In this strange complex of time and space anything can happen

I've been doing some more painting: this time, the gloss in the back bedroom. It seems to take forever - at least if you don't want to splurge unwanted gloss all over the walls that you have only just finished painting the week before. So I have been working my way through the pick of the last week's worth of Radio 4 comedies, and also the following Who audios:

( Radio Play: Regenerations (2001) )

( Fourth Doctor: Genesis of the Daleks (1979) )

( Fourth Doctor: Exploration Earth: The Time Machine (1976) )

( Fourth Doctor: Doctor Who and the Pescatons (1976) )

Saturday night in Oxford saw a bunch of us heading for Chicks with Decks, a sort of Indie / Punk / 80s night at the Cellar Bar: the same low-ceilinged venue as for Intrusion. redkitty23 and secutatrix sadly couldn't make it, and were sorely missed, but we did have edling, Cat, aef, violetdisregard, Spiky Neil, Jenny and even Hugh and Zara up from London.

( Oxford nights )

So, all in all, a decent enough night, but I must say the texts I got from damien_mocata when I got home, describing the crazy antics of the Belfast crowd, made me rather wish I'd spent the evening there instead...

( An easy solution to this problem )

In other news, I'm on a big Tom Lehrer kick at the moment. I've had the whole of 'In Concert' for ages, ripped very kindly from mr_flay, but decided that a good way to celebrate getting my net connection back would be to download some of his other particular gems which don't happen to be on that album. So I have been, and I leave you now with my current Tom Lehrer top five, as represented by couplets from their lyrics: ( A few seconds wasted with Tom Lehrer ) It's also worth noting that I found a flash animation of his song, The Elements while checking I had those lyrics right. Anyone who has ever grappled with the Periodic Table should click on it, now! *tootles off to watch it again*

Have just come back from dinner with my two Masters' students and three Ancient History colleagues at Café Milano. We were all very impressed by the décor: not only Domus Aurea-style trickling fountains in the background, but a tessera-for-tessera copy of the Alexandery bit of the Alexander mosaic on the floor. You couldn't get much more appropriate for a bunch of Ancient Historians, really.

The food wasn't quite up to the same standard - the duck I had was a bit rubbery, and the meringues which formed part of my dessert had a somewhat silicone texture. But no matter - it's the people that count on these occasions, and they were fine indeed. I shall miss them. Yes, all of them.

*sigh*

Well, my sister, Charlotte and her partner, Nicolas, should be in the air on their way home to England now. We had a really enjoyable weekend together: for them, mainly exploratory; for me, nostalgic.

On the Saturday, we took a coach tour up along the east coast of NI to the Giant's Causeway, Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge and other attractions. The weather really came up trumps, presenting us with possibly the hottest, brightest day I've experienced since I moved to NI, and meaning that we were more worried about slapping sun-cream on every five minutes than whether our umbrellas were going to blow away (a more normal problem round here). The sun brought out the best in the scenery: Nicolas enjoyed taking fabulous pictures of it with his posh digital camera; I enjoyed taking snap-happy ones with my £7.97 Tesco's number.

The only down-side to the day was the moment our coach juddered to a halt in the middle of the road... having apparently run out of diesel! We could have gotten pretty cheesed off with the driver at this point for being dim enough to let that happen, but he was such a good-humoured chap, who'd been cracking jokes with us all along the way, that we just took it in our stride. He did save the day, anyway, by managing to coax it back to life no less than three times - just enough finally to roll, engineless, into a petrol station in Portrush. He arranged for some people on the coach who were doing an optional extra tour of a whisky distillery (not including us) to be picked up by another driver in the area and taken onwards, while a bunch of those of us who remained pushed the coach the final four feet needed to get it within reach of the diesel pump, and pretty soon we were on our way again to enjoy our time at the Giant's Causeway.

