I'm in London! Also, Tuesday — Tuesday 17 January to Wednesday 18 January

And the plan is to stay out of the hostel as much as is humanly possible. My room smells funky, probably because it's a mixed dorm for, I think, 18 people. Whatever. I'll change in the shower and wear myself out during the day so that the smell doesn't bother me when I sleep. And it could be worse; it could smell like booze.
So, yesterday I went to a yarn store and got some really pretty yarn that I can't decide whether to keep or give to my mom for her birthday. I also found three bookstores and bought too many books. I did turn down the compilation of Jane Austen novels that was only £3 because it was way too heavy to pack home, but the others needed me.
Josie and I went to the museum, which has no less than three mummies in the egypt section and also some Picasso ceramics, which were kind of boring. It was a pretty good way to spend 45 minutes.
I also experienced a pie shop (urban pie), which reminded me of the mind and hearth at whitworth. It just had a really nice, chill, university-y atmosphere. The music was low-key, the light was good, and the staff was no older than 25. I also made crepes that were really weird. It turns out that Josie's flour was self-raising, so I got really thin american-style pancakes instead of "traditional" pancakes, i.e. crepes. They still tasted pretty nice.
I took pictures!

Where is Batman?

The houses in Leicester were really cool.

Josie's house. It's a monster.

That's Oscar. He cuddled with me. 

So today, after a crazy dash through the train station, I caught my train with about two seconds to spare and dozed all the way to London. I got my luggage off in a much more leisurely fashion, then tried to drag them through the station.

It was a nightmare. My luggage doesn't like being nice. I didn't have quite enough cash on me to pay for a taxi, and by the time I had cash again, I couldn't find any taxis.
In the end, the nicest lady in the world actually helped me carry my luggage to the hostel, which, while pretty close to the station, is nowhere near enough. I thanked her profusely several times.

I'll probably put up pictures pretty regularly, but we'll see about when and stuff. Now I'm going to hide my computer and go for a stroll after eating some bread. Sorry about the disjointedness of this post, but I'm pretty tired after the luggage debacle. I have blisters on my hands from the big bag+carry-on combo.

A Walk In The Park, And Also Food — Sunday 18 December to Wednesday 21 December

Before I get into the post, I have a blog post from a kindred spirit, at least as regards my crepe stand plan. I can't find the post where I detailed my plans to open a crepe stand if the whole scientist thing falls through, but I think it was pretty detailed. If anyone has information on where I talked about that, please let me know. It's bugging me.
Sunday, I went back to Barnes Park. I think I've mentioned it to at least one person who reads this, but I'm not sure. I didn't have my camera the first time I went here, so I kind of had to go back.

This is the big grassy area before the park. Good for dogs, kites, frisbee games, and football games.
The lensflare/glory rays were completely accidental. I wasn't even looking at the screen at the time, due to the sun being really bright. 

Some of the toys, which were all at the front of the park.

This was to show off the snow behind the gate. I don't know what the big, flat depressions are. They have stairs, so they might be for sports... It was also really icy; this walk in the park was no walk in the park.

That turned out to be something called a "stumpery", for the purpose of growing ferns like the victorians did. I think this whole park has been restored to something resembling its presumably victorian glory days.

The lake has a set of stairs leading down from it. I don't know why.

Frozen lake. I tossed a rock, and it bounced.

Ducks!

Okay, this tree bothers me. I see them around, but I don't know what they are or why people like them. They resemble pines from a distance, but up close...

It looks like something that should have been extinct for a really long time.

Do not like.

I was going to walk by the gazebo, but I think I would have ended up with a broken something, or maybe some more bruised cartilage.

Up there is the large grassy area from the beginning of the post. It goes very up, and this part of the park also goes a little down.

I brightened up the picture to make the cool bridge in the middle less invisible, but I might be able to see it just because I know it's there.

I love this funky little structure. If I'd had more battery, I'd have taken more pictures. Alas... 

Prettiness! In Sunderland, even!

I had planned to go further, but with the battery issue and the fact that it was really friggin' cold, I decided to go hunt down the cafe that I'd seen signs for at the park entrance and see what they had in the way of hot drinks. What I found was more of a small kitchen behind a candy-and-crisps counter. Fortunately, the kitchen contained a coffee pot, a hot water pot, possibly a microwave, and a friendly local. It had been a while since anyone commented on my accent, and I soon found myself chatting with a stranger (not for the last time) about my Christmas plans. I got a cup of hot chocolate with a generous portion of whipped cream on top, and it was pretty good, even if it did get grainy at the bottom and didn't do much for my hands freezing off. It was tiny, but cheaper and rather better than anything I'd get at starbucks, and also whipped cream.
That night, after my hands thawed out, I made plans to get up early and Do Things on monday. My christmas plans took form, from an abstract list to a firm idea of what I needed.

