Merry Christmas!

I managed it. My first (and hopefully only) Christmas away from my family and friends- even the ones I've made in Exeter have gone home for the holidays and I refuse to intrude on anyone's holiday. I was going to say alone but I didn't spend the day alone; I walked up to the uni for Christmas lunch and met a load load of nice people wit whom I played games all afternoon (it turns out Buckaroo is ridiculous; Keplunk make me feel like a little kid; and Old Maid has a load of names, so much so that it took us looking up the instructions in three languages to realise what game we all meant).

That's not saying I didn't miss my family. I nearly cried when calling them at 6am their Christmas morning; and only the frustration at my uncle playing silly buggers with his internet during the lunchtime Skype call stopped me even getting that close. Two of my friends here gave me presents so I did have something to unwrap (more than I might have if I'd been home to be honest) and the lunch thing sent me home with a small gift (really a rather large possibly fancy and probably Italian cake).

I came home to listen to Christmas Cabin Pressure (the actual Christmas episode not the finale that just aired) and to have the baked potatoes and chicken I cooked for Christmas dinner. Just so I am actually really stuffed. It's not Christmas if you don't eat too much.

All in all, it's been a good day.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

Remember Remember...

Let's pretend I actually managed to post this on the 5th of November or something close to it instead of nearly two weeks later...

So I'm a bit of a liar about weekly updates. But I've been a bit sick and busy so taking the time I should be working on my essay to write this. Yesterday was Bonfire Night, aka the day the English (British??) celebrate that time a dude nearly blew up Parliament but was caught by burning fires (with or without a stuffed version of him on it). Also there's fireworks. For like the last week, and I'm told continuing for the next week.

I made the choice to go out of town to celebrate this, as while Exeter did have a celebration happening Ottery St Mary seemed to be the place to be. Everyone I knew was going, and a bit of research showed that the 'Tar Barrels' they had there were world famous? According to them.

Either way, about 5:30pm I bundled up in my warmest clothes (which wasn't as warm as I really needed), met a friend and we caught the prebooked bus to Ottery St Mary. He had one of his flatmates with him but she was meeting her boyfriend there. Once she did, we saw her all of twice and both times by accident so she wasn't really a part of my night.

First thing we did do, once at the event (a good fifteen minute walk from the bus stop, half of which was along a dark, dark road), was head towards the smoke to see the bonfire just out of town. The very very big bonfire. Like I heard people saying the flames were getting to be 100 foot tall and staying about 50 metres from the fire, I could feel the heat of it. It was SO big.

<A close up              A not close up>















We got closer. It got really, really warm. I thought I was going to have sunburn, it was that hot. After we'd had our fill of burning things- it took a while- we headed back towards the town, stopping to grab some food from one of the many food stalls along the road while ducking into a field to look at the rides they had- all overpriced but well lit. Night fair, for the win.

For a while we wondered around town, in search of something amusing. Then we found it, walking into a women's tar barrel race in a crowded but not overly crowded street. We got front road, well standing positions, as the women ran the barrels up and down the road we were standing on. Every so often I would have to move fast to get out of the road of the flaming barrel of tar (and woman) coming right at me. It was awesome, though by now I was glad I hadn't brought my camera (or honestly anything that didn't fit into the pockets of my overcoat).

Sadly the barrel couldn't last forever, so eventually the running of it ended. I caved in and brought a programme and my friend and I went in search of another race...or run. Not sure what the specifics are if there's no winner or other competitors...

But we must have been the worse navigators ever because we couldn't track down the next race. Annoyed we went back to the bonfire, which had died down since we left it. Though it was still big- I was told it would still be burning today and that they just leave it to burn out. I could believe that, being able to see the blue flames in the fire. And still feel some of the heat, though nowhere near as much.

Eventually we again got bored of burning things and decided to wander back into town.

Instead we wandered into a crowd. A very big crowd. Seeing no way around it, the pair of us tried to make our way through it, ignoring the large amount of pushing and shoving happening. I'm shorter than my friend and after he nearly lost me in the crowd we grabbed hands, not wanting to get lost in the mess.

It was then we either got far enough ahead or had the bad luck to run into a tar barrel.

In a crowd as large as this, with the tar barrel running right through it, there really was no control. Every so often I got crushed against people as we all dodged out of the way of the fire- once or twice I was again front row to it- and there wasn't always warning. I couldn't see above the crowd, obviously, and had to rely on others to make sure I didn't end up in its path. Somehow we got far enough along the road that I was able to drag us across the crowd and down a side street where we could walk back into town sans tar barrels and crushing crowds.