In the end, we got home a couple of hours later than intended, but we didn't feel we'd missed out on anything we'd expected to see, so the diesel episode just became all part of the fun. I have a photo of the driver grinning sheepishly as he filled up the tank, and can now say I've helped to push a broken-down coach! Oh, and I also managed to pick up excellent birthday presents for both damien_mocata and finthecat for their birthdays next weekend, which I'm pretty sure they'll love.

Today was much more lazy, after the long day yesterday. We got up around 11ish, gathered ourselves together, and headed down for lunch in the Crown Liquor Saloon. The skies were grey, and by the time we'd finished our lunch it was raining. But we decided to do the tourist bus anyway, especially when we saw that the company who do it had got their covered buses on the route in response to the weather. It wasn't much of a photo opportunity due to the rain-streaked windows, but interesting nonetheless. Finally, we had a nose around the University, and the Botanic Gardens given that the rain had eased off again, and then it was time to drop them at the Europa bus station for their bus to the airport.

That's the last time I'll act as host in NI, and funnily enough it was for the exact same two people that I hosted in Oxford for the last time before I left there last year. The next person who arrives to see me here will be my Dad, with a big van ready to take me home. Home? Yes - it still is, is the honest truth.

Last night I marked my 29th birthday by meeting up with some people in Duke's, going on for dinner at Scalini's and then returning to Duke's for further drinking and chatting at the end of the evening. I had a fabulous time - the food was delicious, the company delightful and lots of lovely people kept giving me presents and cards! Thanks so much to everyone who came and helped me to celebrate.

Scalini's is an Italian restaurant, which I picked as a venue because it has a good range of food and was pretty central and convenient for most people who would be coming. I didn't expect it to be as busy as it was last night - on a Tuesday night, I'd pretty much assumed our party of 11 would account for a good quarter of the clientele. But far from it - in fact the place was heaving, and although it was hard to tell how many people were there because it is so big and has so many different levels and nooks and crannies to it, I'd say our lot probably constituted more like about 5% of the people in there.

( Loving and detailed descriptions of the food ) Inspired by rentaghost31, I took a picture of the profiteroles on my phone to record their gigantitude for posterity, but I don't have any way to get the picture off the phone and into this entry. If there's anyone out there who could get it off their own phone and email it to me if I texted it to them, I would be most grateful!

Finally, the evening was rounded off with Baileys back in Duke's, after a slight change of personnel as some people headed home and others joined us after an evening's role-playing. We enjoyed listening to Alan's tales of near-death experiences, watching thebiomechanoid bite people and generally bantering and laughing until gone midnight. Sorry I couldn't then come on and play games with those people who went off to do so - I was tempted, but restraint proved to be a good thing in the end, as I'm at least relatively compos mentis today for doing more work on my book.

I flew back from Brum in the early afternoon today, and chatted to a very nice couple on the plane who'd just been to Australia for a year.

I must say I'm glad I did decide to stay a few extra days in B'ham and avoid the Twelfth, though. There were some nasty riots in north Belfast, which are brought closer to home by the fact that I know the girlfriend of the BBC journalist mentioned in the article as having been injured in the riot. He has a shrapnel wound from a pipe bomb in his lower back, but is home now and recovering well, thank the gods.

( Aftermath in south Belfast )

I've spent the last couple of days mainly relaxing and enjoying the sunshine and the company of my parents, and also getting a few gentle bits and bobs done. I've booked my flights for my interview at Reading, and will fly back to Birmingham next Wednesday, to travel on down to Reading the next morning for the interview. I've also been reading some Geography books: specifically stuff about Central Place Systems, zones of influence, catchment areas and so on. This sort of stuff has quite often been applied in historical and anthropological contexts, and I'm using it to help me back up some of the stuff I'm saying in my book about the relationship between Roman cities and their hinterlands with a bit more authority. Then, I can show how suburbs fit into that picture.

