The last move?

I'm hoping so. At least for a few years now. I've made yet another drastic life-changing move, this time back home from Newfoundland to start a new job in York. For the first time in my life I have a job that won't end in 12 months' time. This is exciting stuff people!

York is ancient, beautiful and, as I discovered yesterday, home to an amazing Italian deli where I had a most excellent lunch and came home loaded with cheese and cured meats. I would heartily recommend it to any visitors to ye olde city.

Since moving back I have got into baking in a big way. I have had nothing but triumphs with this invaluable book, and given that my other half is still in Canada, I have the patience to spend two days making one loaf of bread. Worth the wait.

My Italian Bread

I have also equipped myself with rennet, mesophilic starter, a mould, and a book on Home Cheesing Making. My plan today is to make some cultures, then this afternoon maybe try out some cheddar.

Despite my new focus on domesticity, my other crafty habits aren't suffering, and I'm planning on learning to spin soon. I had a go at York Guild of Weavers, Spinners and Dyers' open day last weekend, and had a grand old time. Will this yarn obsession ever end? I doubt it.

A year in the life...

2009 has been a pretty great year. It's hard to believe that I've been living in Canada for 12 months, yet I've packed more into those than the last few years combined.

This time last year I was celebrating Christmas and New Year with my family and friends back home, and preparing to go back to work at Birmingham University to finish off the last two weeks of my contract as a Distance Learning Manager. Come January 15th and my flat was empty, and I was packed ready to go.

When I arrived in Newfoundland it was late at night, and covered in snow. Arriving without a winter coat was soon to be regretted. Still, it's been lots of fun and here are a few features of my year.

Living in a province where the snow doesn't disappear until May takes a bit of getting used to. The discovery of the existence of snow pants and yaktrax made my life much more comfortable.

The view from our front door - this is the top of the steps

Cross country skiing is fun, if a little dangerous if you have no skills.


Back in April, when the UK was having a delightful Spring, the pack ice arrived. I have never seen anything like it, and I felt positively messianic walking on water.

I walk on water. Just wait till you see my other party tricks.

After the pack ice disappeared, the iceberg came. It was lodged in Quidi Vidi Harbour for a week or so, but this was as close as we got.


A trip to Bell Island saw some impressive icicles, and some nice cruziana fossils.

These are taller than me, but I have no scale.

In June we drove to Prince Edward Island to dig up worms for L's work. During the trip we witnessed such marvels as the World's Biggest Blueberry, the PEI Potato Museum, and a lot of Anne of Green Gables-related kitsch.

World's Biggest Blueberry, Nova Scotia

In July I returned home for the purposes of field work. I had the fun of driving a big white van from Birmingham to Croatia, where we experienced the worst weather in decades. Still, the archaeology was great!

Inside Diocletian's Mausoleum, Split

On my return to Newfoundland I had the opportunity to go excavating on Signal Hill. Being more of a non-invasive archaeologist, it was a treat to handle a trowel again.

In September an intrepid group went on a camping trip to the Baie Verte Peninsula. The main purpose of which was to see the amazing steatite quarry used by the palaeoekimos at Fleur-de-Lys a couple of thousand years ago.


This wasn't the only highlight, however, as we also discovered the bizarre abandoned town of Tilt Cove, which has a murky past...



In October I took a trip to Quebec City with some archaeological reprobates. Much fun was had and large quantities of hot chocolate and poutine were consumed, whilst trying to remember my schoolgirl French.

Chez AshTon, home of poutine

The Irish Loop was the next destination as L's parents came to visit. The highlight was Mistaken Point where we got to see incredible precambrian fossils, which are soon to become a World Heritage site.

Spindle fossil, Mistaken point

Winter returned with 39.6cm of snow falling in one day in early December. We warmed ourselves with a traditional feuerzangenbowle and gift swapping for St Nikolaus.


This was followed up by a Wassail party on the Solstice and then we took part in some Newfoundland Mummering, well, the parade at least, before spending our first Christmas abroad.

