Ghoti and Chips

Yes, indeedy. We did have ghoti and chips at Thursday night's quiz (and am fully aware that not one but two days have now passed since the explanation was expected). Well, I had to have chicken, because some great thieving soul took what they hadn't ordered. As clever readers may have surmised at this point, ghoti does indeed sound like fish, if you consider the following:

• the gh that is in enough
• the o that is in women
• the ti that is in nation

This gives us f-i-sh. This example in support of spelling reform is generally attributed to George Bernard Shaw, but Wikipedia disputes this.

Many impressed nods and offers of coffee to Katharine for her submission for the phonemic task of Thursday as well. Here is another little game to impress friends at parties: How many different pronunciations are there for -ough?

So, we totally lost at quiz night. But we had an absolutely grand time! Our team was quite international, which could have had something to do with our low score -- Maurizio, Steffi, Alex, Diana, her mom Claudia (visiting from Columbia, if I haven't mentioned that before), Eamonn and moi. Due in part to my amazing (although I could stand some improvement) animation awareness, we were the only team to get 10 out of 10 on the 'Identify the Famous Rabbits' section -- I had to argue quite vociferously in favor of The Energizer Bunny (not the Duracell Bunny) and of Rabbit from Winnie the Pooh. Claudia and Diana thought it was great fun, even though the English was being spoken at rather too high a rate of speed and so they had no idea what the questions were. They especially like the fiesty little old ladies, who were present in abundance.

Back to the initial topic of ghoti, Jasper and Carrot are well on their way to becoming 'top drawer' snobby fish. They have moved up in the world to a new penthouse tank, which E sensibly recommended and helped me to buy since a) they still have not died and b) the water problem was becoming quite stressful. Online yesterday, I read that goldfish are not supposed to be kept in bowls, actually... They were transplanted last night and are really funny swimming around in about three times the volume of water as they had before. I think the comment was, 'Your fish are on crack.' Sometimes a piece of food gets caught in the downdraft of water flow and Jasper goes speedily chasing it in a nosedive to the bottom :) Think shall have to get more snails as there is only one left, due to my cleaning efforts, no doubt and the fact that you just forget that snails are there since their personalities are so subdued. To make up for this fact, I became a victim of marketing and got a Gary the Snail to make up for this species lack.

Still on topic (because I am known for my ability to stay on topic and focussed), saw no fish (or sharks) washed up on the beach yesterday. There were ducks in the water; who knew that ducks swam in the ocean? Yes, we went again. YAY!!!!!! But yesterday, went to a new part of the same beach which is in Porthkerry Park. The part where we got to the beach is close to the viaduct train bridge, on around towards the side where the airport is. The park itself is really big and the beach is only a small part of it. Lots of people had brought their dogs out, even though it was a rubbish misty day yesterday. It was also slightly chilly, as you may see on pics in flickr (which shall be linked here in a couple of hours since, yet again Blogger Photo is rebelling).

This part of the beach is also pebble (aka, large rocks which can be hazardous and slide if you are going either down or up hill from the beach. This though seems to be funny if noone gets hurt and gives other people things to do like make noises of stupidity at the sliding, flailing person.). The sandy part is much more narrow than the other part of the beach we have visited before (although the tide was coming in) and there are more of the flat rock surface under and instead of sand. This flat rock surface is really coolly carved out, presumably from centuries of water. Although, i suppose i could be wrong. Not only is it carved into what looks like purposefully-laid stones, but there are carvings in layers as well, which makes handy steps for clambering up and down large outcrops, between which waves are coming in and making plumes into the air. It is really challenging to catch a wave plume with a camera when this camera thinks before it snaps.

Now to format these pictures and get stuff on Flickr. Have pics from Norwich as well, so perhaps next blog should be a description of Norwich...

Prajong

Why is someone named Prajong calling me?

Why is the earth spherical?

There are just no absolute answers for some things.

Another query would be why whilst am getting ready for quiz night, my view in the mirror (I mean, I don't just sit around contemplating my visage all day) reveals a 1.5 inch vertical cut on my neck... This alarms me as I have no recollection of this injury. I did ride a pedal bike today but unless I suffered a crash that produced amnesia, no trauma was suffered. I don't think I have run into anything...

Tutored two Korean people online in English this afternoon -- this seems to be going well. Esp. after yesterday's vocal demonstration of anger at the utter ridiculosity that is MSN Messenger. That has got to be the worst program ever and just so happens to be that interface that FaceToFace uses for tutelage.

In additional instructional news, today's seminar groups are my less talkative ones but they actually responded to stimulus (not poking with stick, merely phonemic transcription)! Hoorah for making people have fun when Language is not their primary course! Also having a voice possibly helped.