Monday, I got up before 9 AM and Did Things. I walked down Pallion, the startling street behind Clanny, and found cash, chestnuts, and a sweet shop in the style of Badger Canyon Herbs and Tea. I got some weird candy, in lieu of candy canes, my main objective. I realised that, although I'd planned to get fruit and soup makings monday, it would be a week before I'd end up using them. So, I ended up getting candy and nuts. I also went to the area outside the Bridges (mall just down the road from the university) and hunted for a tacky Christmas sweater, but they didn't have anything. I mean, there was plenty of tacky, but no Christmas.
I was disappointed, but I headed for the bookstore across the bridge. I'd seen it, but couldn't remember the name. I could, however, remember that it is on the road that the bridge is on, so I walked across the bridge with some chips from a fish and chip place outside the bridges.
I cursed myself for forgetting my camera as I walked across the Wearmouth bridge, which I've been wanting to photograph, and also saw the gorgeous-looking park thing underneath the bridge (I've made plans to go back, initially on tuesday, although that got scrapped when I woke up sick, but more on that later).
The store was closed. I almost got killed by cars three times trying to get to it, and it was closed.
Unbelievable.
Well. Maybe it was just closed for lunch... I began my hunt for the St. Peter's campus, a place I'd been exactly twice, and one of those was on a bus. The other time was when we skipped the treasure hunt during orientation and got lost on our way there before coming at it from the kind of opposite direction (almost exactly four months ago; it doesn't seem like that long ago that I didn't know some of my favourite people). I ended up getting slightly lost in a residential area, but kept following the sidewalk in hopes that I wouldn't have to turn around and go all the way back.  Luck was with me, and the sidewalk dumped me out by a sign that said University.
St. Peter's is a lot prettier than City Campus. The libraries aren't much different, although the view is better from St Peter's. I looked up the "Bridge Books and Music" store, which doesn't have a proper website, and decided to try again after the lunch hour, as it's supposedly open all weekdays.
However, unless the lunch hour is really long, Bridge Books and Music is closed for the holidays, so I'll give it another shot after new years, probably. I'm a little sad that I can't find any second-hand bookstores, and the only bookstores I can find are large chains, which are invariably expensive.
I walked home, which entailed the following: almost dying three times in roundabouts, checking the charity shop for a sweater, and getting a library card to check out Hogfather by Terry Pratchett.
The library on Kayll Road (it collides with Pallion, the street of the fruiterer and three pizza places within twenty meters of each other, and I don't know why the changed the names, but whatever) is pretty limited, but they do have Terry Pratchett. It was here that I had my second discussion with a stranger over my Christmas plans; the librarian was quite friendly.

Tuesday, I woke up sick. I blame the fact that I walked, quite literally, all over Sunderland in the rain and cold. The bus wasn't there when I was, okay? Don't judge. I slept in until... late... and then dragged my sorry behind out of bed only to go downstairs and see that there was nothing I wanted to eat. I put a load of laundry in, after forgetting my detergent, and went to the supermarket that seems the least sketchy for crepe mix. I wasn't really up to making the (admittedly not labour-intensive) batter on my own.
Conclusion: I like mine better, but it was fun making the batter in a bottle.
I spent the rest of tuesday sleeping through movies, getting bored with them when I was awake, planning Christmas, and craving soup.
I drifted downstairs sometime in the evening and decided to make soup happen. Micha left gobs of pasta, and we have a bunch of leftover vegetable bouillon from various and sundry theme nights, and Josie left lots of frozen vegetables...
It was pretty good. While chicken noodle soup was kind of out of the equation, vegetable noodle soup was pretty darn good. I think it was the noodles in hot broth thing that did it for me.
Today, Jessi redeemed herself for every time she was a horrible, insensitive, ranting b-word. She was nice to me when I was sick, and that makes up for every argument I've had to lose to preserve the lack of hostility in my room. She's lent me quite a bit of money over the course of Ireland and me not having change for laundry a few times, too. I was in a good enough mood, also triumphant after making soup, to play go fish and lose at egyptian rat race twice (blasted sandwich rule; I cursed it even when I remembered it). Jessi's not a very good winner or loser, but she was very nice when I was sick...

