Lost voice

It's finally happened. My accent has changed. I was hoping to survive unscathed but alas it was not to be. I haven't gone Canadian - my sentences don't all end with 'eh', and I haven't picked up such mannerisms as 'where're you to' (though I quite like that one). Nope, I've gone posh.

When I first arrived I was in a lab with all Newfoundlanders (as opposed to my other half, who's shacked up with a huge European contingent). Most of the time we got on fine but one guy just didn't have a clue what I was saying. To be fair I couldn't really understand him either. We both used far too much slang and spoke too fast.

In shops I either had people look at me like I was crazy or gush at how exotic I was. This seems to be the main divide in my experience. It's really embarrassing to stand there while the secretary in your department tells you how wonderful your voice is and that she could listen to you all day. Believe me, she'd soon get bored. On the other hand it's infuriating to ask an unlabelled person in a shop whether they work there 6 times and just have them gape at you like you're some kind of freak then get annoyed with you.

As a result I seem to have inadvertantly dropped the slang and poshed right up. So much so that I can't remember how to speak with my normal accent. I was already pretty well-spoken so it wasn't a giant leap, but now I can't go back without speaking to someone from home. Liam has started to mock me on how ridiculous I sound. As a result, it's also made me pretty angry everytime I meet a 'gusher'. On exiting the cinema last week after watching 'In The Loop' a woman walked past, grabbed my arm and said "ooh you could have been in the film"! I wanted to hit her. Possibly an overreaction but it was a bloody stupid thing to say. Do you find me exiting Hollywood blockbusters and, on hearing a North American accent, blather on about how they could have been the star? No, I do not. Because I am not a twat.

So, my mission now is to regain my accent at all costs, but without going too far in the opposite direction. No-one loves a cod-cockney.

Rant over.


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The importance of play

I often joke that I would never want to be below the age of 25 again. My formative years were the 1980s and I have some fairly horrific fashion mistakes to blank out, but I also dimly remember some good times wedged somewhere between the geeky angst and the ski pants with bodysuit and deck shoes combos.

Thinking back to my childhood pastimes I have three particular favourites:

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1) Duetting with myself.

As a youngster I was a bit of a musician (and still am occasionally). In junior school I used to play the recorder, and this is the reason that I have never performed in a school play - I was always the accompaniment. At home I never liked practicing, as I preferred to play in groups. As people would rarely want to play along* I used to tape record myself playing one part of the duet, then play it back and play along the other half. I don't know whose idea this was. It was probably suggested by one of my parents to shut me up, but I like to think it was my own ingenious idea. And it worked brilliantly! I spent hours at this at a time, and would still if I had a cassette recorder and my trusty book of Handel and Telemann recorder duets.

(*I blamed their lack of skill, others may argue it's because I didn't really have many friends!)


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2) Making patterns

I love art, but was never as fond of drawing 'real' things as I was abstract patterns. I loved my Spirograph, which always was great until the last turn, when it would bounce off and ruin my otherwise perfect squiggles. My set was bigger than this one, with more different sizes. I think it is lost in the wilderness somewhere now... tragic...


Another firm favourite was my Altair Design books. I think these must have been hand-me-downs as I'm pretty sure we had this exact copy, but they were amazing and instilled in me a love of geometric islamic art. I wish I had one now.


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3) The 'Worcester Sauce Contest'

When I was an early teen, my friend Mel and I used to do terrible things with food. One of which was to get the deep fat fryer out and deep fry *everything* in her mum's larder freezer, smother it all with ketchup and vinegar, and scoff to our hearts' content (I shudder to think of the calorie content of one sitting).

The second was the Worcester Sauce Contest. We'd crack open a tin of baked beans or spaghetti hoops, then we'd add as much Worcester Sauce and vinegar as we thought we could take, microwave until nuclear, then see who cried first. For those aware of my hot pepper and pickle obsession, all may be becoming clearer...

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So - music, art and food. Not much has changed in 30 years :)



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Recent projects #2

I've been a bit quiet of late. Not because I haven't had anything to post about, but more through shame. I'm reluctant to post about projects I've finished when I still feel guilty about not finishing the present I was making for the lovely Lisa's 30th birthday months ago. Lisa - I'm really sorry! I promise you'll get it before Christmas...

I've been being fairly experimental, trying to learn new techniques:

This, believe it or not, is supposed to be a sand dollar...


I've also been mucking about with recycled yarn and made a few crochet scrubbies:


I also messed about with colour work (don't look too closely - it's fairly rubbish) with this Charles Rennie Mackintosh sample:


In terms of garments I was pleased with these:

This 'Mudstone' shawl used the Old Shale* stitch and some lovely soft merino tweed wool that my marvellous brother bought me for my birthday this year. It now resides in my office where it routinely keeps me warm when the university fails to put the heating on.