Because I am a) lazy and b) need to take in the washing, will fill up space with poem from which words were transcribed in seminars. It is amusing and will allow much discussion on the following topics to start: different sounds can be produced by the same combination of letters; different combinations of letters can produce the same sound. For a secondary exercise, clever readers may wish to try to find how many ways one can spell (in English) the sound represented by the 'o' in to. (hint: there are at least 10)

Then you may wish to consider how you might order Ghoti and chips when ordering a fried seafood accompanied by a potato product. (explanation tomorrow).

Now to the poem (goodness, brain is flitty today):

Anonymous poem,
based on 'Chaos' by G. Nolst Trenite

We'll begin with box, and the plural is boxes;
But the plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes.
Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese,
Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a whole lot of mice,
But the plural of house is houses, not hice.
If the plural of man is always called men,
When couldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

The cow in the plural may be cows or kine,
But the plural of vow is vows, not vine.
And I speak of a foot, and you show me your feet,
But I give a boot -- would a pair be called beet?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,
Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?
If the singular is this and plural is these,
Why shouldn't the plural of kiss be called kese?

Then one may be that, and three may be those,
Yet the plural hat would never be hose;
We speak of a brother, and also of brethren,
But though we say mother, we never say methren.

The masculine pronouns are he, his and him,
But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!
So our English, I think you will agree,
Is the trickiest language you ever did see.

I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you
On hiccough, thorough, slough and through.

Well done! And now you wish, perhaps
To learn of less familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird.

And dead; it's said like bed, not bead;
For goodness' sake, don't call it deed!
Watch out for meat and great and threat.
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt.)

A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor bother in bother, broth in brother.
And here is not a match for there.
And dear and fear for bear and pear.

And there's close and rose and lose --
Just look them up -- and goose and choose.
And cork and work and card and ward,
And font and front and word and sword.

And do and go, then thwart and cart.
Come, come, I've hardly made a start.
A dreadful language? Why, man alive,
I'd learned to talk it when I was five,

And yet to write it, the more I tried,
I hadn't learned it at fifty-five.

Bunnies, beaches and bears. Oh my.

Where in the world to begin. There is also the choice of the alliteration of C: croci, Columbian dinner and Cold Knap. But I like B, being slightly biased...

Well, let's begin with things in chronological order. Bears need sweaters. Teddy bears need sweaters ever more so since they are inanimate and therefore inactive and therefore colder. And people who are swivetting for a variety of reasons need to knit small projects so as to feel speedy sense of accomplishment and also amuse themselves with others' raised eyebrows. (pictures of various and sundry items in this blog will be inserted later. the writing must get done. Oh, unless of course Blogger is being an idiot as usual in which case links to items will be inserted, confusing people between the links to other sites and the links to Flickr... mwah ha ha ha.)

Croci are popping out all over town. They are purple and quite pretty.

On Saturday night, Diana and her mom cooked us a lovely dinner of traditional Columbian food -- starters were platanos (or plantains), which were made into these little fried crisp sort of things and on which you put a yummy hot mixture of chopped onion, tomato and cheese. The top of my mouth was horribly burned due to my excessive greed. Mains was a soup called Ajiaco made from a base of broth and coriander (aka, cilantro) with potato. A certain type of potato was supposed to be used: papa pastusa and papa criolla, but those are not available here. In Columbia, there are like 8 types of potato and each one has a specific usage in different recipes. There was also supposed to be another spice, called guascas, but this was not to be found in Cardiff. Then there were little bowls of additions that you could make as you liked -- chicken, avocado, cream, capers, corn. Mmmmm! Then... dessert was bocadillo con queso y aerequipe. Bocadillo is possibly the most delectable thing. It is basically made from a paste of guava, which is allowed to dry in the style of lemon squares, before being cut into squares. These squares are then wrapped in banana leaves, so it is kind of like opening a little present before you eat each one! This can be eaten with cheese (queso doble crema was what was supposed to be used, but again...) or smeared with a lovely dollop of aerequipe. Or you can make a trilogy of flavour and roll your eyes back in bliss.

Sunday's excursionary activity in the rain began with some religious activity and then proceeded to indulgent comfort food at the Castell Mynach -- I had Toad in the Hole. Which was a good thing since the beach was the next brain storm, and this activity was quite literally carried out in a storm. E made some silly statement about turning around and being surprised by some mad person running halfway to the beach in the freezing driving rain. But if we hadn't gone to the beach, we wouldn't have seen these tiny shark-like creatures' carcasses washed up. It is my Wikipedia informed opinion that these were Spiny Dogfish Sharks. Their skin feels like a cat tongue crossed with rubber -- very interesting. Of course I touched it... And we would not have figured out that rain causes rock slides close to cliffs. Therefore, you should not go looking for overhangs to shelter under or you might get a smack on the top of your head. Fortunately injury was not part of the activity.