I've also been helping Mum to decipher a few difficult-to-read words in a very interesting diary she has. It's from 1883, and is the last diary of a Birmingham doctor called James Fitzjames Fraser West, who died in mid-April of that year. He was the grandfather of my mother's step-mother, so I suppose that makes him my step-great-great-grandfather, or something. Anyway, the diary and various other photographs and documents relating to him were kept by the family, and passed to my mother when her step-mother died. She is now writing a biography of him, mainly in his capacity as a typical and well-documented example of a Birmingham medic of the period.

( More about JFFW )

For example, he had to treat a patient for a ricked back which he'd caused by lifting up his bedstead with his wife still in it: "too much conjugal affection!", he comments. Another time, while in Italy, he agreed to sing a song during an evening of billiards and music. An Italian captain accompanied him, but he comments that although the captain tried to keep to his tune, "he was very far from it all the time." Meanwhile, in St. Peter's, he measured the size of the columns by having his wife walk around one of them, and noted that it took her 80 seconds to do so.

( Deciphering the diary )

Tomorrow, I start work on preparing for my Reading interview: spurred on, of course, by the promise that if I can get enough done by Friday night, I get to spend the entire weekend reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince!

Tonight a huge gang of us went out to see Dracula at the Grand Opera House in Belfast.

( Theatrical opulence )

( The play: modernistic yet true to the book )

( Colin Baker fandom )

( Colin Baker and Richard Bremmer autographs )

Finally, it was back in three car-loads to my place, to see this evening's Doctor Who and generally hoot loudly with laughter, do Dalek impressions and throw Creme Eggs on the floor (lordy, I do hope my landlords don't read this journal!).

When I first moved to Belfast, I was told that the weather was extremely changeable here, and that people often spoke of experiencing 'four seasons in one day'.

Today, I walked into town in the early afternoon in order to do a bit of shopping. As I left my house, I sighed with pleasure at the feel of the sun's warmth on my skin, and looked up into a blue sky punctuated by fluffy white clouds. I walked town-wards for a couple of minutes, and then felt a heavy drop of rain on my eyebrow... quickly followed by a succession of several more. Hoiking my umbrella out of my bag, I looked up to see that the sky had turned a uniform iron gray, and I was surprised to hear a rumble of thunder. Being British, I carried out walking through the downpour, gamely pointing my umbrella into the biting wind which had by now arisen. A mere minute more, and a new development occurred: suddenly, the plummeting rain turned to hail. Hail, in fact, which fell more heavily and more thickly than I believe I've ever seen hail do before. Fearing for the health of my umbrella, I renounced my Britishness after all and took shelter in a bus-stop, joining a young couple in T-shirts, who were shivering and gaping in awe at the natural spectacle we were witnessing. After two minutes of mutual wowing, the hail ceased as quickly as it had begun, and I set off on my way once more, crunching and sliding a little over the layer of fallen hailstones as I did so. By the time I was approaching the town centre, five minutes later, it was warm again, and dark sections of pavement were literally steaming as the sun hit them and the melted remains of the hailstones condensed off into the atmosphere.

Next time, I think I will get the bus.

My shopping in town was fairly boring, but on the way back home I dropped into 'Rusty Zip', a retro clothing store on Botanic Avenue. There, I bought a beautiful halterneck party dress in a shiny fabric which is black in some lights and a rich, dark purple in others. I also bought a large puffy skirt, much like the bottom half of a ball-gown, in a bright purple satiny fabric. It is floor-length, and apparently designed with one simple aim in mind - to be as HYUGE as possible. I do believe that if I filled it with hot air, I could hang a basket from it and fly across the Atlantic. And I love it!

However, it has a flaw, which is that some kind of liquid has obviously been spilt over it in the past, in quite significant quantities. It's left water-marks in several places, so I need to find a suitable way of cleaning it to get these out. However, it has no washing instructions on it - in fact, I think it may be hand-made. So I'm uncertain as to whether I can hand-wash it, or whether it might need taking to the dry-cleaners. I'm also doubtful about whether they would be able to do anything about water-marks anyway, so I'm hoping I can hand-wash it.