Wednesday, I would have stayed in bed forever, but we were supposed to have a fire alarm test, which means the incredibly loud alarm going off for three to six seconds over five to fifty second intervals for one hour. It's the most miserable time to be trying to be lazy. I decided to do my mall shopping: I got a santa hat to make up for my lack of a sweater, some mince pies that I'm hiding from Jessi until after christmas, at which point she can finish them, some fancy cheese, crackers/biscuits, lentils, sparkling white grape and peach juice (non-alcoholic; I wasn't sure if I'd be able to find any non-alcoholic cider, so I went with the first sparkling thing that reminds me of christmas that I could find), a whole lot of tomatoes, and a strange melon that I've never attempted to eat, to my knowledge.
I should explain the tomatoes. I've taken to reading food blogs; not sure how that happened. I think I was looking for a spiced cider recipe when we planned out Christmas Night, and ran across Accidental Hedonist, who had a guest writer a while ago who writes a blog called Tomato Kumato.
As I read through Tomato Kumato's archives, I find myself resonating with Emily, who's lived all over the world. No, I've never lived in or even been to New York, Toronto, or Paris, but I do know how it is to have so many "homes" that it gets a bit confusing. I know how it is to wish that you could stay in your new home, with your new friends, new cultural norms, and new habits. I know how it is to want to make your own place in a big world. I've been forcing myself to stop looking eagerly at "to let" signs that pepper Sunderland.
Of course, Tomato Kumato is a food blog. Emily posts a lot of recipes (including one for garlicky tomato soup), and I'm almost quivering with anticipation for cooking my Christmas food. Then I got sick, and felt like a master chef when I managed to scrape together tuesday night's soup. I decided that I could make a garlicky tomato soup from scratch, especially after reading about someone who's been cooking with fresh vegetables. I've always been one to jump on a bandwagon, so two pounds of tomatoes came home with me.
Unfortunately, I have no food processors at all. Josie took her potato masher with her when she moved out, and we certainly don't have any kind of blender. Of course, I was far too excited to bother with this, figuring that I don't mind a few chunks of tomato or some tomato skins in my soup.
I'll just skip to the end... It wasn't the texture that got me, it was the salt. I think I got my salt requirements for the week out of that soup, even though I tried putting potatoes in it. It was okay if I dipped some bread in it.
So, note to self: Don't try roasting tomatoes for soup until you have food processing equipment. Also, the garlic would have been garlickier if you hadn't roasted it. Since the point of the dish was to clear your distressingly clogged sinuses with a blast of garlic...
In any case, I don't feel sicker. Actually, I think I'm doing a lot better. I'm on quite a culinary trip. I made latkes while waiting for the soup, something I've wanted to try since I read the story "Latkes for Dixie" in Highlights (Dixie was the family dog, a collie, if the illustrations were to be believed). I finally pulled it off, although I have no idea if they tasted right, never having had any before. In any case, they were the success that the soup was not, and I enjoyed them with leftover apple sauce from Christmas Night.

Oh, Christmas plans... I wouldn't normally share the details beyond "watching some christmas movies and generally relaxing while my roommate's off with her family, and I'll be skyping with the family sometime and eating delicious food" except I'm getting really excited about this, in spite of the fact that I can't find candy canes anywhere.
Friday the 23rd, I'll be reading Hogfather and then judging the movie.
Christmas Eve, I'll be watching Polar Express before midnight and trying not to finish the whole bottle of sparkling grape juice. I'm torn between ordering chinese and just eating some cheese (I have a lot of cheese), bread, and apples. I'll have mince pies and cookies, in any case.
Christmas morning, I'm making the berry strudel that's been in my freezer drawer for a few months for breakfast before heading to St Gabriel's (Anglican church just down Kayll Road) for the 10:30 service.
Lunchtime will be leftover strudel and the cheese combination. I'll probably watch more Christmas movies, and I will put on my hat.
At some point in the day, I'll be skyping with my family.
Dinner will be a grand soup. I'm getting so excited about this soup. It will have everything. Lentils, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, hopefully courgettes (british for zucchini; I kind of wish Americans had picked up on the french version instead of the italian one), mushrooms, garlic... And more!
And bread. I just need to find some and hope that the place I get it from is open the day before Christmas eve. I'm thinking I'll get some not-all-the-way-cooked baguettes from aldi Thursday, just in case. I'll eat it eventually, I'm sure.
Then... I haven't planned. The great soup might be before the skyping; it might be after. For all that I've laid this all out, I'm not sure what goes in the middle of the things I'm doing.