(* According to one of the Earth Science profs here, there is no such rock as shale - they are all mudstones...)


This Urchin beret used to be a cardigan. (Note also my new favourite t-shirt.)


These Maggie arm/hand warmers are also made from the other tweed bought by Stef for my birthday. My very first invisible joins. I feel quite proud.


And finally, the Wispa cardigan. It cost me about 50 cents to buy the crappy acrylic fibre at a sale in the Anna Templeton Centre. It's not perfect, and if I do it again I'd make several changes, but overall not bad...


I have a few other things on the go (not least the mystery late birthday present), including my first pair of socks and my first lace. However, I appear to have destroyed my hands in making my Halloween costume for next Friday, and I'm only about a quarter of the way through. Doh!

Two go wild in Newfoundland (part 2)

Continuing my discovery of the joys of foraged food, I heard last week that there was a great patch of blueberries up on Signal Hill. Wild blueberries not being something you see in the UK (though small numbers do exist, apparently), I was keen to go see what it was all about.

We were only up there for an hour and a half, and we collected 5 cups-worth of blueberries. We could have had an awful lot more but I didn't want to be too greedy. Besides, I had no idea what to do with them.


After some deliberation I decided I'd try and make some jam, despite being a complete novice, and it seems to have turned out pretty well. I only did enough to make one jar, given that it was my first attempt.

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I used:

3 cups blueberries
1 3/4 cups sugar
1/8 cup lime juice (it's supposed to be lemon, but we'd run out)

I mashed half the berries in a pan, then added the rest of the ingredients. The mush was then boiled on a medium heat for half an hour or so, till it started to thicken.

I then poured it into a clean, heated jam jar and covered with cling film.

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It seems to be setting (touch wood). This is a relief as I didn't use pectin, partly because I didn't want to, and partly because I didn't have any. Apparently it's not necessary though, and lemon juice or the addition of apples or redcurrants will do the same job.

I couldn't wait for it to cool properly, and I just dolloped some slightly runny blueberry goo on some ice cream. I can report that it tastes pretty damn good, though the berries are a wee bit chewy.

I'm loving this free food lark! We still have 2 cups left, which have been put into the freezer. I'm thinking I may try these for size.


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Two go wild in Newfoundland (part 1)

I've always been a fan of the great outdoors, but I realised this week how little I actually utilise the outdoor larder. I used to fruit pick *very* occasionally in the wasteground where we walked the dog, but this was a long time ago, we only picked a few to eat on the way, and I've not even thought about it since I was about 8 years old.

This week I visited the Burin peninsula as part of a project I'll be working on this coming autumn. Whilst there we stayed in a cabin which was part of a larger campground in Frenchman's Cove. Wandering the grounds we found these marvellous things absolutely everywhere:


Had I not been with a man who knew his mushrooms, I doubt I would have had a clue. Now I feel like a chanterelle expert. Chanterelle mushrooms cost a fortune in the shops and here they were ripe for the picking, and with the campers around seemingly oblivious, this meant more for us.

Here's just a couple of tips about Chanterelles I have learned this week:

• When you collect them, don't pick them. If you cut them off with a knife they will grow back again next year (this goes for all types of mushroom).
• Chanterelles can be distinguished from their slightly more toxic 'false' counterpart (not fatal - they'll just give you a bad stomach) by their undersides. The false chanterelle has lines which go all the way from stem to edge unbroken. Real chanterelles branch (see pic below).
• When you prepare them, absolutely do *not* wash them. They will soak up the water like a sponge and taste really bland. Instead use a brush to remove dirt.

We cooked them up and had them alongside some fresh fish caught that morning, which we witnessed being gutted and filletted on the beachside. The ones I brought back I fully intend to either risotto-ise or cook up with garlic for a lovely side.

Food miles? What are they?


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Summer hiatus

This summer has probably been one of the most action-packed of recent years. Back in the days of university and, in particular, the dreaded thesis (*shudder*), summer holidays were in short supply and I think I went about 6 years without one (not counting parental visits).

This year, though, I've been operating the 'change is as good as a rest' policy, as I've been travelling all over, but not actually having any proper holiday time. I left Newfoundland in mid June to return to my alma mater. This was originally supposed to have been to prepare for our fieldwork in Libya, but due to a hiccup with Visas we ended up organising a field season in Croatia instead. A week after I arrived in Birmingham I began the 3 day drive to Hrvatska, accompanied only by a vast array of machines that go *bing*, and a passenger with a great knowledge of Roman North Africa and early Christian churches, but no driving licence.