Monday, left a bit late, but... headed to Norwich! Hoorah! Lovely train journey, with lots of knitting. Sat across from the cutest little boy with a mop of blond curls to die for on the Cardiff-London leg -- he was very well-behaved and stared at my knitting like it was the most bizarre thing ever and also sang Don't Stop Me Now periodically and was just generally terribly precious.

On the London-Norwich leg, I don't think there exists a geographical area with more bunnies. There was one field with at least 200 bunnies flitting their tails into the air and grazing (or whatever rabbits do) all over the bloody place. Unless am terribly mistaken, also think spied my first rabbit warren. It was this embankment area along the railway with tons and tons of holes and some of these holes had bunnies sitting next to them. Also lots of pheasants. Although I do not think they live in holes.

Had super lodging at UEA and got settled in in time for dinner in Norwich with Yuko, one of the Rotary Scholars in Norwich this year, and Mat, my amusing antipathistic attorney friend who is also the son of one of the Cardiff Bay Rotarians.

After a meeting yesterday morning, walked the 25 minutes into town from campus instead of taking bus, just because I wanted to take a picture of a certain sign that had amused me the day before. The good side was that I found the sign as well as some other ones -- these are official signage displayed beneath 20mph speed signs, no doubt to signify the presence of small children as incentive to mind the speed. Norwich is a lovely medieval city on the River Wensum, that is pretty much the focal point of East Anglia. It is remarkably clean and very ye olde worlde, although not as much so as York. There are approximately 300 pubs and about 50 churches (although this number used to be higher) -- Mat informs me that this is to take care of people by providing a pub for nearly every day of the year and a church for every week.

Failed to locate Norwich Yarn shop (where they actually have an open knitting session on Tuesday mornings), but managed to console self at brilliant yarn merchant in the marketplace in the centre. Hoorah for brilliant yarn merchants!

After walking past castle to C of E Cathedral and poodling about there for nearly two hours, as I am wont to do in old churches; met Mat to go to the Belgian Monk, a marvelous pub which I sadly did not take picture of. This means I shall have to go back methinks. As the name suggests, they serve an impressive number of Belgian brews. I had Grimbergen Dubbel, very tasty and rich. These beers come in half pints because they are so strong. Mmmmm!

Caught 4.30 train back to London, where was to meet Helene at 6.45, after dash from 6.24 arrival at Liverpool Street to Farringdon so as to go to The Bishop's Finger in Smithfield. Yet again, I was the victim of conversational assault. This person was not horrible, but it is just fascinating to me how people will insist on talking to me. Helene says it is because I smile. After got on Tube, had thought that perhaps I would not be allowed to get out the barriers and then get back in to continue journey to Paddington. This is where an accent comes in handy. I promise I wasn't trying to be an idiot girl, but the Underground people were so nice to me, and this during the end of rush hour. Fab.

Managed to catch 9.15 train (which was the last one, I think -- whew!) after tripping up stairs whilst running to train at Paddington, after the Underground train did a couple of 'Let's just sit completely still for 5 minutes.' not once but twice on the cross town journey.

Got in at 11.53 pm, which is always a great time to have a Balti Kashmiri curry from the place around the corner when the Chinese place that you have been craving for several hours happens to have closed at 11.30 pm. So sad. And yet so happy!

Today's post-production forecast is that it has rained all day.
Tutored my first Korean student online.
Had new hob installed (finally).
Jasper and Carrot got new water.
I hate MSN Messenger.

The Borat movie sneak preview was sold out before yesterday and so we do not have tickets. Boo.

And finally, to introduce foreigners to Pot Noodle. Pot Noodle is a brand of cheap and easy noodle (shock) similar to Ramen or Cup o' Noodles. Apparently, it is also the Fuel of Britain. This is a most entertaining website and will also provide persons interested in the Welsh accent with some fantastic examples of language. For persons intending to visit me anytime in the near future, this would be useful preparation as the Welsh accent does take some getting used to, although in quite the most charming way. Additionally, there is a little game that will allow people at dull jobs to waste some valuable company time. Sounds like great fun, innit?

Waltzing Excavators

But, yes, synchronised excavator waltzing on The Discovery Channel. It is kind of amazing. This is on a show about how similar to the human body are large machines like excavators, most specifically, excavators (ha).

So, cannot find picture online of this, but it is about 8-10 large armed excavator machines lined up and twirling and waving their arms and digger heads to The Blue Danube. This amuses me greatly, as does the operator being able to have the head retrieve an egg and gingerly placing it in an egg container, and I recommend this show to all, even if unable to locate show description on web.

One challenging thing about this is that I am trying to watch this without my glasses and am having to squint in a Mr. Magoo sort of way. Reason for this being attempt to exercise eye balls. Right.

Not waltzing Matilda, but interesting start to weekend.

Oh, my giddy aunt.

This is quite the amusing phrase which has recently entered my linguistic consciousness. Not that I have giddy aunts; my aunts are all quite sensible and well-grounded, although they do have excellent senses of humour appreciaTION. This statement is uttered in moments when one is either a) shocked or b) vexed. It reminds me of Daddy's phrase, 'Heavens to Betsy'!

