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.