Notting Hill is on. Oops. It’s 11:10 and it’s just started. Which means I will probably go to bed and snooze with it on in the background.

The reason for this is that Rob has gone away to Devon for three days to camp, learn to surf and surf. I think at least one and a half of these will be done. I hope he does get the hang of it because that will make him happy.

In the mean time I’m going to do lots of marking, have a picnic lunch with friends, maybe have dinner with my cousin, do two quite long days at work, run an advanced presentation skills course and play with the cat. I may also do washing up and laundry, but to be honest I don’t hold up much hope for too much of that.

And in other news, well there really hasn’t been too much going on. Or rather there has been too much going on since the last time I blogged to recount it here.

In brief:
a) I’ve got a thesis to write
b) I don’t have to have it written until February, but I want to have it written before that if at all possible, but at least we won’t go hungry in October as I will continue to be paid (possibly I am the only person to benefit from the falling value of the pound?).
c) We bought a new tent which appears lovely. Hopefully Rob is going to put it up and sleep in it in Devon.
d) I’m organising a conference because otherwise it wouldn’t get organised. I think I’m enjoying doing this more than I’m letting on.
e) I’m making lots of stuffed hearts which I’m hopefully going to sell at an arts & crafts & gifts fair in June. If it works then I’ll make more, and if not then I’ll give the ones I’ve made away. They really are quite fun to make.
f) We went on holiday to Wales to stay in the cottage with the peacocks, doves and the red kites. Lou and Owen came too and it was splendid.

And that is really it.

Now I’m going to bed with Notting Hill and the cat. Bye.

Today is my Mummy’s birthday.

Happy Birthday Mummy!

Jo at Chocolate and Other Things has set the task for Fun Monday this week.

She asked [since March 2nd is her Mum and her Mum's Mum's birthday]…

For this week’s Fun Monday, tell me something fun about your mother and/or her mother. What fun, weird, laughable memories do you have of your Mom or your Grandma?

I guess the first thing that springs to my mind is that I really quite rarely call my mum “Mum” [I have never called her Mom either!].  For as long as I can remember she’s been Muzzi, or Muzz.  I can’t remember the origin of this, except for the fact that Muzzy is a green monster that was used in my primary school (age 8ish) French club.  I’m not sure how Muzzy ended up as what my brother and I call our mother, she definitely isn’t a big green monster.  Maybe she can shed some light on it.  Anyway, Muzzi it has stayed.

Rob says I have all sorts of similarities with my Mum, probably the most obvious being the words and phrases we use.  And having written that I can’t think of any, but he notices things that I say that my Mum does.  I think that’s quite funny.  Other people say that I look like my Mum… I’m not so sure.  You could definitely see the resemblance between my Mum and my Granny (and my Auntie) but I’m not certain I see it between me and Mum.  But perhaps I’m not one to tell!  You can certainly see the similarities from photos of us both as children [I feel that it should be noted that my picture ~20 years ago, mum's ~45 years ago]

My family has, for quite a long time (nearly 20 years I expect), been involved in the village amateur theatre company, but for nearly 15 of those years my Mum fairly flatly refused to be on stage.  She was very happy to sell programmes, take photos, be the prompt, help backstage, but there wasn’t any chance she would get on stage.

Finally the lure of the boards became too strong and she was persuaded to dress up as a singing nun (previously she had appeared as the back end of a pantomime donkey, but I think “appeared” may be too strong a word).  She’s the one in the middle with her eyes closed (my brother is looking evil over her shoulder).  I wasn’t in this show but it was great to watch!  Robin Hood and the Singing Nun, written by my father and with an unashamed plug for his business can be found online on his pastel coloured website where, should you desire, you can purchase a copy for your own drama group to perform.  You should probably be familiar with the English tradition of Pantomime before you get put off by Kevin (on the left) in “disguise” as a nun.

I chat on MSN messenger to my Mum most days, and actually our relationship has significantly improved since I’ve moved out (probably it does for most?).  I miss it when we haven’t been able to chat during the day, it’s great to be able to pass on news and ask opinions/advice so easily!

I’ll leave you with a photo of my family, where my brother and I are probably about six and four, which puts this at 1990 ish.  In the photo is my Dad (the tall one at the back), his parents (my paternal Grandma with the white hair and my Granddad on the back left).  My maternal Granny is standing behind my brother and me (blue blouse) and my Mum is looking the wrong way on the right (white blouse).  I can only assume that my maternal Grandpa is taking the photo!  This was one of only a very few occasions that my Granny and Grandpa visited our family at home, and, I think, the only time everyone was there together.  :)

Now head back to Jo’s blog to check out some of the other Fun Monday participants.  Thanks for visiting.

I don’t have anything to blog about really. Things are pottering on as usual in an uninspiring and unamusing way!

I have decided what to do for Rob’s surprise birthday treat, but since it’s a surprise, I can’t tell you about it here. You’ll have to wait until after the 16th March (yes, I know I’m thinking ahead, but sometimes these things take planning).

AOJ set this week’s Fun Monday assignment and as I’ve been out of the loop of Fun Mondays recently I thought I’d get back in on it with her assignment:

So for Fun Monday on 2nd February, firstly tell me what book you are reading now. What’s it about? Are you enjoying it and why? If not, why not? And secondly, if you were to be stranded on a desert island, what one book would you take with you.

Part the first… 

I usually have quite a few books on the go, some that I read on the train (tend to be small-ish and easy reads) and sometimes more meaty tomes (in either content or weight), but at the moment I’ve just got one on the go. It’s pretty thought provoking and I’m really enjoying it, but at the same time it’s very readable and so I can dip in to it in my 15 minute train ride twice a day.