Today it has poured rain, between spells of the most gorgeous weather ever :) My laundry has disappointingly failed to dry, although one of my white socks with blue trim is now a different colour blue where it used to be white due to its sneaking into the initial washing of the blue bedskirt. Laundry should be rainy fabulous fresh eventually. On rainy days, I am particularly happy to have my Dr. Martens due to their superior rubber sole quality that is supposed to prevent slippage. However, even the algae on Welsh pavement stones is giving them a run for their money. Wet leaves make this even more precarious. My umbrella seems to have gone missing.

Today was Thursday. Today still is Thursday. But Thursday is about to pass for yet another week. It is quite annoying to think that we are on about the 40th or so Thursday of 2006. Oh, my giddy aunt!

On Thursdays, I have my seminar groups. Today, we did phonetic transcription. Since this was one my favourite things last year, it was terribly fun and the kids probably thought I was a bit bonkers. There are certain vowels in British English that I simply do not have the ability to pronounce. An example of this is the vowel in bird or word.

Relative to the beginning of classes, it seems a good time to provide commentary on this year's fashion trends. Last year, you may recall that legwarmers and large metallic belts took us back to the 80s. Well, a few sad souls are still under the impression that these items make them look sexy. It is really unfortunate. One 'fortunate' thing is that many undergrads seems to have moved on from approx. 1987 to approx 1993. I even believe that I recall similar outfits in my own repertoire, and the fact that this style has returned makes me feel a bit ancient. Trends feeling eerily familar involve primarily a lot of black and denim. No plaid shirts yet... One main alteration is that dancer cut-off leggings are frequently worn instead of tights and with the stupidest little ballerina slippers coated in a plethora of sequins. A contradiction here is that most of these dancer-wanna-bes look completely NOT dancers because a) it might actually involve movement of the non-carb consuming sort or b) the anemic twigs might happen to fracture something were they to attempt anything more exerting than first position. Other amusing additions to today's scenery were canary yellow opaque tights and brilliant orange glitter eyeshadow. Fortunately these travesties were not committed on the same person. Nor were they in my classroom.

A further tangent to the new students is recent commentary on the massive population explosion of the tattoo, particularly on the lower back of the female of the species. Over the past few months, intensive research has been undertaken (including discussion with older generational representatives) and it has been hypothesised that this phenomenon is a result of the several prior generations' lack of epidermal ink. It is reported that tattoos were quite popular a few decades ago; this resulted in subsequent spawn seeing the effects of aging on the art and declining to follow the labeling process. Since there are not frequent examples of granny tats, it is our opinion that this has led to the current boom. It's going to be rawther alarming to see grannies with 'Bad Tart' or 'Naughty' tattooed over their waistbands. One opinion is that it is really thoughtful of people to be so courteous as to go ahead and label themselves so's you know what to expect.

E cooked magnif dinner of breaded plaice, new potatoes, broccoli and cauliflower with basil and parsley white sauce. B provided Turkish Delight (I have never had this - quite lovely), the episode of South Park where Al Gore fights against the ManBearPig (half man, half bear and half pig -- well, he did invent the internet. what else do you want from the man?) and noone takes him serial, and an invitation to see the new Borat movie next week. I think we shall go. The government of Khazakstan has threatened to sue Sacha Coen. He reminds me of a much more in-your-face Groucho.

Why is there a Cardiff City Bus with a big sign in the window that says 'Tesco Free Bus'? Some smarty-pants people say that this is because it is the free bus that goes to Tesco. My question was intended to be semi-rhetorical. It shall be investigated and reported on at a future time.

Canadian Wild Rice

This is really a lovely type of grained food, providing health, fibre and, no doubt, a good number of vitamins (pronounced here, [vitt-a-mens]. If you say [vite-a-mens], certain people smirk.). But when a grain is stuck sideways in one's throat, it is quite less than healthful feeling. It also provides several days' worth of sustenance, which is rather a good thing when it takes 45-50 minutes to cook 250 grams of rice. It has a lovely taste and with fish and shrimp and vegetables, FABulous!

But I digress.

And here is another digression: Harrisen's photo site. It will be added to the side links (permission granted by Katie).

Things that have happened today:
My 8.00 am meeting did not happen.
Prepared for classes and seminars.
Coffi with Katharine at Shot in the Dark, where it was decided that she should not cheapen herself by taking a job selling cheap tat for shady Canadian company.
Thanksgiving plans are being made.
My green scarf wanted to stay at Shot in the Dark (coffee shop) for the afternoon. It did so, soaking up a copious amount of cigarette smoke. And it was still on it's chair when I returned three hours later! Now, how cool is that?
Phonology was discussed in lecture today.
It appears that I was supposed to make up my own sign-up sheet for my office hours.
This was done. (no wonder no one has signed up to see me...)
Keith Barber was roped into helping with the hanging of Diana's desk. He is terribly kind. This procedure will have to continue tomorrow.
Centenary IT helped recover a computer error. Somebody order those people a meat basket!
It rained on my laundry.

