Tag Archives: weather

And now I’m back from Dublin

Standard

Back and STILL sleepy. I don’t think I got a full twelve hours of sleep between leaving England and coming back…. Why, do you ask? Well…er had a starting time of 4:30 in the morning. So I figured the most sensible thing was to NOT sleep at all. The library stays open all night anyway so I just hang out there with a friend and we watched movies (Harry Potter of course!) until it was time to meet up with the others. And…

***Never mind, I’ll continue this in 20 minutes. I finally found the original Yu-Gi-Oh! in Japanese and I’m binge-watching***

And now I’m back! A few episodes and quick nap later. And the inevitable frustration that accompanies every waking moment when my laptop decides to act up with zero explanation. But one thing at a time. Where did this all start from? Ah, yes! My all-nighter. it was fun! I swear. Tiring of course and causing me to pass out during the (unfortunately) short flight to Dublin but for the biggest part of the day I was swinging between manic cheerfulness and that fugue-like state you are right before you fall asleep. And this dear friends is why there are no pictures in this post. Kind of hard to take them when you’re speeding through historical Dublin in less than 48 hours and having to consciously concentrate on forming words in the right language and accent. Yes. New discovery: the more tired I am, the more muddled the languages become in my head. In retrospect it’s kind of funny.

Dublin was lovely. Kind of chilly because of the wind but the sun was out all day, both days and not even a hint of rain bothered us. And yes, this is yet another city I’ve barely met yet I’m already sort of in love with. It doesn’t really help that my first introduction to the country was through the Artemis Fowl books (a stipple of my teenage years and I am STILL waiting on the movie!). I was going there prepared to like the place and I left determined to return for further explorations…

Of course, judging my the weather since I returned, Nottingham is a jealous mistress who did not appreciate my going off to a different city for any length of time. Look at this weather forecast! It’s supposed to be spring!

Capture weathre Here’s to hoping BBC is wrong. At which point I will stop as I just nearly broke my jaw yawning. I think dinner, then sweet dreams are in order for me. See you all soon!

#JustShowerThoughts

Standard

Or late-night-insomnia thoughts really… You know, all those strange philosophical realisations that come to you at the most inopportune of moments. Here’s a selection of my most recent wut!moments, in hopes that if I type them I’ll stop thinking about them…

  • Why do all my great writing ideas come when I have nothing (or no time) to write them on?
  • Why do candidate posters for any sort of election make me less inclined to vote? Aren’t they meant to fire me up?
  • Why does Disney think that lime green in the colour of evil? No, seriously!

DR_FACILIER maleficent Scar ursula

  • How come I feel less cold when I go out on a sweater and flip-flops than when I’m all bundled up properly?
  • Why is basic maintenance so hard to do in student accommodation?
  • Is being Uchiha Madara like being the Dread Pirate Roberts, only with more explosions?
  • Why is “evil head turn” a thing? And why does nobody ever lampshade it?
  • Why does the Library catalogue computer show different results from the Library catalogue we have access through Moodle? (English student problems…)
  • Why are T&Cs written in such a small font?
  • I can’t be the only one morbidly afraid of answering phones, can I?
  • Is there some sort of (paying) job that mostly involves looking at beautiful landscapes and writing poetic descriptions about them?
  • If I am constantly sleep-deprived, why do I feel guilty when I wake up after eight in the morning?

Picnic

Standard

Colourful costumes and wary looks;

Will the weather hold out?

Bags full of goodies,

Last minute shopping trips,

Jokes under the sun,

Waiting for the gang to arrive.

Laughter on the road as we walk,

Jokes and references only we get.

It’s the last few days; this is the end,

So if everything is a little brighter,

If our smiles are a little wider,

What of it?

 

We have our whole lives ahead.

Just let us cling to this past,

Just for a little longer.

How March came to have more days than February

Standard

Once upon a time, back when the world was still fresh and young, and the months barely more than children, things were a lot different than what we know now. Out of the twelve sons of the Time March was the shortest, having been born with twenty-eight days instead of thirty or thirty-one. Not that it bothered him. By the time his turn on the Wheel of the Year arrived people were more eager to prepare for his brother April’s arrival and the actual beginning of spring. March, for all his quick temper, was good-natured at heart and didn’t mind helping the people adjust from his elder brothers’ icy temperaments to the youngers’ warmth and exuberance. So he had a bad habit of dealing frosts with one hand and sunshine with the other. Who could blame him? He was stuck right in the middle!

 

Truth be told, most people didn’t mind March’s changefulness, thinking of him as the actual beginning of spring rather than the more accommodating April. There was one though, one who dislike poor March more than anyone in the world and that was Old Missy. Old Missy lived in a small house at the edge of her village with her two goats and her giant cauldron. She was cheese-maker and there was little she enjoyed more than complaining about everything and everyone around her. None, not even the months could escape her tongue-lashings and she always seemed dissatisfied with something, be it the weather, the children playing near her house too loudly or her poor goats for not giving the right amount of milk.

 

When March found out, he took it upon himself to change Old Missy’s mind. He heard her complaining about the children’s’ noise so he blew cold winds to send them back to their mothers’ hearths. Still the old woman complained.

“Ah March! Fickle March! You blow your cold winds and make my old bones ache. You send the earth back to winter’s sleep, no grass is growing and what will my goats eat?”

 

So March tried again, eager to make Missy happy. He gave her warm, sunny days so that grass would grow for her goats to eat and for her old joints no to hurt. Still the old woman complained.

“Ah March! Fickle March! You grow hot and spoil my milk before I can make cheese. Your sun makes folk and beast lazy and none will come to my house to buy my wares and how will I live with no profit?”

 

Every day for all his twenty-eight days March tried to make the old woman happy. He brought rain to cool the heat, she complained of rheumatisms. He made flowers bloom in her front yard, she moaned the colours hurt her eyes. He coaxed the birds to sing sweetly by her windows, she groaned for the noise that wouldn’t let her sleep. At last the twenty-eighth day arrived. Old Missy sat on her porch and cackled in delight.

“Ah March! Fickle March! There’s still some life left in these old bones! You tried your best but I beat you and lived through all your topsy-turvy weather!”

 

March, exhausted as he was, grew angry. He had tried everything in his power to make Missy happy and still she mocked him. He wrapped himself in a cloud of early-morning frost and off he marched to his elder brother’s icy castle. He found February tending to his snowdrops.

“Brother February, grand me a boon,” March said, as he joined his brother’s gardening efforts.

“If it is in my power, will all my heart,” February answered and another flower bloomed cautiously under his gaze.

“There is an old woman mocking my powers,” March said. “Grant me three days so that I may punish her.”

 

February nodded silently. He knew of Old Missy and of her bitterness. His bad leg had been bothering him a lot more lately. Maybe it would do him good to roam the earth less. So he chose his three coldest days and gave them to March. The younger month thanked him and, armed as he was, stood right over Missy’s house and blew the worst storm that the old woman had ever seen. For three days the wind tore and the rain fell and when April finally poked his mischievous head around the corner, he found the old woman and her goats hiding under the giant cauldron for protection, the house having been completely blown away.

 

Thus February became the shortest month, March gained three days and an old woman learnt the value of silence.