Hefty tome

Well, it's been a long time since I looked at this blog, hasn't it. I have rather sadly been very preoccupied with my dreaded PhD.

However... I handed in my final draft last week (hehe!!) and have now been challenged by TheCatsMother to immediately start 'diverse and original blogging' again.....

Not sure I can manage that yet, but I'll give it a go. This last month's work has really drained me mentally and physically, I'm afraid. I feel like a manky old wrung out dish cloth, but I don't think it's permanent. *phew*

Firstly, a PhD Final Draft fact: I weighed it on my kitchen scales, and it's a whopping 3 and a half pounds. That's about 1.58 kilos apparently, according to some online conversion chart. Quite heavy, you know. A hefty tome indeed. I had it bound, even though it's not the final version for submission, just a cheapo plastic spine thing, but it looked fairly impressive, if I say so myself. A LOT of paper and dare I say it, a hell of a lot of work has gone into it. Does that sound like I'm blowing my own trumpet a little?? Aah well, so be it!!!!

So now I am waiting for the feedback from my supervisors, wondering what sort of workload it will bestow on me for the festive season. Until then, I've been sleeping a lot and pottering about catching up with domestic things, a bit of clothes shopping and spending my birthday gift vouchers. Guilt-free TV watching is also proving very pleasant, the current run of Diagnosis Murder repeats are becoming a nice little habit. Unfortunately, I also seem to be dreaming about this imminent feedback, which isn't very nice, but I guess a bit of stress goes with the territory. Ah well, not long to go until it's over....

It would be too boring to post a pic of my thesis in all its weighty glory, so here's one of some 1970s Osmonds Letraset transfers that the lovely Dr Helen McCookerybook sent me a while ago. Some imaginative ideas for how to use your Popstar Watchits given in the packet include sticking them on your makeup mirror, on your favourite shirt buttons and on the toes of your platform shoes. Perhaps most spookily, it pre-empts today's grown-up nail art trend by several decades by suggesting you stick the small ones on your fingernails.

PS The Osmonds transfers aren't just a random bit of ephemera to fill up a blog post, you know. There is logic buried in there... today happens to be Donny Osmond's birthday.

Microbes and becoming a troglodyte

My recent interest in microbes was a result of going to an event linked to an exhibition at the Royal Institution. It was a science/art crossover thing that consisted of various artists exploring themes in collaboration with scientists from different fields. It was interesting to hear scientists extolling the virtues of bacteria, as I'd never thought about them before, other than in relation to obsessive modern health / disease prevention / sanitary product adverts on the TV / potential OCD scenarios.

I went because there were various people connected with my workplace in the exhibition, but I liked Anne Brodie's work best, although we didn't get to see the whole project. She created photographic portraits by illuminating the faces of her sitters in a darkened photobooth with containers of specially cultivated bioluminsecent bacteria placed near their faces. The bacteria emitted enough light to enable slightly eerie photographs to be taken. These portraits were projected onto the wall of the old lecture theatre when we went to the event, as the photobooth had been dismantled by then. I was disappointed that we couldn't get to see the actual containers of glowing bacteria which sounded fascinating. It was interesting to see something like bacteria used as a tool to create something both commonplace and beautiful like portraits, considering all the really negative connotations popularly attached to microbes. I'd really have liked to have seen stills or film of the interior of the photobooth with the containers of bacteria during her presentation, but maybe they'll appear in a piece of work at a later date.

Other than that, and being in an exhibition for PhD work, having assorted colds and viruses, a few other arty outings and a birthday, I've become a sort of part-time troglodyte for the past few months - defined as someone living in seclusion and unacquainted with the affairs of the world. I think hermit life goes with the territory for PhDs when you get to a certain point.... nearing The End. That rather scary Ultimate Deadline in February 2009 when I have to submit. But hopefully I won't leave the blog so long next time....

Cuddly giant microbes

These cute little cuddly toys are all based on the shape of real microbes that you've probably come across (or not). The best sellers from GiantMicrobes include: "The Common Cold, The Flu, Sore Throat, Stomach Ache, Brain Cell, E. coli, Kissing Disease, Ulcer, Martian Life, Beer & Bread, Black Death, Ebola, Flesh Eating, Sleeping Sickness, Dust Mite, Bed Bug, Bookworm, and many more!" The categories for each type of microbe are enticing too... choose from calamities, exotics, infirmaries and maladies, to name a few.

I like the way they all look so cute with their little beady eyes, almost pleading to be taken home. They're supposed to be educational too, so what more could you want? It's a purely personal opinion of course, but I think I would prefer to see these toys in someone's home than a large collection of dolls or teddy bears, which I find slightly twee when adults have them.

fed up

I haven't posted for ages (again). I think it'll be like this for the next few months probably, as my thesis is rolling on towards the end and it makes me feel physically sick when I realise how much work I've still got to do - it scares me in case I can't get it done in time, because that will be it - all those year's work down the drain. So I just seem to work all the time, either on that, or else I go to work. Long hours, so I'm always tired, but I can't think of how else to stop myself worrying about it. If I don't actually do something tangible, then I dream about it and feel knackered the next day. I know it's normal, as other Phders say exactly the same things so you feel a bit better but it's a very weird way of life at the moment. My tolerance for prats seems to be much lower than it used to be, I've been really irritable lately, not nasty or rude, I don't think, but people and things just get on my nerves faster than they usually do. But then you see something horrible, like the aftermath of a bad road accident on the way to work, and it puts things into perspective.