Under the cut which follows is a scan of a section of the skirt, complete with one of the worst stains. The stripey effect in the picture is just a peculiarity of my scanner: in real life, the fabric is a smooth, shiny texture, with consistent colouring. It has a slightly crinkly feel when you rub it between your fingers, and I would guess has quite a lot of nylon in it. Underneath is a layer of white netting and a lining of thin white material which I am almost certain is nylon.

My instinct is that I probably can hand-wash this... but if anyone who knows a thing or two about fabrics would care to take a look at the scan and comment, I would be very grateful for any advice.

( Stained patch under here )

I really like what Ovid has to say about Februry 9th in his Fasti¹: so much, in fact, that I am going to share it with you here. The reference at the beginning relates to the last entry: he didn't write about every single day of the year, just the important ones.

"When, five days later, the Morning Star has lifted up its radiance bright from out the ocean waves, then is the time that spring begins. But yet be not deceived, cold days are still in store for thee, indeed they are: departing winter leaves behind great tokens of himself."
(Fasti 2.149-52, Loeb translation by Sir J.G. Frazer - also of Golden Bough fame).

It seems to fit nicely with today being the Chinese New Year: a fresh beginning is upon us, although winter ain't over yet.

Meanwhile, here in Belfast, I am starting to see crocuses in the University's flower beds (purple ones, no less), and blackbirds are singing.

Now, I return to writing about gigantic and unwieldy early Roman coins (with pigs and elephants on them - yay!) for tomorrow's first-year lecture.

-------------
1. A poem about the Roman year which describes all the festivals and astronomical developments which occur day by day... up until the end of June, that is, after which either the text is lost, Ovid never intended to write any more anyway, or he was sent into exile while the poem was still unfinished (most scholars today prefer option b).

For non-locals: Belfast is about to begin celebrating its yearly Arts Festival, which I'm told is second only in scale to the Edinburgh Festival in the UK.

For locals: below are the events I have already bought tickets to. Some I am attending with a very nice young lady named Cath; some I am thus far going to alone. So if anyone likes the sound of any of them and wants to accompany me (I'm sure Cath would be happy to meet you too), they'd be very welcome. All tickets can be bought on the festival website, unless otherwise noted.

Friday 22nd October: Gluck's baroque opera, Iphigenie en Tauride, performed by the Welsh National Opera at the Grand Opera House. Kick-off 7:30pm. I'm also going to the free pre-show talk at 6:15 in Grosvenor House, Glengall Street. Tickets direct from the Grand Opera House (02890 241 919).

Sunday 24th October: Kate Rusby at the Lyric Theatre, 7:30pm. Apparently, she sings 'folk music for people who don't like folk music', and is both talented and innovative. (I'm mainly going to this one because Cath wants to). Tickets theoretically available on the web-site, but it kept messing itself up when I tried to order them, so in the end I phoned the Lyric Theatre instead (02890 385 685).

Saturday 30th October: John Carpenter's The Thing at the Queen's Film Theatre, 10:30 pm (late showing).

Sunday 31st October (Halloweeeeeen!): The Nightmare Before Christmas at the QFT, 3pm. Theatre of Blood at the QFT, 7pm. Ed Wood at the QFT, 9pm.

Wednesday 3rd November: A play entitled Alladeen at BBC Blackstaff. Surreal multi-media performance about Indian call centres, wish fulfilment and popular culture, it sez 'ere (festival brochure...). Kick-off, 7:30pm.

Saturday 6th November: 'Songs of the Spirit' at the Clonard Monastery (no, really), 7:30pm. Haunting choral music by candlelight, including Tavener, Rachmaninov, Brucker and some unattributed spirituals.

Crumbs! I have managed to spread those out fairly evenly... but still, I hope I actually have time to fit in going to them between all my lectures. :S