I had it better; my friend doesn't like crowds.

Unnerved by the experience, we found a crowd free vantage point for the next barrel. While it was nowhere near as close as we had been for the last two, we weren't being crushed and still had a good view of the huge, flaming barrel on the guy's shoulders so it wasn't that awful. Once that had finished, we checked our watches and made the long walk back to the bus stop, in time for the next bus back to Uni.

All in all, it was a great experience.

But I now know why they warned us about crowds and fire before we got on the bus to go to Ottery St Mary...

Not Cool Dude

There's a post in my drafts about my week, I just need to add to it when I'm next procrastinating my essay. But this is not about that.

This is about the dude who, when I was walking home from town at midnight made me majorly uncomfortable while probably thinking he was being nice.

News flash: You weren't.

Scene: Midnight, middle of town when I'm about ten minutes away from the lounge I just spent four hours in with the Doctor Who Society. I'm completely sober and about twenty minutes from home.

As I'm walking a guy, about a foot taller than me, walks past and asks if I'm alright.

I say I'm fine.

He then asks if I just finished work.

Now I'm nervous. I know he's probably being polite but it's late and I'm already nervous about the thirty minute walk home. So I reply that I'm just walking home.

To which I get, "No, where were you?"

...Okay, feeling like an interrogation here. "Out". I reply curtly. By now I'm wishing I had had my headphones in so I could have politely ignored this guy.

"Pub or Club?"

Right, this isn't polite. Seriously dude, I'm a young woman walking alone at night. I know you probably think you're being nice but I'm feeling interrogated and you're just making me nervous!

I reply "Lounge." Because it's correct, I wasn't at a pub or club. He, now five metres ahead of me, says something I don't catch and I slow up a bit, letting him get further away. For the rest of the time he's ahead of me, before he turns down a side road, I keep an eye on him.

Why? Because he made me nervous! Piece of advise for guys- late at night, your advances aren't going to come off as anything but nice and friendly (to me at least). The one good thing this guy did was get ahead of me before asking anything- and stayed there. He didn't seem to take my curtness as a hint and for all I know, his last statement to me was something about me being rude.

Which I had every right to be.




Okay word vomit over, I'm just a little worked up (over nothing probably but at the time it was a lot freaky; I spent the rest of the walk home keeping an eye on my surroundings just in case dude decided to follow me instead) and wanted to... vent? I guess. It's probably nothing but urgh, I wish he'd said nothing.

I Am Silent

Seriously. So silent on this blog. I guess I just forget I have it and I'm more used to talking stuff out with my friends anyway than writing it down. I don't even edit beyond a quick check for typos- my entries are usually all stream of consciousness.

But recently I've been doing some work in class on diaries and well, I'm wondering why I'm not keeping one while I'm over here. Admittedly a daily one might get dull (take today's- got up, got on computer, walked to town, came home, got on computer for rest of day) but weekly entries could be interesting? Hell a weekly post on this site might be interesting and give me the chance to at least let people I'm not talking to as much as I used to know what I'm doing.

But then I am awful at diaries so I don't even know.

I do know I adore my social life over here. Weekly hang outs with certain friends, all routine and working. I've watched so much Doctor Who with the society and there's only more to see. In fact, all societies seem to be keeping me busy so that's great. I've not been travelling much but I've a load of time before and after Christmas and in the New Year to get that done- and a railcard to do some of it with.

Also my grant is coming so woo, free money soon! And reading week is next week so I might look into spending a day or two in London at the end of next week. It all depends! I have options!

...Of course now I'm writing this to avoid sleeping so I'm going to go do that.

Procrastinating Thoughts

I have homework due tomorrow so instead of doing it I'm going to update a post here because I've not posted in a while.

Reason: I've been busy. SO VERY VERY BUSY. Like, settling into a new place made me busy but then Uni has made me busier. Firstly because of the homework side of it (SO MUCH READING) but also because of the social side.

I've never been this involved in anything.

Back home, I've work and a list of reasons to not go out. Here, there's nothing like that and I'm just going out so much more. Friends are texting me to do lunch and I go do lunch that day. The societies I'm in all have things on basically once a fortnight (if not more) and well, my building keeps doing things together.

And it's awesome. But it's making me wonder what I'm missing back home? Like... I don't go out much at home and I love it but here it seems I also love spending time with people all over the place? And yes, while I have had to talk myself into going to a couple of events, I've never regretted going.