I've got batteries, so I'll be putting up more Christmas pictures soon. And, with any luck, I'll be feeling like I can go outside without needed to wear all my clothes even though it's not that cold out (so much for all that "worst winter on record" stuff, unless "worst" is actually defined as "most disappointing").

Christmas; Joy and Sadness — Tuesday 13 December to Saturday 17 December

So, on Tuesday I found out that I had my history exam a month earlier than expected, and most of my day was consumed by revising (studying) for that off the back of the how-to-revise lecture (luckily, I had already procured and wrapped my secret santa present). It was a two-question essay exam, so I needed to look up some basics on three or four topics and the details on some primary sources (historical documents we've looked at in class) so that I would be prepared for anything the exam threw at me. For a study break, I made crepes in a wok that I bought against the possibility that all the good skillets would be gone. I felt pretty good about the wok: it only cost £2, doesn't burn the crepes, and only tilts a little bit when empty (unlike the other skillets that I got for £2, which tip over when empty because the pan is lighter than the handle). I accidentally stayed up late, but I managed to wake up on time to make the 10 AM exam time on Wednesday.

My professor, however, missed her metro and was 10 minutes late, which sent me into a pre-exam panic. I always have these panics, but this one was forestalled by the fact that I didn't know about it until the day before. The main topics that my brain freaks out about are:
1. Is it really today?
2. Am I in the right room?
3. Was it really scheduled for this time?
4. Oh, God, I should have checked my email before I came!
Usually, my freakouts are ended by the presence of the other students and/or the proctor of the exam being in the room at the time that I show up. This time, I was the only student in the room, and the proctor wasn't there.
PANIC!
Fortunately, she showed up and I sat the exam with no panicky blank stare moments.
After this, I prepared for Christmas night. I snuck my present downstairs, and waited around for Adam to come and take Josie and I shopping for food.
He took a while.
We finally got to Asda and had a great time navigating the awkward store set-up with crazed christmas shoppers filling the aisles.
When we got home with £70 of loot, Josie hurriedly put the 3 kg (~6 lb) pork roast with a thick layer of crackling fat into the oven, since it was going to take 3 hours to cook and it was almost 17:00. Bad Adam. Then we all kind of had to knock around for a few hours until the squash, yams/sweet potatoes, and potatoes were ready to go in, and I had to wait until 10 minutes before everything was done to heat up the quorn lamb things that I got for Felicity and myself.
Before Felicity came over, we had the gift exchange. Here's a picture of all the presents looking very nice around the £5 tree:

Josie got the redeem code for the X-Factor winner's single on iTunes from Conor, Conor got a Daft Punk CD from Flo, I got a book and a "Tea Deck" of cards with info about tea from Jessi, Adam got a bunch of CDs that Josie thought he would like as well the Coldplay album with his new favourite song on it, Jessi got a bright, fluffy scarf and irish coffee from me, and Flo got an "insult-a-day" calendar from Adam. I'd call the presents a success. I was impressed that Jessi and I managed to draw each other and then keep it a secret.
Here's the Christmas decorations that we put a ton of money into (nothing cost more than £5):

The rest of the tree. It has lights, but the batteries went out.

The tinsel garland looks cooler from this angle, trust me.

This was supposed to be another garland, but instead it's an awkward little tree that sits in the back of the kitchen.

Fairy lights around the board, and the tree.

Three things in this photo... Let it snow!, the Christmas moose that faces the window. and fairy lights held up with sticky tac. And the tail end of Merry Christmas on the other window.

One of the stars that Jessi's mom sent.

Jessi's advent calendar. The bags have dates on them and candies inside them.

The other star is in the window. We get some cool shadows from that.

That was the Joy part of the post.

Thursday, I slept in until 2 because my lectures were cancelled, then went and hung around Sunderland with Freya, who is slightly devastated by the fact that I'm leaving in a month. I'm impressed, since I'm a terrible conversationalist...
When I got back in, I knocked around the flat a little, then went to have another boring night of trying to update the blog and watching movies until the wee hours.
I got a text at 19:30 that Grandpa had passed on two hours before, and I spent the rest of the night trying to come to grips with the situation. It's really weird for me, being over here. I don't have the close connection with family that facilitates mourning, and I'm not really one to sob and scream when I'm upset. So I watched sad movies that would let me cry and wondered why I felt so disconnected. I didn't really tell anyone, unless they brought it up, since I don't know how to broach the subject. It's not much of a conversation-starter, and I'm not looking for people to tell me how sorry they are that a man they never knew isn't there anymore, even if I do appreciate the sentiment. I know that I'm sorry on behalf of others when people close to them that I never knew pass on, but I always feel awkward when that comes up. I think this is part of the disconnect.

