Ossianknits

On routines

Dear all

I'm finally settling into a routine: get up early (well, early for me - alarm goes off at 7.30), do academic work in the morning (editing/researching for Kristine on Mondays and Fridays, my own on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, teaching on Thursdays), take an hour off at lunch (to meet friends, wander around town, walk on the beach), work in the library in the afternoon, go to the pub at 5 (by myself, with people, with books, with knitting), go home, have dinner, and then - wait for it - have spare time to knit, watch movies (or The Doctor), read novels, do academic work. And then there is the weekend. The weekend! Two weekends ago  we stayed in and watched Series 1 of Doctor Who all day, which was rather enjoyable. The Doctor is much better than I remember, and Rose is not nearly as annoying as I remember. Last weekend involved a trip to the border abbeys, the Swedish Shop and The Best MacAndCheese Ever. This past weekend consisted of preparing for an interview, and re-organising the kitchen cupboards.

I've been listening to music again. I used to listen to music, and care about music, and keep up with music, but at some point during my undergrad I just sort of stopped being interested. I still listened to old favourites, but I stopped caring about new stuff. In the past year or so, however, urged by various despairing (yet well-meaning?) friends I have rediscovered my love for music-with-instruments. I like singer-songwriters, I like bands, I like guitars (and, as ever, I like rhymes and half-rhymes and fancy phrases). I have exchanged music with friends and been introduced to lots of awesome music that way, and I've gone and bought music, on CD, as downloads and on vinyl. There have been mix-CDs. I've finally found some music I can listen to while working - The Mountain Goats.* I've been buying an album a month for a while now - this month's was "The Sunset Tree" and "Tallahassee" by The Mountain Goats, the month before was Kid Canaveral's "Shouting at Wildlife" - on vinyl. Month before that? King Creosote and Jon Hopkins "Diamond Mine", I think. Next month? I'm thinking Broken Family Band's "The King Will Build a Disco".

 

 

* The Mountain Goats, like so many awesome things/ideas/people, came out of this year's BARS conference in Glasgow.

Carlyle, and Hardy

Dear all,

This has been a good post-PhD week: I finished two novels. Carlyle's Sartor Resartus, and Hardy's Far From the Madding Crowd. I had never read anything by Carlyle before, but I picked up this one years ago after a friend from undergrad raved about it, and it has been sitting on my shelf since (let me check) April 2006. It's an oldish Oxford World's Classics paperback - a yellow one - from the late 1980s. I am very fond of the yellow Oxfords in general, and this one has a particularly good picture on the front: Caspar David Friedrich's "Moon Rising over the Sea". I picked it at random for a trip down to Leeds last month - both the picture, and my friend's warm recommendation made it seem like a good choice.

I started it at the beginning of the month and finished it just now - not bad at all, really - but I was about to give up quite a lot in between. I don't usually finish books I don't like, but I felt like I had to finish it (because, well, one of the friends I went to see down south had read it earlier this year and I figured I could at least do the same, and because, well, it was never quite uninteresting enough to not finish it). I have read my fair share of 18th- and 19th-century books over the years, but I've never quite read anything like the Carlyle one (That's how I think of it, 'The Carlyle one'). Too patchy and non-linear to have much of a plot, too philosophically weird to be a 'proper' novel (or at least the sort of novel I was expecting from the period), too Shandyan (Tristramy?) for its own good (but without TS's humour and silliness), too long-winded for its lack of plot. But (but but), I really liked its quirky insistence on putting German bits and translations of German bits in, and I liked its occasional (constant/random/sometimes) social critique, and I couldn't help but like its main character, Teufels-thingy, even though he wasn't particularly likeable per se. Yep - I persevered! I think I shall like to re-read it one day, that time knowing what to expect. I suspect it is one of those books that improves vastly with reaquaintance...

Now, Hardy is an old favourite: Back in 2005 I wrote my (40,000-word) undergrad dissertation on his novels, and I periodically turn to him for comfort, solace and laughter (yes, laughter). I re-read Jude on the way to Oxford a few years ago to help me focus on the paper I was about to give, and I turned to FFtMC as a reward for finishing the Carlyle one. I have always loved FFtMC - if I had to pick one Hardy novel as a favourite it would surely be this one, and I'm pretty sure that FFtMC would make it into any Desert Island Book list (10, 5, 1 - I'd always, always take it). Coming back to it is like meeting an old friend again - you know exactly what they're going to say, but you notice things about them you've never noticed before. I think I finally feel the erotic appeal of the sword excercise (poor old Bathsheba doesn't stand a chance), and Boldwood is a tad more off-putting than he used to be (his grumpy mood-swings, and his intense reactions of joy and grief are a bit much), but Gabrial remains as he has always been: steadfast, shepherdy and lovely. Recently the description of Gabriel at the beginning of the novel featured in a friend's email 'he had just reached the time of life at which "young" is ceasing to be the prefix of "man" in speaking of one', which is revealed to be 28. Particularly apt as said friend is celebrating his 28th birthday this week and also as Peter, my husband-creature, turns 28 in January. (The rest of the quotation is about bachelors, and thus less appropriate for Peter. Very appropriate though, for J, said friend). I noticed Bathsheba's vanity more than before, and just how much she does promise to Boldwood (without ever quite meaning to, I think). I very much enjoyed the rustic chorus (always have), and it's quite odd to read dialect that is not Scottish (in recent years my dialect-in-novels intake has merely come from the likes of Scott and Smollett). I think I shall dig out my film adaptation of the book - the one from the late 1990s with Colin Firth's younger brother as Troy, and Nathaniel Parker as Gabriel (I also have the 1967 one somewhere - Julie Christie, Peter Finch, Alan Bates (of course), but I love the vividness of the later version - its bright colours, its dashing sergeant, its beautiful landscapes. Parker looks like I always imagined Gabriel, and he is very good with the sheep. I think Peter may be read for a little Hardy...