Logographic semantics

From the Greek word logos, commonly translated as word in English. Giving rise to a phrase, which here signifies communicative human meaning through the use of letters formed into words.

We may now continue with our discussion of meaning extraction (far, far below) since herself has been up and ready peachy-keen since the ungodly hour of 7.30, suitably attired on the top half of my body at least for the online meeting with the English tutoring agency in Korea. Which meeting did not happen. Grrrr. But firstly, must catch up on what I have been doing... well, I mean, I do know what has been going on (I think), but I have been scolded for being invisible and mute. Although, if anyone has been around me, I have not been silent or mute as there has been a whole lotta coughing going on. And whininess renders most invisibility attempts quite futile.

Last week was just lovely. Well, it really wasn't so ugly or anything, just a lot of potentially negative events. But as Judith always says, one makes a decision whether to be cheerful or not. (Boy, is it a good thing I went to meditation last week.) So things were mostly cheerful, in a kind of phlegmy, medicine-induced way. To re-cap: smashed big toe Tues night (it is probably not broken as I am able to walk without excrutiating pain -- hoorah. although it is an a shocking blend of blacks and blues.).

Wednesday: prepared for Thursday seminars, toodled online for further economic sustenance, etc., made slight note of fact that lungs seemed to be tightening in manner prophetic of illness (probably due to the fact that Wednesday was the third day in a row that the property 'management' people sent someone -- a new person each day -- around to flap up corner carpet in my room to inspect the ruined floor underneath, causing mold spores to zoom around in a frenzied manner and at great speed, before making the enlightening proclamation, 'Wow. This floor is totally gone. Completely rotten and soaking. Pretty big hole. This has to be replaced... Can you leave town for a few days?' ummm. yeah. uh-huh. Are we on instant re-play? Let me pack up and leave for you, shall I? idiots.).

Thursday: 'Awoke' (because really didn't sleep much due to periodic cessation of breathing capability) to prepare for class and discovered complete lack of voice. Oooh! Prime example of the need for language when have none, except of course written... And these seminar groups were disappointingly not nearly as Chatty McChatterton as Week 1 kids were, so I rasped away at them for the majority of both 50 minute sessions, receiving many blank looks in response to inquiry such as, 'What are some differences between human and animal communication?' *grunt* Returned home and wallowed in a self-pity pool of Hall's cough drops, while housemates planned barriers of tubercular quarantine (not really. they were very very sweet.).

Friday: the pool of Hall's is getting low... They do not sell anti-biotic healing ointment in this country at the pharmacy. Antibiotic thingys (not the chemist's word) are only available from your GP. The closest thing you can get is an antiseptic cream... well, the foot hasn't fallen off yet, so I guess this is a good sign that antiseptic cream works... Went to fruiterers to purchase lemons for tea, due to Vitamin C need, fell victim to 'Peaches! 5 for a pound!' These were the worst peaches I have ever tasted. Not only hard as the floor, but as tasty as cardboard. There is still one in my cabinet and I think it will never ripen. Perhaps it should go out in the hedgehog baiting area --
Steffi and I are attempting to lure hedgehogs into our garden. I have never seen one (except for Mrs. Tiggywinkle), but they are apparently terrifically cute and make smacking noises when they eat. There is even a Cardiff Hedgehog Helpline!

The Weekend: due to return of E from water slide holiday in Turkey, was no longer forced to whine without audience. Also, had lovely food, which would have been 10 times better had I actually been able to taste it normally, instead of with slightly metallic sensation in mouth. Had very entertaining outing to The Pumping Station Interiors and Antiques on Sunday, which was first outing in a couple of days. Snuffled way through, but I persevered and looked at almost everything! This is a refurbished sewage pumping station that is now a rabbit warren of an antique shop -- Hoorah for old stuff that people don't want! Everyone should be very proud at my self-control, since E managed to extract me sans a single purchase. Additionally, to add to the comic series of days, my computer seems to have renamed itself and now refuses to recognise me as ME (again, I feel my use of language to blame the inanimate object has been rather successful). Everything will be fiiiiiiine, though -- it is good to know smart computer people and also to have a rapport with the IT people at one's home institution, so that they will give one super secret admin passwords. In the interval, using another computer, so the keys are in slightly different places, causing a few typos -- notices of these may be pointed out in comments. I will accept mockery. But only for a short time.