Anyway, sorry to moan, I'll get off to sleep now and try to do a happy post next time.

Another blogging gap, another excuse

It's only been a few weeks since I last logged into Blogger and so many changes... such a cluttered-looking screen when you login, rather ugly and so beige-brown. And I tried to leave a comment on Sandancer's detective blog and got a weird error message saying someone else was performing the same action (I don't think so.)

Oh well, I'll fiddle around today and see how it goes.

It's a bit like bringing in a sick note to say why you've been off for a while, but my reason for lengthy absence was hideous work loads, both in job and the PhD. Stressful and time-consuming, but I've got a couple of weeks leave now, so can catch up with being human and get on with my academic work with slightly less juggling of responsibilities. Feel a bit bad admitting this, but I didn't even remember I had a blog while I was caught up with work, but then I started thinking of the blogs I read as real people instead of anonymous things on the internet so I did miss it in the end. Thanks for popping over and leaving the odd comment btw.

Will potter around a bit now and be back later.

Sherlock Holmes' imaginary home

I was curious to see what a museum about an imaginary Victorian detective might be like, which is what the Sherlock Holmes Museum is really. Museums are usually about real things, not fictional characters in novels. Holmes lived at 221b Baker Street in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's stories, so naturally the museum should be there too. That address doesn't actually exist, so the owners of the museum made it up, but it's more or less in the right place in Baker Street.

I was a bit surprised at how many people were queuing up to go in, all tourists. All avid readers of classic detective stories, maybe?? Well, no. Some of the girls near us said they came because Sherlock Holmes was a really famous Englishman and they wanted to see where he lived.

I was slightly shocked that people thought Holmes was a real person. Maybe it's a testament to Conan Doyle's writing, but more likely because the character has slipped into some strange myth of Victorian England, where the line between fiction and history has become completely blurred. There was a display of letters sent to that address from people who also thought it was all real - the Inland Revenue wanted money from whoever lived at 221b (they should know better). Someone else wrote to warn Holmes that he'd seen Professor Moriarty (Holmes' evil nemesis) on the number 254 bus in Sutton, while others offered their help in solving mysteries, or for advice in finding out why their cat kept disappearing.

The museum is set up to look like a Victorian town house, based on details from the stories. It's a bit scruffy and dusty (it made me sneeze). It wasn't decay from authentic Victorian wear and tear, but because visitors are positively encouraged to have their photograph taken everywhere, including on the exhibits - in Holmes' study, at his desk, sitting in his chair, standing next to a 'Victorian policeman' or 'domestic maid' (both real people dressed in appropriate costume.) Some people were posing for their photos in tweed deerstalker hats, bought from the gift shop (pipes available too, if you want them). The top floor was my favourite, crowded with life-sized models of criminals or other dodgy characters from the books, such as the Man with the Twisted Lip.

I got a good book of reprints from the Illustrated Police News from the shop, sort of like a lurid, tabloid-journalism style of reporting real-life Victorian criminal court cases (you'd have to go to Colindale library to read them otherwise). I thought the plastic syringe pens filled with red 'blood' were a peculiar choice for a souvenir, were they meant to be a reference to his drug use? Or something from Dr Watson's medical kit? I got one of the pens where a horse-drawn carriage moves up and down inside it when you tip it up, I like things like that. One day I'll actually read the stories, as I've seen all the films.

In the absence of any pictures of malformed waxwork 'criminals' to illustrate this, Jeremy Brett as Holmes will do very nicely for now. I wish I'd taken my camera, but I'll go back for another visit, as it was so unexpectedly strange.

Back from another blogging gap

Another blogging gap, and another explanation I suppose, though it's funny the way you feel the need to say why you've been invisible, when you're effectively talking to yourself, as Sanddancer put it recently. It's just been work really (job and doctorate). Time-consuming and tiring, nothing very exciting.

My knee is almost completely better, thanks to good NHS doctors and a physiotherapist. It's brilliant to be walking normally again after months of hobbling around. I'm not quite a 'bubble of finesse' again yet, if I ever was and whatever it is... a student called me it at work once, still not sure what they meant, but it sounds quite elegant. So that's why I've indulged myself in wandering around museums recently.

Also met up with Hottie at the V&A, which was very nice. She thought I would be tall and blonde, which I found quite amusing, as I am neither. I tried a blonde wig on once, out of curiosity, and it looked completely vile. I suppose that's one of the strange things about the internet, you get an impression of what someone will look like in real life from their writing - I wonder how you form these pictures in your head. Interesting though.