Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Dissertation Madness

Yes it is that time of year again Dissertation madness has struck. I have been a little insane slightly bouncing for acceptance into local secure unit mental hospital with a couple of head desk moments like explaining to a student that 10% allowance on a word limit does not mean you can write and waffle on to your hearts content. Ie if it says 6,000 words this does not mean 21,000 of drivel. I have been so tired that I have struggled to get any knitting done. It has been an uphill battle with some students a bit like Clifton Tower hill in York (see photo). I can normally knit a BSJ in a couple nights in front of the TV but I have struggled for over a week to complete a BSJ.

This week as been a little glum with a friend's funeral but I have managed to soldier on. But I had I sort of have a week that matched the gloomy mood of the week. As things run in threes on Tuesday morning I came downstairs to a broken laptop - OMG I need my Ravelry and a mucked up BSJ. I only had 6 rows left to do on the BSJ. It was a rip rip wood chip job. I now back on row 6 from cast on. How am I going to survive with out my daily doses of Ravelry??? What no computer for a week who has chopped off my lifeline to the world?

Tuesday, 26 January 2010

Green and Gold Malaria - Aussie Day

Today was Australia Day and Last night was Burns night. As a homesick Aussie I thought I would give you some work of a modern aussie poet who expresses the problem we have as aussies and what days like today mean for us even when we are so very very far from home.

Green and Gold Malaria by Rupert McCall

The day would soon arrive when I could not ignore the rash.
I was obviously ill and so I called on Doctor Nash.
This standard consultation would adjudicate my fate.
I walked into his surgery and gave it to him straight:

`Doc, I wonder if you might explain this allergy of mine,
I get these pins and needles running up and down my spine.
From there, across my body, I will suddenly extend -
My neck will feel a shiver and the hairs will stand on end.
And then there is the symptom that only a man can fear -
A choking in the throat, and the crying of a tear.'

Well, the Doctor scratched his melon with a rather worried look.
His furrowed brow suggested that the news to come was crook.
`What is it Doc?' I motioned. `Have I got a rare disease?
I'm man enough to cop it sweet, so give it to me, please.'

`I'm not too sure,' he answered, in a puzzled kind of way.
`You've got some kind of fever, but it's hard for me to say.
When is it that you feel this most peculiar condition?
I thought for just a moment, then I gave him my position:

`I get it when I'm standing in an Anzac Day parade,
And I get it when the anthem of our native land is played,
And I get it when Mortlock makes a Kiwi-crunching run,
And when Hayden grits his teeth to score a really gutsy ton.
I got it back in '91 when Farr-Jones held the Cup,
And I got it when Japan was stormed by Better Loosen Up.
I get it when Banjo takes me down the Snowy River,
And Matilda sends me waltzing with a billy-boiling shiver.

It hit me hard when Sydney was awarded with the Games,
And I get it when I see our farmers fighting for their names.
It flattened me when Bertrand raised the boxing kangaroo,
And when Perkins smashed the record, well, the rashes were true blue

'So tell me, Doc,' I questioned. `Am I really gonna die?'
He broke into a smile before he looked me in the eye.
As he fumbled with his stethoscope and pushed it out of reach,
He wiped away a tear and then he gave me this stirring speech:

'From the beaches here in Queensland to the sweeping shores of Broome,
On the Harbour banks of Sydney where the waratah's in bloom.
From Uluru at sunset to the Mighty Tasman Sea,
In the Adelaide cathedrals, at the roaring MCG.
From the Great Australian Blight up to the Gulf of Carpentaria,
The medical profession call it "green and gold malaria".

But forget about the text books, son, the truth I shouldn't hide.
The rash that you've contracted here is "good old Aussie pride".
I'm afraid that you were born with it and one thing is for sure!
You'll die with it, young man, because there isn't any cure.'

Wednesday, 20 January 2010

Fallout from the Snow

We had a lovely enforced break thanks to the snow during the Christmas period but as a result there has been an absolute panic by students to meet the early January deadlines. One institution I work at provided an automatic one week extension the other did not even consider this option even though all the facilities were closed so students were unable to access their resources on the various campuses.

On the knitting and crafting front I have been waiting and waiting for some yarn and fibre that I ordered so that I could knit J’s version of the R’s Xmas pressie. You remember that moment of insanity I had during Christmas week were I knitted a small mans size jumper in less than 48 hours. I want to get this sweater done for the father of the boy before his birthday in March but it will be a case of holding onto the wool and not starting the project straight away as I have decided that I will use the Winter Olympics to challenge myself to complete this gorilla size project. The Dad size is 4XL and is estimated to take over 30 balls.........

Yes I will need the motivation... This weekend I am really looking forward to a spinning day with the North Cheshire Spinners and Weavers Guild in a little village called CROFT.... Yeap thats the name of the village. I have driven through the CROFT Interchange on the M6 and M62 for years and not had a clue about where the name came from. Well I am going to find this village and undertake my desired next fibre challenge to learn to spin properly.