Any mummers 'loud in?

So, it's been an extremely memorable year, but now I find I have to return home earlier than expected. I'm going to find it hard to leave this place.

My new favourite toy

Everyone knows I loves the yarn. Fibre makes me happy, so I was excited to be doing a short course at the Anna Templeton Centre on Floor Loom Weaving. It's 5 weeks long - 4 hours every Saturday - and I'm past the half way mark. Week 3 was when I actually started weaving. The 8 hours' setup means that I will never again question why handwoven things are so expensive!

Week 1 was working out the project, choosing the yarn, and winding the warp. We had a whole wall of yarn to choose from:



But I went with these:



The next stage was winding the warps. This one's not actually mine - I forgot my camera the first week.




Week 2 was setting up the loom.



We're using Le Clerc Floor looms, which have 4 shafts and 6 treadles. I want one of these beasts, but I doubt I have the money or the space. Threading the reed, transferring it to the loom, and threading the heddles took an age and was back-breaking.

Eye wire heddles

Threaded heddles

Week 3 I actually started some weaving.



I had a yard extra for samples so I messed about with plain weave first. I was pretty pleased with the results but my edges are fairly dire. That's what hemming is for anyway!





My proper project is in twill, so I'll post those when I'm a bit further on. I can say I'm very happy with the results though - not bad for a first try :)

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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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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Shake it like a Poladroid picture

I have become obsessed. Yet again.

This time it is with my new camera. I recently bought a new digital camera after a whole lot of trauma due to credit cards and billing/shipping addresses not matching. One of the many hazards of being a Brit abroad. Anyway, I eventually bought it in an actual shop (*gasp*) this past weekend and have been snapping away left, right, and centre. This, however, is not the obsession.

I recently upgraded to being a Pro on Flickr (sadly this doesn't actually provide you with a great improvement on your photographic skills, just more storage space). On idly flicking around I found Poladroid. It's free software that you use to create Polaroid-like images. It's great, you drag your image onto the icon of the camera, it spits out a photo, then you can shake the picture using your mouse and it slowly develops. Whether or not shaking the image actually succeeds in speeding up development time is unknown, but 1) it's fun, 2) you can sing 'Hey-Ya' loudly whilst doing it and, more importantly, 3) it really annoys Liam!

"Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it shake it..."

You can can take samples of the image at any point during the developing, and even add scratches/fingerprints to give aging effects. Anyway, here are my three favourites so far. I've cropped them but you get the idea...

Icy Window:


The rainy view out of our front window:


A random crow:

Cooking in Canada

I am not a bad cook. In fact I'd go so far as to say I'm a pretty good cook. However, for some reason, ever since I got to Canada it all seems to have gone a bit wrong. As I wanted to expand my repertoire I brought a cookery book with me, eager to try some new recipes, and to save money Liam and I have been planning our meals very carefully. What we forgot to take account of was that many of the ingredients just aren't available here, and this has led to some unsatisfying conclusions about both cooking and shopping:


1. You cannot buy Halloumi, but you can get about 25 different types of Feta.

2. Havarti is not an adequate substitute for Halloumi, and will melt and burn all over your pans.

3. Strong cheddar is basically tasteless plastic, unless you pay extortionate sums in a specialist 'shoppe'.

4. Guessing the Fahrenheit/Celsius conversion is not a sensible thing to do, and proper calculations should be done (see nos.4 and 5)

4. Macaroni cheese (or Marconi cheese as we now like to call it) does not like to be cooked for too long in a too cool oven, or it turns into an inedible solid

5. Spanish omelette shouldn't be cooked in a pan that's too hot or it burns very quickly indeed, setting off smoke alarms and annoying the neighbours

6. You can't really buy decent cordial/squash here. Our first buy was "tropical punch" that basically tasted overwhelmingly of almonds, making me constantly suspicious that Liam was attempting to poison me

7. Cider vinegar is not a good substitute for actual alcoholic cider in cooking, and will burn your eyes in the process

8. 'Broiling' is actually grilling, despite what it sounds like, but the 'Broil' setting on our cooker doesn't actually work, rendering this discovery rather pointless


I'm sure I've left some off, and will no doubt return to the theme in a later post. I rather suspect that this won't be the end of my culinary disasters...


