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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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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How my brain works

I just put this blog through Wordle and came up with this. I'm really not sure what this says about me...

The Bikeability Neckwarmer

Ok, as promised, evidence of me actually knitting...

I've been cycling a lot recently and, as the winter months draw in, I've noticed a chill on the chest and a bit of wheeziness when it's cold out. So, to prevent premature lung-aging, stop me whinging, and generally for better wellbeing all round I decided a scarf was the thing. The problem is that I am so uncoordinated that normal scarves tend to flap about and get stuck in my wheels. Well, it hasn't happened yet, but knowing me...

Anyhoo, I've got an embarrassingly large yarn stash - I cannot throw *anything* away - so decided to use up some of it by making scrap yarn.

It’s the simplest thing in the world…

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• To create the yarn… tie together shortish lengths of scrap thread and pair two colours together to make it chunkier. It makes it more interesting when the colours overlap to get different colour combos. I used 4 colours which were paired differently every time and had different lengths.
  

• Cast on 22 stitches (though depends on chunkiness of wool/gauge)

• Garter stitch for about 62 rows or until it reaches approx. 52cm long then cast off. Try to knit in the ends as much as possible as you are going.

• Weave in the leftover ends using a crochet hook then snip to neaten off.

• The final scarf should measure about 16cm x 52cm.

• Add a toggle to secure it, et voila!

And here is photographic evidence:




And one of me sporting it. Please remind me to brush my hair next time I take a photo of myself to spread across the Internet... ;o)