Now, class... Am taking chance that the mama will be able to find the humour in the following example of language :)

If one takes the signage to left (which has been examined prior to publication by myself and other credible persons for photoshopping evidence, with a judgement that this is real), one is able to glean at least two discreet pieces of communication from the arrangement of logos, or words, into statements, or sentences of sorts. The sign indicates that Northampton General Hospital does, in fact, have a facility for providing planning information to families (a topic for socio-cultural discussion here would be, 'What is a family?'). The second (or third, depending on the process of verbal deconstruction selected) information chunk tells the reader one of two things, the first one being the location of entrance to said office of family planning. As a class, perhaps in small groups, you may discuss possible secondary meaning(s).

Thank you for your attention. I think we have all learned something here today.

Note of interest: Dawny has entered the therapy world of the blog...
And there was much rejoicing. yaaay.

Pictographic semantics

Well, now that the bleeding has finally stopped, we may begin our discussion of meaning extraction in the phenomenon of language.

But perhaps first, an aside, as alert readers may be wondering, 'What in God's name has she done to herself this time?' Whereas courteous and concerned friends will think, 'Oh, dear Lord, I hope she doesn't lose a limb or have to have a skin graft.' Well, to ease minds and continue to provide amusement for those people who miss seeing me bust it by toppling off my 3-inch high flip flops (what devious person invented those, and what demented soul decided they should ever be a fashionable statement?), this evening upon my return from a meditation class with Katharine, which was supposed to calm me down, untense my shoulders and, I rather hoped, make me stop grinding my teeth slightly, a piece of fairly heavy masonry decided it was both the time and place to crash upon my (fortunately shoed) toe and break itself in half. (Isn't it good how I utilised language to blame the inanimate object here? Stupid brick heading on stupid rubbish area containment wall in front garden in the dark.) Oh, the pain instantly began, but being the brave soul, no sound other than an 'ooomph!' was made, peace and calm showed only a slight diminishment, and I continued to angrily throw the rubbish onto the pavement -- as our flat seems to be the only one to do this. Admittedly, my intention in all this was not destructive or malicious and so does not contradict the calming instructor this evening... Anyhoo, I limped inside muttering a not-so-happy song, and was absol. shocked, along with Steffi, upon taking off my shoe and sock that my toe was rather a pulpish mess. (Happiness has turned to intense annoyance at this point.)

After 20 minutes holding ice on it (so v. glad bought clever multi-coloured triangle-shaped ice trays at IKEA as would have been forced to use Vienetta otherwise and licking one's feet from chocolate isn't really appealing), the oozing seemed not to be planning on stopping any time soon. So, what should one do in this situation? We call our Papa! And we are so pleased he is home! And he tells us that pressure comes before ice -- for future reference, I have now made up a brilliant mnemonic device, pi, representing pressure before ice. Hoorah for mnemonic devices conceived in moments of annoyance and great pain and with assistance of Papas.

Status at moment: toe is bandaged and have taken extra measure of taping it with rather an excessive amount of tape firmly to my second toe. There is a dull throbbing. I believe I shall be forced to sit around and knit and read quite a lot over the next few days. Oh, and fill in forms and toodle about online. And drink tea. And eat Gingernuts.

Now! Back to semantics. (My goodness, Jasper and Carrot kind of smell... hmm.) Relative to the covering of the history of writing this week, the illustration above represents a pictogram, a picture used to represent meaning. (I did have a pretty good rant of intellectual-sounding absurdity to go with this, but the smashing of an appendage has had negative effects on my logic and cleverness)

Whilst this communication device originated in earlier cultures (separate from the phenomenon of art, I might say, as artistic events are usually a one-off and not repeated in any sort of systematic or meaningful way -- although there could perhaps be an argument about Mona Lisa or Andy Warhol items 3,000 years from now, and wouldn't it be interesting to know how that will be analysed? But I digress.), there are quite a lot of instances of this around us. Now, it is unclear to me if this sign has been photo-shopped, as the file forwarded to me from Jeremy (one of the Intro to Lang lecturers) was pretty small... But relative to my intense amusement at signage, such as the warning against high voltage where the person is being violently electrocuted with a lightning bolt above the chest or the warning at castles for dim light where the guy looks as if he is suffering some painful intestinal disturbance , it felt right to share it on the blog. There were some funny interps in my head earlier, but now I just want to climb into my bed and can't be bothered. Perhaps tomorrow, we can examine the extra meanings able to be encoded with an alphabetic system -- although for Mama Bear, may not be possible due to necessity of censorship :) hee hee hee.

SOOOOO, anyone may take a shot at posting an accompanying line to the sign. And respondents should post lines by following the link just below to 'Post a Comment' so as to let everyone see their offering. Don't just email me with them, because then you won't be as famous.

And anyone who didn't get the pictogram interpretations of what to do in the event of terrorism, you should email me and I will send them on. There are quite too many for me to post them all on here. But they are riotously funny.

Why have I just been invited to join the Wild Web Cam group on MySpace? What is wrong with people?

Babies!