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Ce n'est pas un Bonaventure

This cold weather lark takes a bit of getting used to. I knew it wasn't going to be nice temperate British weather but I had thought that the snowier-than-usual winter that we've just had in the UK would go some way towards preparing me for St John's. I was wrong.

As Liam has already pointed out, this city doesn't seem to be made for the pedestrian, with most pavements consisting of either huge hills of snow (redistributed from the roads), or treacherous ice-runs. The latter makes our regular milk run fairly 'interesting' as the person in the corner house never grits their section. How very un-neighbourly.

There are hidden dangers on the pavements. The worst being the compacted ice under the snow, which is often very lumpy, and can see your legs flying out in odd directions just when you think it's a nice crunchy safe bit. I have a fear, and that fear is that I will slide on the ice and my protruding leg be run over by a huge 4x4. This is, of course, fairly unlikely, particularly as Canadian drivers seem to be a lot more considerate, but it doesn't stop me worrying.

We have developed a few coping strategies, though, one of which is a sort of semi-skating manoeuvre that's particularly good for flat icy runs, but less good when any kind of slope is involved. Given that St John's is almost entirely made up of slope, this is therefore a problem!

We have been trying out various ways to get to campus in order to isolate the optimal route as regards distance and treacherosity. The most hated one of these so far is down Bonaventure Avenue. I can safely say that they (in the style of Greenland) have marketed it misleadingly. It is a fairly steep slope, a major road, and lacks any kind of supporting device (such as fence) to prevent you sliding uncontrollably downhill or into oncoming traffic. It is in no way fun or pleasant, though it is certainly an adventure, of sorts.

Worse than this, though, was my Downtown experience last weekend. We were out on an explore (I wanted to find my local yarn shop, which turned out to be an epic journey). On the way the heavens opened and we experienced our first proper NL rain. It was torrential. The fact that it was warm enough to rain, however, did not prevent all of this rain turning into ice. The pavements were bad enough, but stepping onto one road I discovered it was one giant ice sheet. Though I stood still on the edge of the road, I found myself sliding down the hill and had to do some ridiculous manoeuvres to propel myself across the road without falling on my arse. It was fun with a very small "f" (as my parents would say).

Today I am hoping to have experienced the last of the 'fear'. On our way to campus this morning we stopped at a drugstore and purchased 'clickers'. I don't know what the official name for them is (perhaps a 'traction device'?; there's a brand called YakTrax but I don't have those), but they are a marvel of modern science. As soon as I put them on over my boots I felt an overwhelming sense of wellbeing as my tension and panic subsided. It was kind of how I felt last Friday when I finally got myself a proper outdoor coat rather than relying on the trusty old Birmingham University hoodie I'd been wearing in -11 and wondering why I was a bit chilly.

I'm actually now looking forward to the walk home. Now all we need to deal with is the wind.


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There's no such thing as bad weather...

...just bad clothing.

I found this out to my cost yesterday. My first day in St John's we walked from Quidi Vidi Lake to Memorial Campus. In the snow it took about an hour, and during the course of the walk I realised that jeans are extremely inappropriate as a bottom half. As my thighs began to sting and I lost feeling in my bum I regretted being so unprepared.

Turns out that I arrived in NL just in time for one of the coldest winters in Atlantic Canada seen in a while. I can't even begin to think what it's like on the mainland in far lower temperatures. What did surprise me though is how the locals seem to deal with the cold. I expected them to be completely at home and skipping merrily across the ice in t-shirts. Instead people seem to drive everywhere and stay indoors. I've never seen a shopping centre so empty on a Saturday. I may have it wrong but it felt more like Sundays used to feel back in the 80s when nothing was open. Curious!