Though I've not gotten drunk. Just super tipsy.

I'm also feeling a touch disconnected from home. Which might be adding to these odd thoughts. Mostly because my family spread my Nana's ashes on Sunday (their yesterday, my today) and no one bothered to tell me it was going to happen until the day before. My brother assumed I knew and I can't think of what it would have been like if he'd mentioned it in Skype after it had happened.

Or if I'd seen Mum's status on Facebook and not known it was happening.

And while I know it wasn't possible to wait for me to be there and that keeping the ashes in the house was freaking Mum out (mostly because the Furbies in the room she's keeping the ashes in keep going off for no reason...) but a part of me wishes they could have delayed it. It's only a few months. Or if I had just gone on exchange last semester as originally planned... but then I would have missed the last months of Nana's life- and definitely wouldn't have been home before her stroke. It was just rotten timing, I know, but a part of me is heartbroken at missing this absolutely final goodbye.

And the rest is pissed I only knew about it because I called Dad twice for his birthday instead of once.

The Love Of Field And Coppice

Dorothea Mackeller- My Country

My Country has always been one of those poems I loved but the exact image that the first (often skipped) paragraph describes has escaped me.

Until now.

England is so green. And there's so many lanes- I'm currently in the city of Exeter and I can't walk more than say 50 metres without finding a lane (and it's an actual lane not a laneway). There's so many old old buildings in the main part of town, like older than anything you could find in Sydney and so many of them are just...shops. It's different.

There's been quite a few differences, all minor really. Windows don't have flyscreens- something I'm told is super common all over Europe. In the place I'm living, I've a pair of full length windows that open inward and I could, with minimal effort, climb out of them and over the metal bars that cover the bottom half. If I wasn't on the second floor that is... Oh and traffic lights go orange before they go green and everyone jaywalks for every set of lights.

But really, I've been settling in nicely to England. I met some friends of a friend and they're awesome and have shown me around a bit. I know where the Uni and town are and I've getting the hang of shopping for myself. All the minor issues I had when moving in (my UniKit stuff not arriving for 4 days; the jammed windows etc) have been resolved to some degree- enough that I'm comfortable.

I like it here and I can't wait for Uni to start back. =)

5 Things The Last Week Has Taught Me About Grief

I've always loved Cracked.com and their articles so I've decided to write about some things I've noticed in the near week since Nana's death in their style.

5. Everyone Is Sorry.

Seriously. They're sorry for your loss. They're thinking of you in this troubling time. Their prayers are with you. Sorry. Sorry. So Sorry.

And I get it. Dead is one of those things you can't really do anything about. You can offer sympathy, and that is nice. I don't mind being told these things... but at one point it was the only emotion anyone seemed capable of expressing towards my family and I. People I've not talked to in ages offered sympathy on Facebook. People are on tenderhooks around both me and my mother- I'm not sure how they were around my brother and Dad because I've barely seen my brother (as usual) and like me, Dad spends a lot of his time at home right now.

Case in point. The day I lost her, someone wished for me to have a good day. Then they apologisied for saying that because wow insensitive. And...while it probably was, I found it more amusing than anything. Yes, it wasn't likely I was going to have a good day but hey look at how ingrained that phrase is in our manners. But no one in that chat has wished me a good day since- especially not that person. And it's off putting.

People who treat me normally are brilliant. Sympathy is fine; it's when it's everywhere and it's all you get that it gets annoying.

And how the hell do you respond to the sympathy? I keep saying thanks because really... there's nothing else to say. Even thanks feels hollow because half the time it's more reflex than genuine. I've said it so many times, to so many people that it's begun to lose all meaning too.

4. Being Asked How Your Day Is Is A Landmine Question.

Speaking of sympathy, this question is awful. It's such a loaded one now. How the hell do I answer it? If I say fine or good it's lying... or it feels like I should be lying because why should I be good right now? I lost someone I adored a week ago, 'good' is not a good description. But at the same time how do you say I'm not okay without bringing your loss back to the foreground of the conversation and well... making it all about you and your grief. It's a balance that's hard to find.

And that's for those who know what happened.

How do I respond to a coworker asking how I am? A stranger? Saying you've had a loss instantly opens you up for more sympathy but also makes conversation hard- it's a real mood killer. And there's a place it's not really appropriate to mention it which is basically any place where you're only likely to see this person for the next five minutes.