I thought about canceling with Freya for Friday, since she wanted to hang out again and do "stuff" but decided against it. I needed to get out of the flat. I did have a good time; had some good pizza, saw some cute rabbits and a cute puppy, laughed... I felt a little like a traitor to Grandpa's memory, but I made up for it by looking up the stages of grief and analysing my feelings later that night. And don't worry, Mom and Dad, I'm not going to let this ruin the whole trip, I promise. I'm not going to just bury my feelings (NOT healthy, I know, I've tried it before), but I'm going to let myself have a good time when the opportunities present themselves and have some sad times when I need them.

Saturday, Josie moved to Leicester (pronounced "Lester"), which was like the end of freshman year at whitworth on a more permanent level. I sat around making little sad puppy noises, like the weird little alien from Star Trek (2009) makes when Scotty and Kirk beam onto the enterprise. Josie's kind of the fun one in the group, but I guess I'll be visiting her in Leicester (I cannot write that without pronouncing all the parts: Lie-sest-er) in January, maybe for new years, maybe later. But still... It's like the end of things. Also, the flat will be pretty empty during break. Conor is in Germany, Adam's going to be home for most of it, Josie's in Bedford (where James' home is), Micha's going home on Tuesday, Thomas is probably in Ireland, Florian's in Germany, and Jessi's going to be staying with her parents when they come to visit. Okay, that last part makes me happy, but everyone else being gone is kind of sad.

In other news, I didn't get dressed today. By the time I woke up, it was going to be dark in two hours anyway, and the library trip can wait for tomorrow. I did get up, eat breakfast, go outside, drink three or four cups of tea, and I'm going to eat proper dinner, but my purple plaid flannel pyjama pants and tank top are perfectly decent for knocking around the flat on a saturday.

A long week of skipping class and getting stuff done, and Northumberland — Weekend to Friday 18 November

First off, I would like to apologise for the parenthetical abuses on Thursday. I'd also like to apologise for the soul-killing that happened Thursday. I just kind of need to get this off my chest, because I'm terrible at telling stories out loud and I don't want to foist this on my flatmates. There are pictures of Northumberland at the end! Hang on until Friday!

This weekend all I did was sleep. I did take a walk in the fog, but that was fairly uneventful except for the part where I didn’t know where I was. Not to worry, I figured out where I was and only ambled down one dead end before I finally got back to the road with the cemetery. 

Anyway. Monday, I skipped english literature in favour of writing my assignment, and I got to 1200 words that night because of it. Apparently nothing happened at all in lecture, so all I regret is the possibility that my prof might ask why I skipped. Not because I feel guilty about skipping, but because she'll try to make me feel guilty about not having started my paper until approximately three days before it was due. She is of the opinion that she gives us a lot of useful information in an awesome way that we can really use on our assignments (not that useful, not that awesome, and there was nothing AT ALL on the topic that I picked), and she would sound so offended if she thought that I thought that the two months she gave us wasn't enough time. Okay, we read for my topic about two weeks before it was due, but okay, sure. That was more than enough time. And I would end up agreeing that her module is, like, the best thing ever when in fact it's the most horribly structured literature class I've ever taken. I feel like there were better authors during the seventeen hundreds. I'm sure of it. There had to have been. 

Tuesday I skipped history to work on the lit assignment. I got a late start because I stayed up late the night before trying to write, but I had a hard time getting many more words in, anyway. I was also on an apple cider craving, and I haven’t really seen it here. I need to check again, but I think I’m down to my last few packets, and I’m saving them for the next assignment and my history assignment. 

Wednesday, I agreed to meet Freya, the girl with whom I did extensive work on our last lab report. Before that, I read for my history seminar, went to my history seminar, and finished my essay. Win! I think the main problem was that there simply wasn’t enough to say about the criminals portrayed in the play that was related to a thesis that I could write down. When we finally started working on the lab report, it went slow. Neither of us really cares that much about electrophoresis (I usually like it, but nothing much is interesting in this class), and the results were bad, and I, at least, didn’t actually attend the lecture in which we may have learned how to interpret them. I'm not sure if that lecture even existed; the only slides up on Sunspace were ones from the seminar part. Again, there wasn't that much to say.