The autumn air is sweeter...

Dear all,

I am back - back for good, that is. The summer was spent working, and pottering about, moving my stuff over from the Fatherland, conferencing, and going to the Fatherland. Grandpa passed away. I submitted the final copy of my thesis (all shiny and hard-bound and blue with gold letters). I made new friends. I knitted. Peter has also submitted his thesis, and most of my friends are finishing their's. It's an exciting time, really, and also a bit frightening: no one knows where we're going to be a year from now.*

*I suspect that I shall be where I'm now: in Fife, but reading more books, knitting more, and, perhaps, gardening a bit...

I'm finally back in the swing of academia: this past week has been spent working on an article, and I'm quite happy with how it is going (it is going slowly, but well [I think]). I'm thinking about books (to write, and to read [and, actually, to catalogue and rearrange]), and I'm drawing up chapter plans and proposals. We're thinking of hosting a conference next year, on Emblems of Nationhood: Britishness (either 1660-1837, or 1707-1901). I'd quite like to write a book on that topic too, or perhaps co-write it with Mr (then Dr) Lindfield-Ott. I'm thinking (seriously) about writing a biography of Macpherson - a semi-popular one. I have a pretty fabulous title floating around, but I have to do a little more thinking about it (and I should probably read some other biographies) before I can talk about it... I'm enjoying writing again - mainly, I think, because I don't *have* to do it, and because (now that I'm a Dr) I'm quite confident again in my abilities. I've started writing letters to people again, too. I've missed that. And reading novels.

So there. I'm back!

Viva, or Dr des.

Dear all,

This is Dr des. Ossianknits. I had my viva a week ago, and I passed with minor corrections. Yay!

I was dreading the whole affair. I get very nervous about exams and interviews, but this one was actually fun. I hung out in my supervisor's office beforehand. We chatted, I gave him his gifts (a 19thc copy of Ossian and a knitted tie (which I forgot to photograph); he put on the tie immediately and it looked very nice), and we waited. We talked about possible questions (and thought of possible answers), and I wasn't nervous. The viva itself was also very nice - in fact, it was quite fun. My examiners are very lovely people. It was much more like a conference than an exam. We talked for about an hour and a half, mostly about editorial technical things (which is where my corrections come in), and they very kindly suggested publishers and research ideas. I am going to start my corrections properly next week.

Why next week, you ask? Because my shiny new husband is leaving for America tomorrow: he is off to deepest darkest Connecticut for 5 weeks, for a fellowship at the Lewis Walpole Library (where we read books and played croquet last year).

So? What now? Since the viva I have knit a sock, started shawl (for the lady examiner), applied for a couple of jobs, marked essays, and dyed my hair PhD-blue (it's the colour of our dress gowns and hoods). Life is good.

Erm...

So... Guess what happened?

 

I submitted my thesis!

 

And then I got married!

 

Tired now. My viva (final PhD exam) is on the 17th of May - next week!

Endspurt

Dear All,

January has come and gone, and I have spent most of it away from home. We got back from the fatherland on Sunday, laden with wine and beer. There was much eating, much beer drinking, wine tasting and general non-thesisising. Now, however, I find myself back at home trying desperately to finish my thesis. Teaching begins again next week, and it looks like I'm going to be tutoring both on the evening degree course and the regular first-year module. I'm excited about both! I'm trying to get my thesis done before we get to the texts that I'm less familiar with.

Also, much more importantly, the wedding is in less than three months and while the thesis is taking priority right now I would like to spend a few weeks sitting about thinking about wedding stuff. That would be nice. At the moment we have 42 people for the evening meal, and our venue holds 45 comfortably. 50 at a squeeze, but we don't really want that. We still need to send our daytime invitations, arrange lunch and sort out seating charts. And find things to tombola (to raffle?). We need to decide on hymns (we have picked 2 so far) and readings (and readers?). And on music in general.