Maurizio and Kath are having a baby in March!!!!!!!
This is the most exciting way to start the week as it provides me more subjects (or subject) for whom to knit :) Oh hoorah! Plus, it is fun to knit for little people as projects go faster :)

Knitty, knitty, knitty, knitty! I shall add some more knitting links to the side in celebratory festivity.

This week, I have also gotten pictures in the mail of Harrisen (such a handsome big one-year-old boy!) and Zareen (approx two months old and such precious big eyes!). Formal request for photo updates from the other little ones back home, pleeeese.

Had coffee with Mauri this afternoon, and they will also be hopefully moving into their new house before the end of the month. There are some pretty ridiculous things about buying a house in the UK and things are scheduled to get worse next year, when the seller will have to provide inspection information to potential buyers. However, each inspection is only valid for 6 months. This seems rather absurd to me, but who am I to say? As a buyer under current rules, Mauri has spent 800 GBP on house inspections for two houses so far, so maybe it is a good thing, but... Real estate prices in the UK are up 170% (perhaps I have mentioned this before). Merciful heavens.

In other news, it has come to my attention that car alarms just really seem to know when I am present as they go off everywhere I go. Could this possibly be related to the fact that my speakers make funny noises when I touch the contact on the lead?

Diana's mom has arrived from Columbia and is staying with us for a bit! She is terribly sweet and has brought us all sorts of fabulous food that she will be cooking for us. There is some sort of (somehow spookily familiar -- maybe from Mexico trip?) sauce similar to caramel, but not quite. It it is called Arequipe, and is also known as dulce de leche. It is made from only milk and sugar. It is divine. It is lovely to lick from a spoon when drinking milk. And we all know how obsessed with dairy I am.

Here is a interesting thing, that is kind of frustrating if you are from Columbia -- it is not possible to fly directly into the UK. One must stop in another European country before being allowed to continue on; and one must also obtain a visa for the country of the flight change in addition to the visa they must have to visit the UK.

Anyhoo, Diana's mom's birthday is tomorrow, so I must return to my frenetic knitting of a scarf for her.

Exit ASSL left

Yes, the door to exit is indeed on the left.

It is time for me to leave the library in search of hot caffeinated sustenance now that my fingers have turned a deeper shade of blue and are beginning to feel numb. It also appears to be lunchtime.

Feel as if have been productive -- the accomplishment of the day so far (other than all that nonsense from the morning) is that I have figured out a bus route (root) for my journey to PG Insurance tomorrow morning, for a little gainful employment as a temp. office person for generous Graham (my Rotary counsellor). V. proud of the whole bus thing. When I stand in front of a bus stand and attempt to decrypt the charts and timetables, the gerbil just sits right down on his wheel and it is like my eyes see the writing in Klingon (speaking of which, did people know there are as many Klingon speakers in the world as Welsh speakers? I think that is right, Katharine...?). Handily, there is this website for Traveline that allows dim folk to type in their origin and destination and Presto Chango!, a little grid is vomited forth from a magical database somewhere and it tells you where to get your bus, when to alight, when to walk (with a picture of a little man walking) and from what stop to take your next bus (if you have to change busses, that is)! So fabulous.

I will WALK from my house to the bus stop on the corner, past the house with a population of 97. Will take BUS 50 at 8.04 a.m. to Kingsway, where I will alight at Stop 6. Will WALK to Stop 1. Will take BUS 27 at 8.20 a.m. to Heol Iscoed. Will WALK at 8.40 to PG Insurance and arrive at 8.43. Hoorah! It's the little things in life, you know...

Have looked at some employment opps.
Have left some MySpace comments for people.
Have looked at some depressing news items.
Have told a slight tale in an email that I am in possession of a webcam (but I will get one either today or tomorrow!) so as to have a possibility to be hired to tutor Korean ESL learners via the web...

Fingers.
So.
Cold.

Everything that glitters

That is, unless on decides to suck on the internal ink cartridge of a gold gel pen since the ink is not flowing smoothly. Then, lots of things are glittery, many of them having gold-ish spatter patterns as said victim of personal idiocy performs imitation of cat with fur ball. This is especially entertaining if someone else is attempting to cook a gourmet Indian meal and is rinsing their rice in the sink (to remove the starch) so access to water and a place to eliminate the gold is a bit tricksy.

One note: gold ink is hard to remove from your tongue and it also fiendishly forms a kind of outline of one's teeth, where the teeth meet the gums. While this might be appealing in a sparkly smile sort of way, it is not entirely recommended as people tend to laugh at you. (My secret opinion is that they are just jealous.)

Another note: gold ink is slightly sweet. But in a poisonous sort of way.