Quickly, before I get into Thursday, I need to draw attention to the fact that I really, really do like biochemistry. It freaks me out sometimes, like when I get oddly claustrophobic thinking about how tiny biological molecules are, and the fact that they are in an aqueous environment, so how small are water molecules, which have air dissolved amongst them... How big are the spaces between molecules, and what is in that space? How many tiny voids are in a glass of water... Are in me?

At that point, I usually have to take a massive deep breath because I realise I haven't been breathing. 

An xkcd comic that just came out really sums me up. I'm just posting the part relevant to me, but you can click the link at the beginning of the sentence to see the whole thing. It's about the type of map that people like based on what they're like, and the Peirce Quincuncial is really my thing.

No, seriously, I really love looking at hands. They are incredibly cool. To wrap this up, I really do love biochemistry. Please, please, do not take Thursday as me hating biochemistry. And there are pictures after, I promise. You can even skip Thursday, as I wish I had been able to do, and I won't care.

Thursday I finished up the lab report in the nick of time after skipping both lecture and seminar. Again. I'm really, really going to go to both next week. Really. At least this week, there was a greater purpose than sleeping in... After finishing, I went to lab, which was billed as a revision session (revision equals studying and/or reviewing here, something that I just got recently). I had high hopes of being able to leave early after being left pretty much to my own devices for a while and showing that I knew what I was doing, as happened last time we had a workshop instead of lab. Distressingly, this was not the case. Instead of Monica, the condescending lecturer who says "lineweaver" as if there's an extra R (linearweaver), we had the impossible little frenchman. I almost hope he reads this, because I think it would really clear the air between us. Unfortunately, he still has to grade two more lab reports and my final, so hopefully he never sees this. To put this in a small amount of perspective, I'm writing this after having an awesome day Friday. The post gets better, and I'm not really bitter and hateful.

Fact: I was never awfully fond of him. Initially, his inability to really express himself in english put a damper on the possibility of me liking him as a lecturer, and his subsequent displays of incompetence in understanding what anyone else is saying clinched a vague sense of dislike towards him. Normally, I can overlook this and we got along pretty well. My lack of experience with this university's procedures and previous classes seemed to put him off a little, but he was generally reasonable. Today, though, he was in a rotten mood. He snapped at everyone who came in late, which he doesn't do when it's a proper lab and time actually matters, and was generally irate and condescending. When he collected our lab reports, he grumbled over my lack of staple. A whole one lab report of mine has been stapled, and that was done by the library staff when we did that weird remote turn-in thing. I put my name on every page, and it's never been a problem before. I'm also kind of trying this thing where I don't spend money, so I haven't bought a stapler that I will just have to leave here because I already have one in my desk in Pasco. I was in a pretty good mood, and commented that I didn't have a stapler. 

"Buy one." Instantly, I was on the offensive. I went from a little nervous about how short my report was to stiff and speechless with rage in about a heartbeat. It was like that time in high school when I was literally shaking with fury when some smug little middle schooler punk insulted a friend who was doing something right. I don't usually get the urge to "slap that smug little look off your (demi-or-straight up-swearword) face". In fact, I think this has happened about twice in my whole life now (in real life; that scene in King Arthur where the bishop tells Arthur to bring his men home if he wants them to get their freedom doesn't really count because it was designed to do that to people; I looked for a video clip on youtube but couldn't find it). Twenty one years is kind of a long period of time to have something happen only twice. I don't really know why the impossible little frenchman brought this out in me today over something as stupid as a stapler. I know I respond poorly to insult and the "wrong" tone of voice, and, on occasion, an irate eyebrow twitch in my direction, but I can't help myself when it sneaks up on me. I'm not proud.

I quickly determined that I was unlikely to get out early because the impossible frenchman explains in great detail every single aspect of some questions (he actually went into the properties of light when explaining spectroscopy, using terrible metaphors and analogies. It was worse than Dr. Gårdestig the swedish physics professor; he started off with a random green beach to talk about waves. I still don't know where the beach came into it. His accent made it slightly hilarious (because the long e sound gets kind of turned into a short i sound, haha, he said a dirty word), but not funny enough to excuse the fact that this isn't helping anyone.) while skipping over others completely. One of the questions involved an equation that we'd never seen before, which was... messed up. Unless they're handing out an equations sheet, I don't want to see this nonsense on an exam. We haven't used this ever before, so don't put it on the exam. kthnxbai. 