I have edited all the main chapters of my thesis and am now finishing my introduction. All is well so far - needs a bit more fiddling but should be ok. Then there is the edition of The Highlander, the poem that my thesis is mainly concerned with. I think I should be done with the introduction by Sunday. Two weeks should be enough for the edition (if Peter can help with hyperlinks), and then perhaps another week or so fiddling with footnotes, prettifying the chapters, finishing the bibliography, writing an abstract and acknowledgements. It has been a long 4.5 years but the thesis has turned out to be pretty good. Much different than anticipated: much more theoretical, much more mid-18th-century, much more Scottish. I have become interested in travel writing, literary tourism, aesthetics and historiography (although I feel a bit like a fraud with regards to anything history-y, seeing as I have never studied history at university). My official submission date, the 26th of March, coincides with this conference I'm going to: Romantic Adaptations at St Mary's College (Walpole's Strawberry Hill). I'm presented a condensed version of my thesis, and hopefully I'll be able to speak (that is, waffle) rather than read out a paper. What a fitting conclusion to the PhD process!

Cellardyking

Dear All,

I find myself in Cellardyke this afternoon, one of the villages down the coast from us. My friend is house- and catsitting this weekend, and I tagged along for an afternoon of knitting by the fire and thinking about the theses (our respective ones). We went for a walk earlier, had lunch in a wee pub, and delivered a belated Christmas gift. Now we're installed by the fire with our knitting and our computers, enjoying the serenity of this lovely book-filled house. Occasionally the cats come out and say hello. I wish I didn't have to work tonight - I would love to stay all evening!

As promised, some more knitting.

This is a very late birthday hat. The birthday was in Novemeber and I finally delivered it sometime in December. It is also a Cellardyking hat as its recipient lives in the village this year:

 

It is blue and cabled and cosy and warm, and I hope he likes it. I was half-tempted to keep it - I must make one for myself.

 

It was another foggy day out where we are (though not down on the coast). It snowed again over night, so everything was grey and ghostly. There are so many different shades of grey this time of year. This is probably my favourite season - all misty and cold and miserable.

Anxious-ness

Dear All,

Most of December was spent looking at the snow, and thinking about the snow, and worrying about the snow. I ended up spending Christmas in Wales with the future in-laws (unplanned), and New Year's (as planned) in Leeds. I'm going to the fatherland next week to make up for missing Christmas. All shall be fine.

There was knitting:

(A pair of socks for Noel, our best man's wife).

There has been more knitting but I'll show you that sometime soon.

This year has been rather anxious so far. NYE was rather uneventful (but nice), and I met up with an old friend on NYDay. Things were a little awkward - he was preoccupied with his relationship, I with my thesis - and I slept very badly and had crazy weird dreams. The next morning was very awkward, and we both panicked, about stuff. It suddenly hit me that it is now 2011, and I'm supposed to be finishing my thesis, and I'm getting married, and I'm going to have to figure out what to do with myself. Yes. I've been panicking on and off since then. There has been knitting, and a little thesisising, and much tea drinking. I made lists to help me think, and did some wedding planning, and hung out with friends, and drunk tea. In fact, I am drinking tea right now. I'm editing my final chapter, which is on history. But I am not a historian. Things are... interesting. So. Yes. Anxious-ness.

Fiddly mittens

Dear all,

We are still snowed in (of course). We did manage to dig the car out, and made it into town to stock up on essentials (potatoes, cheese, booze) yesterday.

There are icicles on the windows. Most of them melted down a bit today (sadly), but I'm very impressed with them. They are nostalgic and wintery, and looking at them makes you feel cosy (even when you're wearing fleece layers and it's 6C inside):

 

We also had a visitor today: Bernard, the resident pheasant. Peter saw his ladies yesterday, and then Bernard turned up today. I haven't seen him in a while, but he was back today:

Isn't he delightful?

 

In other news, I'm on the homestretch of my thesis and editing like mad. I'm going through all my chapters at the moment, and it's very intense (but gratifying) work. I was supposed to spend this weekend with my Dad, but his flight got cancelled so he couldn't come (damn you, Brits, and you inability to deal with snow!). I've been spening a lot of time at my 'desk' (dining table, couch, floor, whatever - anything but the actual desk - the desk is for holding lots of notes and books and stuff), and I've also been knitting a little. I'm intrigued by stranded colourwork mittens, and I've cast on for a pair of Fiddlehead mittens:

They're very fiddly indeed! I love the way colourwork looks, but I'm not terribly good at it...

Snowday, or rather -week

Dear all,

The coldspell continues. We have had an awful lot of snow - over a foot now! The sheep are cold, we are cold, and the roads are very tricky.

This is the view from our front door:

 

Snow on top of the wall. Well, the hole I made in the snow:

 

By the side of the road. Sunken in to my knees!

 

The beautiful field next door. The sheep are all hiding.

 

The back garden. Note that the path is quite shallow. The snow is packed so tightly that it doesn't go down much...

 

Keep warm - wrap up well. I've abandoned my handknits in favour of fleece blankets and jackets.