What followed was an epic catalogue of disasters. We should have known something was up when we were met in Germany by torrential rain and roadworks. It seemed the entire road network through Germany, Austria, and Slovenia was under construction. Still, we made good time and arrived in Split only to get horribly lost in the one way system due to the 'European' coverage sat nav - Mrs Miggins - only operating as far as the Austrian-Slovenian border.

The first couple of days we went out to Sveti Spas in the Cetina Valley, only to be met by the bura (the wind that is alleged to send you mad) and some rather wet weather. Whilst not generally an obstacle for the archaeologist, when 3D scanning it is generally not helpful to have your targets blowing over and the laser bouncing off of raindrops. Serves us right for having too much whizzy equipment. We left one scan short of completing the church.

A rare break in the weather

The rest of the fieldwork, though, consisted of work in the city of Split which was great, if a little difficult working through the tourist throngs and avoiding lightning strikes during one of the worst Mediterranean summers in decades. It also involved a fair degree of extreme archaeology, and my vertigo was a bit of an issue on a number of occasions.

It's higher than it looks.

Being so reliant on technology is also a problem when the processing software licences run out the day you arrive, and your colleague drops the hard drive on the floor causing a strong burning smell and smoke. The nail in the coffin, though, was the news that our GPR specialist had contracted swine flu and was unable to travel. This meant double shifts for the poor geophysicists who were already starting at 5am.

Aside from the various setbacks, the trip was successful and good results were had by all. The drive home was not too horrendous and I treated myself to a marvellous massage once back in Brum. I still reckon I could have charged it to the project.

There then followed 2 weeks of data processing and a huge number of curries, whilst I awaited the arrival of my new Canadian work permit. Lunching with the ladies every day was a real treat and gave me time to catch up on the gossip, and I passed my 32nd birthday with no major incident.

Staying at the Pinder-Wakelam Hostelry was a delight and I still can't believe they put up with me for so long. If only all B&Bs accepted DIY odd jobs and occasional singalongs as payment. I also squeezed in a trip to see the folks in Wales and also one to Bristol where I failed to go see the Banksy exhibition due to the extraordinary queues. I did go to the marvellous Windmill Hill City Farm, though, with my dear brother and nephews. It's sad to hear that the farm is in financial trouble as it's a top notch place. A quick catch up with Trish and Olly gave me my first taste of Settlers of Catan, and I can now safely concur that it is rather ace, especially as I won.

Then via London where I met up with the lovely Jo Weeks, soprano extraordinaire, and then abused the hospitality of published author and common-law-brother-in-law Mr Paul Herringshaw. What circles I move in.

Once back in the New-found-land I volunteered to go digging on the Signal Hill historic site. As a combination of climbing a massive hill every morning and not having excavated in about 8 years, it was a bit of a shock to the system and I spent most evenings popping ibuprofen and whinging to Liam. This is particularly annoying as I am also no fitter or lighter than when I started. It was good fun though, and a real change to (1) actually find stuff (being an historic site stuff has had less time to degrade and material culture is a bit more profuse), and (2) get back to basics after the technological orgy of the Croatian field season. There's certainly a lot less potential for catastrophe. An added bonus was that the site was well-placed for whale spotting, as I saw three (a single and a pair), puffing away just off the coast. I also apparently made an appearance on the CBC news, though lacking a television I was unable to bask in the glory such fame brought.

A long way above sea level.

Today was my last day as backfilling is tomorrow and, as a volunteer, I am excused duty. I am now back to my normal life of emails and obsessively checking Facebook. Posts after today will return to the usual inane comments on my latest knitting project. That is all.




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Lard

Since coming to St John's I have seemingly grown exponentially. I don't know whether it's the weather or just getting older, but the fact remains that I am many pounds heavier than when I arrived.

So, given my previous success with it, I've decided to go back on Weight Watchers. I'm not going to meetings, just trying to count points. As I gave away my previous points-finding gadgets (i.e the cardboard thingumy) I looked online to find widgets to work out what it is I'm actually eating and I thought I'd share...

The formula is seemingly protected by patent but is also publicly available on several websites, and so I've linked to the image on the website:

Where:

p = Points; c = Calories; f = grammes of fat; and r = grammes of Dietary fibre

For the rest of the world, this translates into the following excel formula:

	A	B	C	D
1	Calories	Fat	Fibre	Points
2	(enter)	(enter)	(enter)	= (A2/50)+(B2/12)-(IF(C2>4,4/5,C2/5))

Just plonk in the numbers on the side of the packet and Bob's your Uncle.

Hope this may come in useful for some of you, not that I'm suggesting you need to, of course!





*PS the big gap is accidental, not enigmatic, and purely down to poor HTML skills. What can I say, the preview doesn't do it!