And the book? It’s called “The Shack” and is about rebuilding the relationship that a man who has lost a child in a horrible way ha s with God. It’s a fiction book but it is challenging my perspectives on God and the  trinity and is being a thoroughly good read. I’ve got a number of people that I’m thinking of passing it on to when I’ve finished.

Part the second…

Oh gosh, goodness knows!  I would totally struggle to just pick one book to take with me!  Can I stretch it?

I think this may count as it’s technically one physical book, although it’s actually three…

My choice is the City Watch Omnibus which contains “Guards Guards”, “Men at Arms” and “Feet of Clay” by Terry Pratchett.

Pratchett is, by far and away, my favourite author.  I can read and re-read his books over and over and get new things from them each time.  They have so many layers of jokes and well crafted stories.  Plus, I haven’t read these three recently and so it would be nice to have some time to relax on the sand and read in comfort without feeling guilty about things I’m supposed to be doing!

Thanks for stopping by my Fun Monday, now please go and check out the other participants over at AOJ’s blog.

Dear Blog Readers,

If you have the time (and you wouldn’t think of yourself as having a particularly scientific background) would you please consider filling in this survey.

It is a few questions about “Public Engagement with Science”, which is a bit of a hot topic at the moment.

Thanks,

Sarah

P.S. Brighton Science Festival is in a few weeks and it looks fab!

I think this qualifies for a Half Naked Thursday, given that it was on New Year’s Day.

Poor git. But heheheheee. Ouch.

From the BBC website

This weekend I did something that stretched my comfort zone.  Uncomfortable at the time, but it felt worthwhile and good afterwards.

When was the last time you stretched yours?

I am not “average”.

I am me.

I am not a binge drinking, party going, cigarette smoking, 24 year old.

So when I get on the train at the station opposite my university, dear ladies who were sitting opposite me yesterday, don’t look down your noses at me.  I don’t judge you, why do you judge me?

I may have my coat done up and my hat on and I may be listening to my iPod, but what does that make me?  A commuter in the cold.  Not a yob, not a “typical student” (what is that?).  I don’t subscribe to that culture.

I’m on my way home.  Listening to, as it happens, the Radio 4 Comedy Podcast.  That’s right, I’m listening to what is played on Radio 4 after the 6 o’clock news on a Friday night.  I’m not blasting my ears out, I’m listening to Sandi Toksvig in the chair and Jeremy Hardy on a political rant.

So don’t tut when I sit down, as if I can’t hear you.  And expect that, because I’ve got earphones in, I can’t hear what you’re saying about “those students” as you glance at me repeatedly.  I’m going home to our flat, which we own, with my husband, who I’ve been married to for four and a half years.  And our cat, who waits at the door for us.

I dare to be different.  There are some of us out there, if you choose to look beyond the stereotype.  Ones who are different, for different reasons.  My reason to be different is a a truth that goes beyond the grave.  Beyond stereotypes.  Beyond tutting at those I don’t know, though I recognise that I do this too sometimes, though I try not to.  Beyond giving up three nights a week for people I love and care for and have the priveledge to know and set an example to.

And yes, there are students who fit the stereotype.

But guess what?

I’m not one of them.

Ari at Beyond My Slab is our host for Fun Monday this week and here’s here great topic:

Tell us about your all-time worst Neighbors from Hell. You know, the family of Irish clog dancers who once lived in the flat/apartment above you? Mrs. Nextdoor and her banshee-like multiple orgasms? Mr. and Mrs. Hard-of-Hearing with their television on full blast? The guys across the street who set off 4th of July fireworks starting in March and didn’t stop until the first real snowfall?

When I first read Ari’s topic I couldn’t think of anything, we’ve been blessed with some really nice neighbours, but then I remembered…
We live in a small block of flats, just eight flats in total and we know most of our neighbours to say “hi” to in the car park, that kind of thing.  The people who live opposite us we know quite well as we regularly pass in the hallway.  The chap who used to live below us we had had a few conversations with and he seemed a nice chap, quite chatty and friendly.  Those sharp-eyed readers will notice the past tense of that conversation.

There was a bit of a commotion one night.  This happened to be the night of my 21st birthday party and I had friends round to celebrate (with pizza and smoothies, as it happened).  Being nosey people we opened our front door to find out what was going on.  At which point we were ordered by armed police officers to go back inside the flat and keep the door closed.  Ooh errr….  Upon looking outside we could see a number of marked and unmarked police cars, but not the car of our neighbour-downstairs.  He wasn’t home.  The police smashed in his door and after a little while began to take evidence from the flat!  

A few minutes later Mr Neighbour-Downstairs arrives back.  He comes round the corner in his car and panics!  There are policemen in stab vests all over the place and it’s obvious they’ve raided his flat.  At this point we’re all watching out of the windows like the nosey neighbours we are.  But instead of turning round when he sees the first police car Mr Neighbour-Downstairs decides that driving down a passageway next to our block is the most sensible way to evade being reprimanded by the local consabulary.  Not so.  Said passageway is about a foot narrower than his car.  He wedges his car in the passageway (with a thump that is felt throughout the block) and is duly arrested.

We think he was charged with burglary and drug offenses, but we never found out.  The police locked up the flat and a few weeks later the door was refitted and a new tenant moved in.  Never found out what happened to Mr Neighbour-Downstairs.  The new neighbour downstairs is very nice though we barely see her.