this blog thingy, I liked it better so here goes. I never actually managed to keep a journal going for more than, well, three days or so in the past, but that was before the age of broadband internet and dark autumn evenings with no television.

Rage
I was furious with rage with R.K. for just about exactly 48 hours. I have now calmed down to the level of disagreement. I can see the reasons why Thursday night went the way it went — although I can also think of reasons why it could have gone differently. But that is not the point. The point is to do with fake arguments, conveyance of messages and a fundamental difference in opinion on leadership styles. Ultimately this will need to be discussed. If it keeps on simmering, much nastiness may come of it. [More on simmering and nastiness below.]

Kilt
A.I. called me from the kilt shop. Funny how he was all formal, but I guess he had to be seeing as he was in function. My kilt was ready for collection. Much to my surprise, cause A.I. had said before that if I was lucky, I might just get it before Freshers’ Weekend. Which is still three weeks away. Anyway, it fits quite nicely — much better than the old one — and although it is quite a bit heavier you don’t feel that when you wear it. A Hector Russell kiltpin and tartan flashes were complimentary, so that was an expense I didn't have to make.

Vicky League
E-mailed J.F. to sign up for tomorrow’s Vicky League dem — I couldn’t remember whether I’d already signed up for it. These prove to be even more unchallenging this year than last year, due to the cancelling of all the country dance slots. No messing up dead-easy dances like Highland Rambler anymore, and ending up with J.F. in the middle of a 5-man circle doing random highland stuff — the Vicky League people don’t know what they’re missing.

Initially, J.F. had wanted to do Vicky Leagues in black t-shirts. Yay! But they insisted on pretend-authentic Scottish monkeywear. Boo! By the way, having just taken a bath and stood in front of a mirror, I am still not against N.M.’s idea for a costume. The kilt sits high enough to mask the absence of a six-pack, and the rest of me is quite decently formed. I think we would look quite good! [A.F. used the word «snazzy» today. Only A.F. can say silly words like that and get away with it.]

Book
Am reading Joshua Fishman’s Reversing language shift (1991). I had to trek to the Moray House Library to get it, and I’m as yet unsure as to whether it was worth it. It is very polemic and deals with language shift only from the viewpoint of how to counteract it. I hope the second part of the book with case studies [including some that are on my list of possibles] will be a bit more informative.

Simmering nastiness
With M.G. off to Glasgow for a C.H.E. event, I thought I would have a chance to eat food with a bit more spice. I’ve made this dish a gazillion times, and it’s very simple. Dice the meat, fry it, add water and some pasty stuff, stir, bring to the boil and let simmer for an hour and a half or so.

Which is why I could easily talk to A.F. on Skype for 45 minutes. But I had to interrupt that conversation because of a stench coming from the kitchen. That was the meat which had boiled dry in well under an hour. Well, maybe just an hour, as my computer clock and the kitchen clock are about ten minutes apart, but still it had no right to go bad on me! I tried to salvage the situation by picking out the really black bits and soothing the rest with yoghurt, but it proved hardly edible so I had to chuck it away and survive on just the celery. Good thing I like celery.

Single-itis
To finish off, then, I seem to be suffering from single-itis again. That happens every now and then and I’d really rather crawl away on the corner of my bed. Am trying to figure out what brought it on this time. It may have to do with the repercussions of Thursday night’s fiasco; or the fact that I saw D.J. again yesterday [from a distance]; or the fact that T.T. used the b-word with M.G.

iTunes is playing Fokofpolisiekar’s Vernietig jouself. I think I rather crawl into the corner of my bed instead.