He'd been slipping in composure throughout the slightly too long time that we were given to work on select questions, but he lost it about two questions in. Two guys didn't seem to be paying attention (was anyone?) to his oddly detailed and unhelpful explanation, so he "asked" if they wanted to leave. Of course they wanted to leave. Everyone did. We'd all been plotting it every time he walked out of the room, which he did quite a lot. In any case, the atmosphere in the room was awkward and chilly as Adam (not from my flat) and Jedward walked out rather triumphantly (although they still looked a little embarrassed; getting kicked out of class gets kind of old after grade school). This didn't stop Freya, who was giving me a ride home, from trying to talk to the girls at the end of the bench. Things got more and more awkward as the class dragged on. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone. War was being declared on the impossible frenchman, who should have followed his country's historical precedent and surrendered. I did get a hint on how enzymes work, although I need to look that up sometime, but that was all that I gained from the class. That, and a growing sense of a firm dislike for the impossible frenchman, since the incredible rage and desire to actually inflict harm on someone else subsided pretty quickly. No more vague irritation (he really is the worst at explaining anything at all, and never seems to get when someone has decided that the topic would be best pursued with someone —anyone— else. All he does then is ask repeatedly "Do you understand" (left the question mark off on purpose; he doesn't really use it) until you give up on noncommittal grunting because you hate to lie and finally say "YES! I understand, and I really have to go now, I'm late for something, anything, please let me leave now." Sorry about the long parenthetical; I'll just end the "No more vague irritation" sentence now.). 

Another thing. Freya is the type of person who will interrupt boldly as a self-preservation and diversionary tactic. If she's bored, she just starts talking, whether over the person who's talking to her or to a person who's talking to someone else. She tried to save me from the frenchman last week when I was trying to figure out why I couldn't take an exam early, but nothing stops him when he's on a roll. In light of this, it's not surprising that she gave up listening to the frenchman in favour of talking to the girls at the end of the bench, although I was, at the time, a little surprised because the frenchman had just cracked down on Adam and Jedward talking. This is when I really started avoiding eye contact with everyone. I'm pretty passive aggressive; I'd have stayed to the end of the class no matter how irritating his voice was. Besides, he had already been short with me regarding the staples (and it still makes me angry a day later, wow), and I didn't want to make things worse, especially after I had almost inadvertently insulted his teaching style in a lab report and gotten a 0 on that particular section. It wasn't that bad, and the instructions really were scattered. How else was I supposed to explain the fact that our enzyme was probably cold because he just explained here and there that you were supposed to warm it up for a bit, and my lab partner for the day didn't hear it because she was already at the front getting the enzyme off the ice? It's not my fault that he's the worst at explaining. However, I was beginning to think that the animosity was not one sided, and that, like my former podmate hating me over the hair in the shower, he hated me for the lack of staples. I didn't want to make things worse, but it might have been too late. Frankly, I get the sneaky suspicion that he doesn't like any of us. Fact: no one in the class likes him, so it's unsurprising that he'd pick up on the low-level animosity at some point. We've tested this in karate, and multiple people directing emotion at someone does tend to affect the target. I was, in any case, on damage control, trying to make as few enemies as possible.

Freya, however, was going nuts. She hadn't eaten much all day, preferring to sleep over eating breakfast, and, as mood and gastrointestinal happiness levels are related, she was in a pretty foul mood. When the frenchman insisted on a break over the class's protestations that we'd rather power through the very last question and then be done, we made an attempt to sneak out. I do say we, because I wanted my ride and I'd already put my bag with my computer in her car. Impossible frenchman kept coming back into the room, though, and he asked Freya if she was going somewhere. 

I sensed danger, and kept my head down. Freya was all the way gone, though. She was hungry, she was cranky, she was tired, and she was leaving. And my bag was in her car, so I was leaving when she left. 

She replied that she was leaving, yes. She said something about her head and started around the frenchman, who had accosted her on his way in and her way out. I didn't see what he did, but I hope he didn't turn around when I hurried out the door behind Freya. I'm still a little nervous about how this will affect my grades. We signed the register, though, and he marked us down on some sort of personal register, so I don't think I can be counted as absent from lab. I'll be needing to keep my head down, though. No more skipping lectures, and I really need to study up on biochemistry stuff that will be on the exam in spite of never being in a lecture. Yes, I'm bitter about that. I'm trying not to be bitter at people, because I know myself, but I can be bitter about poorly constructed exams.

Friday! Friday! No more Thursday! If you skipped Thursday (and especially if you didn't), PICTURES!