But the thing is, it's always on my mind. The second someone asks how I am, it's all that comes to mind. I've basically lied my way through every occasion of this question since. Or given non-committal answers. Like a 'How's things?' gets a 'Things are thinging'. It's tough and it's not even been a week...

3. Funerals Are Hard To Plan. And Expensive. 

Nana died just under a week ago. Her funeral was today. It took my parents the full week to organise and boy was it a lot of work.

Sure they had someone come see them about all the plans on the Friday, the day after her death. At that meeting, they chose all the major details like when- though that had been sorta picked since practically the day she died- and where. How religious we wanted it (enough to please her) was picked and things like flowers and music were talked over and picked that day. She'd made her wishes clear on how to bury her (which was to not, cremation for her) so it was just a matter of sorting out the details.

But the details. Do we want it recorded for my uncle who can't make it? Do we want little booklets? Yes? Okay, now we have to pick the photos for that. Who is going to speak? They can't decide on the day because there's a little booklet to be made. Closed or open casket? What are we going to bury her in? Mum and I had to go buy clothes because none of her stuff fit anymore. And let me tell you there is worse than walking into a clothes store and trying to figure out which of the pretty clothes you think best suits your dead Nana and will be suitable for her cremation. Because the funeral is closed casket, no one is going to see it...

Of course, it seems funerals are more for the living than the dead really.

And then there's the money problem. My Nana has...had the money to bury herself with but the moment she died, her assets were frozen. So we had to figure that issue out. It's not fun to be worrying about money when you've lost someone.

Not that I would sign up for funeral insurance. That's still a rip off.

2. Flowers. So Many Flowers.

We can't sit at our kitchen table at the moment. There's too many flowers. If you sit down on one side of it, all you can see of the person on the other side is flashes of their clothes you glimpse around (beautiful) arrangements of orchids and whatever the hell those orange flowers are that were on Nana's coffin (We took the smaller bunch home, her sister in law took the largest bunch. Yes, you take the flowers from the coffin home. Who knew?)

It seems to be the best way, after a card and saying sorry, for people to express their sympathy for us. The first bunch of flowers came last Tuesday- two days before Nana died. Since then, we've had another three bunches, including the ones from the coffin.

And a part of me hates it. Because Nana hated flowers in bunches like that. She loathed them with a passion, preferring to have potted plants as they could survive more than a few days. We always brought her a little potted plant if we wanted to buy her flowers and every time my uncle (who could never remember she hated flower bunches though at least he sent her something unlike the other two) sent her flowers, they ended up at our place within a day or two. I know it's not feasible for people to know this but at the same time, a part of me still resents the fact they don't know and yeah...

Also keeping flowers like that is a bit of work. They're nice but work.

EDIT: Five. There are five bunches of flowers. I forgot another friend of the family sent flowers the day after Nana died. So many flowers...

1. It's Really Hard And It's Not Hard At All

The funeral was hard. I started crying practically as soon as I saw the coffin because that box (so small) held my Nana and that's all I'll ever see of her. While I managed to read the poem I decided to read at the funeral, my voice was shaking and beside me my brother, who had come up with me for moral support, was crying as much as I wanted to be.

It also doesn't help that my last memory of her is from a week before she died when she could barely speak and the little she did say was to cry for help. She only made eye contact with me once- and seemed to recognise me- when I kissed her forehead in farewell after holding her hand for a lot of the visit; swapping off with my mother. It's not a good memory but it's my last one. It's so hard right now to remember anything of Nana from before she got really sick.

But sometimes it's not hard at all. I don't always have her on my mind and well... We've been expecting this since sometime late last year; it's already the reason I delayed my exchange. It wasn't a complete surprise, especially not after the stroke last month. My parents didn't have to say a word when they came home and I met them at the door; one look at their faces and I knew though I managed to avoid having them say it for a few moments as I babbled on about the phone calls I'd gotten while holding the fort. Even the funeral had its unsad moments- one when a friend of the family complimented me on the knee high pink spotted black socks I had worn specifically because Nana would have told me off for wearing them (once she realised what they were) and another when my brother pointed out to my suit wearing Dad that while both his fancy shoes were black they were different shoes. Both times I laughed.

That's not to say it's not been hard at other times. I cry at random moments, when I think about something that reminds me of her. A part of me doesn't really feel it because it's such an unreal feeling, to think that she's gone. But I'm hoping now the funeral has happened it might feel realer... I don't want to be in denial about reality.

Perhaps when I go overseas, it'll be different. But for now, I guess I'll continue to take each day as it is