Anyway, I am now equipped with insulated troosers which should keep my nether regions suitably unbitten by frost. I shall report back on their efficacy ;o)



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Decluttering for fun and (no) profit

It's coming dangerously close to the time that I'm supposed to be escaping the UK but it still doesn't feel like I'm really going. The main reason for this is that I'm still waiting for my work permit to arrive and I can't book my flight without it :o(

Despite this, I've been furiously clearing the flat and my office, putting things into storage, and culling the things I really don't need. I am incredibly impressed with my ruthlessness even if I say so myself!

So far I have taken two very full car loads to the charity shop, though this was problematic as I was being turned away due to overflowing stock rooms! It makes me think a large section of the community can't be that affected by the credit crunch if they are getting rid of their stuff for free after getting lovely new shiny Christmas presents...

I've brought in bag fulls of various belongings to work (bags of fabric, toiletries, clothes, stationery, butane (!)) to foist them off on my friends, and another friend came round for dinner this weekend and left with a giant box of houseplants, baking ingredients, and ornaments.

It's extraordinarily liberating. Apart from the stress of having to do it to a deadline, I'm finding the whole process of house clearance good for the soul. When I started to tot up the actual value of what was going it became too scary though and I had to have a sit down and cup of tea. But then it was pointed out to me that I should just consider it a big charity donation and not worry about whether I'd have to re-buy everything I'd just given away. Anyone that knows me will realise what a big step this is for me. I am a hoarder, and a miserly hoarder at that.

The office is a whole other ball game. Six years-worth of photocopied articles, notes, books, out of date software, mystery cables, the list goes on. Whilst I kept all my photocopied articles from my PhD as I still work in that area, one of the hardest things I had to do was recycle my old university notes from my undergraduate course back in 1995-8. As I still work in archaeology I found it really difficult to think that, although I'd not looked at them since, that they might come in useful for planning my own teaching in the future (though was I ever really going to be teaching about Ancient Western Asia or European Prehistory?). Still, in the recycling sack they went. I've just filled my third...

As one of life's collectors I'm finding, surprisingly, that I'm really enjoying a life without "stuff". I'll be starting again with a clean slate (well... two full suitcases), and I'll be desperately trying not to buy. I'm finding it therapeutic, but not so much that I want to be doing it all again when the time comes to return!



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Recently Discovered Earth*

* (c) Liam Herringshaw 2008


Well, where to start? I appear to have completely lost my mind. I am giving up a well-paid job to move to a country where there is 10 months of winter and 2 of summer, and very few job prospects for an archaeologist.



My other half has been given a two-year post at Memorial University in Newfoundland and, after nearly 3 years of frequent visits up to Aberdeen I've had enough of killing the environment with my frequent flying. Commuting to Canada for weekend visits is a step too far...

To cap it all I'm moving over in mid-January, which is possibly the stupidest time to go, given the pack ice, sleet, and general arctic nature of the place. I think this excerpt from the current Provincial anthem sums it up nicely:

When spreads thy cloak of shimm'ring white,

At winter's stern command,

Thro' shortened day and starlit night,

We love thee, frozen land,

We love thee, we love thee,

We love thee, frozen land.

When blinding storm gusts fret thy shore,

And wild waves lash thy strand,

Thro' sprindrift swirl and tempest roar,

We love thee, windswept land,

We love thee, we love thee,

We love thee, windswept land.

Of course there's every opportunity for things to go a bit wrong: I don't have a job lined up properly or a work permit, but these are mere trivialities and I won't let that get in the way of my excitement. Come February I may still be in the UK and regretting handing in my notice but fingers crossed this won't be a problem. I have more things to worry about once I get there:

1) permanent frizzy hair due to sleet and wind
2) premature skin aging from adverse weather conditions
3) contracting hypothermia on landing
4) being mauled by gigantic Newfoundland dogs
5) having to tie down my house with rope
6) developing rickets due to Vitamin D deficiency
7) being attacked by Skraelings*

* see Saga of Erik the Red


I'm sure that many of these fears are completely unfounded... except the dog one ... ;o)