Adam (from my flat, not the one who got kicked out of lab) had promised a week ago to take a few of us (limited by car space) to Northumberland. In the end, it was just Jessi, Felicity (whitworth senior art major from Clarkston, WA who lives next door who I had never even seen before coming to Sunderland), and me. 

We went through a tunnel under a river. Jessi saw a van coming straight at us on a skinny road and reacted by yelling "CAR! big!" This became something of a meme for us; why did she try to describe it? "Car! Big! Green!" "Car! Big! ...Uh, it has a white top!" (this was followed by "I was panicking even more because I couldn't tell if it was blue or white!"). Jessi was a pretty good sport about it. 

We picked up Adam's dog Lilligan (it always sounds like he's saying "Lillian") on the way to a castle with a beach. She's a jack russell terrier, which Adam had mentioned in his attempts to describe how hyper she gets, but she's also long-haired, which Adam didn't mention. I was expecting a dog that looked like wishbone, but she looks nothing like that unless she's wet. 

She does get very hyper. Adam's descriptions were a little bit over-the-top, but I think that he's trying to get himself out of the centre of discussion. Two of our favourite topics as a flat are Adam's dog and Adam's mum, one of whom he is very fond and one of whom he is rather embarrassed. I think he's out of danger from demands that we meet his mum thanks to introducing us to his dog. I think that it's because he's the only one of us whose dog and family are in driving range. Most of us feel that his mum would be pretty cool to meet, but Adam steadfastly refuses to accept this. This conversation regarding Adam's imitation of Lilligan happened, however, that really highlighted his feelings on his mum: 

Jessi: "It was hilarious!"

Adam: "I don't remember this at all."

Me: "You were trying to demonstrate how terrifying she is." 

Adam: "Are we talking about my mum now?"

Felicity: "I am so glad that that segue just happened." 

After getting Lilligan, we headed for the coast and castle Bamburgh, which took a surprisingly long time. When we finally got there, though, it was well worth it.

This is the Bamburgh castle.

There were a whole bunch of island-y things out in the North Sea. We never really figured out what was on them, except probably lots of birds.

The sky was really pretty, but my camera doesn't like doing cool sky pictures.

I had some striking memories of sand traps at golf courses as we tried to find the beach.

It was quite imposing.

Lilligan. She was moving pretty fast.

Pretty sky, pretty landscape.

Gorgeous sky, nice silhouette 

Beach! Finally... 

Lilligan had this thing where she would set her stick down, decide that it was buried, and start digging. The problem with this was that she kind of went backwards with the force of her digging.

It was a very clean beach. 

Imposing castle silhouette! And Adam's head in the front left corner there.

We all wrote our names in the sand and made fun of Adam's handwriting.

Jessi had fun with the dog.

Jessi was probably more fun to watch than the dog, actually.

That backwards digging thing again.

And the stick was in a tide puddle.

More castle silhouette!

We decided to storm the castle, but felt that this wasn't the best way to go.

Adam, Jessi, Felicity in front of Bamburgh village

Not storming on this side, either.

We saw a secret staircase and decided to climb it.

See that dark slit-like thing on the wall? That's where the stairs ended. There's a gate and a lot of pigeon poo in there.

I'm not sure why it has a fence around it, but it's a cool rock...

I think we tried to hop this part of the fence. We failed.

Behind the gates? Rubbish bins. Such a fancy enclosure...

In spite of our valiant attempts to scale fences and sneakily climb likely-looking walls, all the gates were locked and all the walls were either impossible for us to climb or were guarded by sneaky piles of grass clippings. After we finally gave up due to not wanting to get any more nature all over us, Jessi drove Adam's car for a while. We were doing pretty well until Adam yelled that she was turning into the wrong lane while she was turning (she wasn't), but she recovered pretty well. Felicity and I didn't get to drive because we don't know how to drive manuals. After dropping Lilligan back with Adam's sister, we went and had dinner at the pub in his hometown. The food was kind of weird, but we experienced some cultural things, like "pie" means "food with puff pastry set on top" and custard is something you pour over your food. Felicity also gave Adam some tips on how to pick up girls with his accent while he's in Maryland.

When we got home, this greeted us.

"Oh, and there's a huge spider there, if you haven't seen it."

I thought Adam was being mean to Jessi, who was up on top of the chairs on the other side of the room by the time he finished saying "spider", but it really was there.

Hence. Jessi hates spiders.

Don't worry, I killed it. Tomorrow we're going to a football match, so I'll have a new post for that.