Is this normal?

Is there something wrong with me? (Be very, very careful how you answer this.) When I touch the input plug before plugging it into the computer so as to prepare to listen to Tim Curry read Lemony Snicket's The Ersatz Elevator, there is a tapping sound that comes through my external speakers... does this mean that I have an electric personality? Or that I am transmitting signals to aliens? Maybe I have too much caffeine dashing through my veins.

Perhaps I should have some tea. Some caffeine-free, herbal tea. In my new kitty tea pot courtesy of Steffi and Diana (shown to R), which was birthday substitute for the lack of real-life kitties being allowable in new domicile :)

Having a break in real, meaningful and directed activity (i.e., horrific amounts of assigned reading and writing) is good, but I am tending to kind of pointlessly meander between the kitchen and my room in attempt to look busy. I do lots of laundry and cleaning of stationary objects! Am thinking of making a schedule for myself for tomorrow. But, actually, will be working in CLCR for enrolment, so that does give me a function :) This morning, had interview to receive National Insurance number; that was thrilling.

Weekend was quite eventful and fun.
Friday -- went to Cardiff Blues v. Glasgow Warriors rugby game with E, Ciara (E's sister) and Mark (Ciara's boyfriend). The burger van at Cardiff Arms Park is delish! And, oh, so healthy :) And here's an annoyance -- not getting your top with your bottle of Coca-cola. The top was included two weeks ago at the last game... but NO MORE! I noticed they weren't giving them to people, so I asked specifically for mine and got a significantly suspicious glare and a bluntly negative answer. But then, perhaps since my eye didn't have a malicious shine, the lady kindly told me that they are no longer allowed to give them out. Apparently, they are a hazard or a nuisance as people throw them at players, and probably, stupid refs. Well, okay. But that does make it a bit challenging for a coordinationally challenged individual to walk whilst carrying a purse, a burger, napkins and a topless Coke.

(note: pictures will have to be linked to Flick now... grrrrrr.)

My understanding of rugby rules and things like a 'maul' are increasing. But only very slightly. One item of note is that the new player from Fiji runs extraordinarily fast. He scored his first try during this game. We were stood about ten feet from the pitch and it was fabulous. There is a lot of yelling at the referee. I would not want to be a referee.

The mascot of the team is Bruiser. He is a large bear (Do they have bears in Wales? I do not think so. A search on Google for Welsh bears turned up a disturbing site, and it is not my intention to disturb anyone. Today.). I thought he was like one of those dogs with a cute little spot over his eye, but I have been informed that this is meant to be a black eye (from the rugby, you know). Of course he is missing teeth (from the rugby, you know). His head is wrapped in a bandage (from the rugby, you know) and he appears to have a gut (from the ale, you know). (photo courtesy of E's new Walkman phone with all these fantabulous features meant to inspire technical envy in all who see it.)

One funny thing is at half time (if they call it that here) when the tiny people come out and play flag rugby. The referee or coach or whoever is out there looks like a cat herder. It is really amusing.

Saturday -- spent morning being industrious in moving furniture, fixing things, eating breakfast at Taste Buds (the City Road version of George's Grill), returning borrowed items to people, venturing to IKEA, getting a fourth sheer panel (which just happens to be 2 1/2 inches longer than the other panels of the same description...). To recover from such an absurd level of industrious behaviour, a spontaneous trip to the pebble beach at Cold Knap was decided upon. (There are pictures of Knap on this surfing site linked above. I did no surfing, opting instead to learn about sea snails and barnacles. I thought barnacles were tiny shell-ey things, but they are also these huge shells that look like a little pointed hat. If you touch one, it moves slightly, but when you touch it again, it has sucked down onto the rock or whatever and will not move in any sense at all. The reason it moves the first time is that they raise themselves just a little to let air in. Who knew?). The Knap is right next to Barry, which is about 20 minutes from downtown Cardiff, to the West. And a bit south.

The beach is made of big pebbles up at the top of the hill, but it is then sandy at the water. There is an inlet next to a rocky outcrop (which provides for adventuresome climbing), where seaweed washes up. This seaweed is the wierdest seaweed ever as it has odd little pustules (such an unfortunate word) at the ends of the leaves and on the stems. Of course, I had to take a shell and poke them. They burst. With a little 'puff' noise. It was gloriously icky! In the seaweed section of the beach -- by this point, my shoes had been abandoned -- we hunted for sea creatures in little rivulets and pools.

Planes leaving Rhoos Cardiff International Airport (hint, hint) fly through a little dip in the hills around the western side of the bay and over the Knap if the wind is right. The wind was right, so I have all these pictures of glorious beach with tons of blue sky and one tiny speck over the tree line. Yes, we are easily amused. There are cliffs on that end of the beach and that will be my next area of exploration. And a cool railway bridge that should make some excellent pictures. For someone with a clue of how to fully utilise their camera, that is.

On way back into Cardiff, E stopped at Castell Mynach for a snack of some mussels and a bloomer (which is just a big doughy bit of baked bliss) for dipping in the sauce. Yummy!

Then, met Mari for a goodbye coffee before heading to Dawny's going away party in Caerphilly at the Goodrich Pub. Steffi, Katharine, E and I rode up on the train together and much amusement was had by: a) the fact that I had my knitting with me -- from my coffee shop outing, i promise!; b) all of the coloured pens I own in my purse; c) my attempts to do coloured pen art on an envelope on a rocking train; and d) the fact that my student rail card was actually IN my purse amongst all the yarn instead of home on my desk and which I ought to have used to buy my ticket... grrrrrrrr.

Fun, fun, fun party. Dawn is moving to Huddersfield to pursue PhD in Linguistics (AND Patrick Stewart is the Chancellor! Who knew?!?). She is very brave and I cannot imagine trying to finish this dissertation whilst trying to sell house, having buyers back out on sale, preparing house for sale again and uprooting her life across country -- all within three months. The rest of the party included lots of 80s music (!yay!); talk of adoption for Katharine (to solve that tricky visa problem), critical theory discussion of The Rocky Horror Picture Show; horror at the fact that Amrie has never seen it; an 80s dancing demonstration by Eamonn that disturbingly resembled the Macarena, tight-shoe hobbling by Dawn; a shadily early departure by Matthew; and en masse Quiz Night assault planning.

Sunday -- lazy day, including incessant warting about the Ryder Cup. I will agree that it is quite annoying for US golfing fans to bellow out immediately upon the follow-through of a shot, 'IN the HOLE, Tigeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrr!' That is vexing. It is also vexing to chant: 'U - S - A! U - S - A!' over and over and over again. Generic applause with perhaps an occasional discreet whistle would be quite sufficient.

Monday -- Final goodbye to Dawn over tea and cookies, with entertainment by someone doing a Rubix's Cube :( She also took her kitties to the Cat Protection agency, rendering it a really rough day. More furniture movement, thanks to E Taxi, Removal, Electronics Management and General Repair Service. Then we all watched Riverdance and The Matrix (odd combination, yes). We are having an attempt to watch the trilogy plus the Animatrix in order and in four days.

And here we are. Ready to go to the estate agents' to complain about some things, ask for some other things and barter for a reduction in this month's rent. Hmmm.
Sounds fun, no?
No.

One thing I have learnt today: potatoes CAN go bad. Very bad indeed. Bleeeech! (so that's what the smell in my cabinet was... I thought potatoes never went bad, they just grew little stems.)

note (partly to self): next submission will be to explain British phenomenon of Quiz Night more successfully.