Today, the morning began (after coffee and an iron that kept leaking onto my shirt) with an interview to be a mentor in local schools. This would be fun. Interview was over rather quickly (making me wonder if it was really worth it to have fought and cursed at the iron under my breath), so I decided to be industrious and go to the Graduate Centre, which was nearly next door, instead of going home and getting onto computer in hermitish sort of way until my lecture this afternoon. After walking up the 15 flights of stairs to get to the Graduate Centre (not really 15, but it is at the top of the building, blast them), I walked under a ladder at the last five steps (eek!) and the fire alarm went off. At which point everyone was ordered to evacuate the building. Back down the 15 flights of stairs.

So, I thought: 'Okay. Well, I could go to Starbucks and have a nice cup of coffee and write some notes... but a) I do not want to unneccessarily contribute to their massive empire at the expense of local business; b) do not want to ride all the way back into town, because if I do that, I might as well go home and hermit until lecture where coffee and internet would be free; and c) it is too far to go to a local coffee house -- gracious, I am getting lazy and British in my horror of distance greater than 10 yards (but, really. to get to a local coffee house, there is naturally no direct route -- pronounced 'root' here -- it would have been either around the train station, up a hill, round through a neighborhood or down a busy road, under a railroad bridge, up a hill, down a really annoyingly narrow road with manic taxi drivers and halal stores). (DING!) Fabulous idea: will go to National Museum and have nice cuppa tea and look like a bored yet fascinatingly intelligent person (also neatly pressed and dressed) who has tea in a museum when nothing else is worthy of her time.'

Alas, was not allowed in museum as a) it is a Monday and the museum is closed on a Monday; and b) I answered the question, 'Are you with the film crew?' in the negative. Silly girl. Oh well. (But wouldn't that have been an adventure had I thought faster on my feet!)

So, I meandered back to my bicyclette parked at the bottom of the stairs (Because, I am a lady...). And as soon as I unlocked the lock, the sky began to pour on my head in a manner suspiciously and disturbingly similar to the manner in which my shirt was soaked this morning -- do we see a theme? Perchance. My reaction was to spastically wheel my bike up the first flight of stairs, prop it against a wall where any thieving idiot would be visible, and flee to the shelter of the museum porch. I think the door monitor thought I was trying to make a run for it so as to be in the film :)

My thought: 'BLAST, blast, blast.'

When the rain stopped, after about 47 seconds, it seemed as if the heavens were trying to tell me to go to the library -- the ASSL -- to return my book and be productive online for a while (and just look at all I've gotten done, ma!). But then, my ID wouldn't work since: a) am no longer a student; b) do not have staff ID yet; and c) cannot get staff ID as have not been issued contract by HR because they are really slow. But the nice man let me in anyhoo. And I paid my fine for those stupid journals this summer which are ridiculously overrated in the fine world.

Mercy, am I exhausted for someone who technically has nothing to do at the moment. Well, slightly technically. So as not to upset persons who may not know yet, my Autumn will be spent tutoring first-years in two weekly seminars related to the module, Intro to Language. This is in the department when I did my coursework last year and I am so pleased that they asked me! Classes begin this week; lectures this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon and then two hours of seminars on Thursday. This pattern to be repeated times 10. Will also be searching for supplemental since will have a bit of an open schedule. That and the fact that the dollar just seems to get worse. So, hoorah!

Also, this past weekend was RIBI LINK Weekend, which is a sort of mini-conference for all incoming Rotary Scholars to the UK and Ireland. They had an international quiz on the Saturday night (!) -- v. fun! Met some really great people, one from Arkansas, one from South Carolina (who actually arrived in Cardiff on Tuesday and went out with E and myself on Wednesday. He was not encouraged to attend the rugby with the mad group on Saturday, as there were other agenda items scheduled... boooo.), three from Japan, AND.... two from Shreveport! How random is that?? 'So, you're from Louisiana, huh? We're from Shreveport.' 'Hey! I'm from Shreveport!' Have pictures, but have not gotten around to downloading from camera yet.

Re: reference to rugby game: Cardiff Blues beat London Wasps (a v. v. good team reportedly -- what I noticed was that they wore black and yellow striped socks) 36-20 on Saturday afternoon. V. fun game! There were over 10,000 people there. Cardiff Blues games are held in the Cardiff Arms Park, which is right next the Millennium Stadium, so I think 10,000 must be pretty close to capacity, although am sure will be corrected if this is small-minded of me. We had excellent standing location and there was lots of yelling. Was tied most of the way through. Nine of us went -- it was the first rugby experience for Diana and Steffi and Steffi's German friend, Seline, who visited for the weekend! Poor Keith (he is from London -- LOOOOOSER!!!! Tee hee. Maybe a trip to Turkey can give him the will to go on.)

For interested persons, Skimble, Jasper and Carrot are all doing quite well. Skimble stood outside the bathroom window and meowed at me while I brushed my teeth this a.m.

And this is just a funny site: Stuff on my Cat (props to Katharine for this one!)

Amrie, out. (actually, my wrist is tired)