Rail replacement services

Words to strike fear into anyone who has ever had the misfortune of having to travel using the trains in this country. Can anyone please explain to me how the country that built the largest empire in the world cannot run a public transport service?

I went to Bristol for the weekend to celebrate Bex's birthday and on Friday, the train to take me to Didcot where I had to change was late, although advertised as on-time. So I missed the train I was meant to catch and had to wait for a later one. Today was beautiful, I waited 40 minutes at Bristol for a train to Reading, then when I got in, there were no trains to Oxford as the line was closed, so waited for the next train to Didcot (20 minutes later) and then waited for another bus from Didcot to get back to Oxford.

So all in all, a trip that should normally take, oh, about 2 hours, has taken me 3.5 hours.

So, I haven't blogged in a while.

I have been busy, there's been a lot of things going on, I started demonstrating at some practicals last week and it's been fun. It's great to stand around and get paid to talk intelligent bullshit. I might come to appreciate the finer points of educating and moulding the young minds of future generations.

That, or I'm just really glad to be getting paid £10 an hour to stand around.

I had Andres and Akua for dinner last Sunday, it was great. Was nice to catch up with them after they got back from their incredible round-trip! They are world travellers. But then again, I got reminded about how small Oxford really is. Both my housemates had already met them before at various other occasions. And incredibly, I even managed to cook a relatively nice dinner with a hangover from hell. I blame Gavin and his girl Sarah for getting me into that state. She was in Oxford and as she doesn't come around much, we went out for a legendary St Cross bop. They are normally quite bad and the most fun to be had at them is getting absolutely drunk. Having £1 alco-pops probably triggered our drinking spress. Ah well. Somehow, we also ended up at Mood after the end of the party. I didn't even think I was that drunk as I managed to cycle home. So, having a hangover the next day was shocking. Bah.

And the next week, I met up with Yvonne who now lives in Lviv, Ukraine. She was in London for some exams. We spent part of Tuesday afternoon drinking coffee and going shopping. Fun fun fun. And now I get to plan a trip to go to the Ukraine sometime in spring. I am excited about that thought!

The next day, I went with Annie for a screening of Walk the Line, an autobiopic of the life of the legend that was Johnny Cash. It was good. Reese Witherspoon was exceptional and Jaoquin Phoenix is pretty damn good looking.

Which brings me to this weekend. Spent Friday night in Bex's new place. It was really good to see her again! And then on Saturday we went to a housewarming party of her friend, Graham, in Cardiff. And then went to paint the town red. It was pretty good.

I have another busy week planned, it kind of sucks when Thursday and Friday are pretty much dead in the water for me to do work because of the teaching. I have to organise all my data for this poster, can't leave it for the last minute but I haven't even done half of the work needed for me to present. Stress.

Sleepy as well. I slept on a floor last night. I must be getting to old to sleep on floors.

Later my lovelies!

A sum for fun

So, last night.

Tim J introduced his sum for the rule for dating and relationships. Divide by two and add 7. It works apparently. So basically, you take the age of the person who you want to go out with, divide his/her age by two and add 7. That's the minimum age for the go ahead.

So let's say a 26 year old wants to go out with a 20 year old. 26 divided by 2 is 13 and add 7 is 20. So that's just about scraping it in. Anyone above 20 is fine.

A too-cool-for-school rule.

O-raight? as Novelli loved to say it.

A marriage of convenience

The wonders of modern technology.

Was chatting to my mum on MSN an hour or so ago.

Now there's even more opportunity for her to remind me to get married and have grandchildren for her. It's not that I don't want the perfect wedding and perfect children (why, obviously!) but it's just that there isn't anyone who's qualified. So this concept appealed to me when I thought of it and it's been going around the world for a long time. A marriage of convenience..

Anyone who's had relatively traditional parents will understand the attendent stresses that accompany your life when you hit 25 and a bit more. I mean at this age, my mum was raising my older sister and working. So I can see where she comes from, if she could do it when it was much harder why can't we all emulate her and be great? It must also be doubly hard for her because a lot of my friends are getting married and some of them already popping them out. (I meant children, if you didn't get the idea.)

I guess growing up in this age, we like things to be perfect or as perfect as we want them to be. You're expected to have a successful career, or at least one that will pay the mortgage for the house, the pension and the college fund for the children. And if you don't have that you have to work at that before you can think about getting married.

But back to the original point, if there's some sort of swap that could be arranged, all potential grooms are invited to apply via email. I'll take cash, permanent residencies in first world countries or expensive gifts. What you get back in return is questionable.

What's the deal about real life?

Someone told me the other day that doing a PhD isn't a real job. He's right. It isn't.

It's worse than a real job. It's an obsession that takes hold of you and doesn't let you go. Well, it is if you've chosen to do it and you like what you do. It's worse than a real job because you're an 'expert' in your own field and you have to be the best in what you do. Nothing mediocre when you're having your viva voce (thesis defence).

And if that doesn't scare the living daylights out of you yet, kath said the other day that it's equivalent to slavery. I would like to add, that it's a bit more fun than slavery but maybe not. Many of us have part time jobs on top of the full time studying we have to do.

Yeah, yeah, I can hear some of you mutter now. Students don't really need to work that hard. But being a PhD is like never having a day off. Ever. Especially when you're writing up your thesis and it's the only thing that you live, eat and breathe. Unless of course, you're like me and you work with Drosophila larvae (maggots) and then you try not eat them.

Then when it's all over, you get to go out, party hard and start to look for a job. Sheessh. Why the hell am I putting myself through all this again?

In light of recent lack of posts, I will continue here with the usual spiel. Had a weird ass week and weekend. Worked hard in the week and had a surreal weekend. Sarah came down, last minute, on Saturday and we made a meal with Chad in Amelie and Alexis' place. It was fun, we made Lebanese food, which I had never made before. Highly exciting, since Chad made most of the meal, thanks hun! Then we watched Indiana Jones and Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves. The sugar from the baklava made us all high so even though I left the flat at like 3am, none of us slept till gone 5am. Ah...the late night adventures that fill my life!

Also met K's new boy, whom I randomly know from doing the same course. Nice, yet intensely disturbing to me that Oxford is getting so small that I recognised him and it was because he's doing the same course as me.

Surreal Sunday as lack of sleep didn't help my ability to hold conversations but somehow managed to speak to Tim and Carlo. He's back from Amsterdam, spent the weekend there with his mum, I wish I could have a jetset lifestyle but right now it's probably best kept in this small city of this tiny island so I can finish up the reason why I'm here.

More interesting conversations (why do they only happen why I'm half asleep? Is that to help me process them?) 2006 is a year for being single, decided Mark K. I'm quite tempted to agree with him. Once I kick this thesis in the ass, which will happen in the next 12 months, I will be able to concentrate on the finer things in life. Like actually having one. But minor details.

And got woken up Monday morning by kath. She explains it all so much better than me on her blog. I'm still printing out the final things as we speak. Then I shall make some breakfast and run the thesis over to be bound and handed over to exam schools. Somehow wishing it was mine and I can leave here. Itchy feet already.

Might appease my heart by retail therapy later.

I also hate mornings.