Round robin 2011
Dear all,
I hope this finds you in good spirits and in enjoyable company!
I’m trying to settle down enough to write the traditional Yule missive with the aid of a compilation of seasonal music put together by a bookcrossing friend now many years ago, when I’d expressed a desire for just such a thing which was shortly followed by a CD in the post. It’s not the night-before-the-last-posting-date, and I won’t drink on a school night, so the wit and wisdom brought on by brinkmanship and a glass of red might be strangely absent.
If this sounds like a person you haven’t previously associated with myself, I’m deeply offended by the besmirching of my virtue you thus imply. I am indulging some of my vices a bit less these days, as I decided to embark on project Body Beautiful in May. I spotted a momentary period of feeling relatively settled with the occasional fleeting glimpse of adequacy at work and joined a weight loss outfit to maintain my ritual self humiliation quota. I’ve since lost 22 kilos (48lbs or 3.5 stone in old money) and decided I might as well try to go all the way to an officially normal weight, but that’ll still be a while. (High time that -something- was officially normal about me). I’ve been going to the gym more and doing that dreaded thing of “building more exercise into my daily routine,” something that’s actually worked out nicely in that, on the way home, I get off the train a couple of stations early, hare along 5 miles of river path on my bicycle and then get on the final leg of my journey. I’m going to the gym more and I’m eating smaller portions of largely whatever I fancy, aiming for the lower-at end of things. I’m not going to turn into a diet bore - I still love food, all of shopping, cooking and eating it, I’m just making some more room.
I’m still noticing the difference after qualifying now two years and a bit ago - I have time for projects, such as going out and creeping all over falling-down former military installations (see the Orford Ness Album on the link in the header). I got my first photo published in a book on found faces and a friend’s and my first learned article in a journal that functions as a forum for clinical psychologists. I also see my friends again, sometimes, but I'm pretty insular these days, in that by evening/weekend, I'm often all talked/listened out. I don’t see many people, I don’t see any often and those friends I've managed to hold on to are those that can put up with me occasionally sticking my nose in a book in social gatherings.
I’m about to finally put in my application for British citizenship - the cost (nearly £1000 by the time fees and passport are paid for) put me off for most of the year, but as I’ve made my home here, I’ve decided to go ahead with it. (I suspect sod’s law will have me called on to interminable jury service for a drawn-out, yet not very interesting trial as soon as I am a subject of her majesty’s ;)).
When I asked for suggestions about what to put in this year’s letter, somebody said how lovely it would be to hear what it was little to feel more settled in professionally. In a way, I am, but things have changed so much in the past year that in many more ways, I’m not. I got a new job recently, much of which is with my existing teams, but also the new opportunity of working two days per week in mental health rehab. I’m looking forward to it, but also somewhat apprehensive - I have a good grounding in rehab from my training days, but I’m definitely going to stay in a state of not-knowing-enough. Having trainees also helps with that, as they keep me on my toes. I’m looking into further therapy trainings, some of them more achievable in the shorter term than others, but interesting, and helpful for my patients, and something to aim for. I suspect one of the pathologies within myself that I’m unlikely to shift any time soon is that of the compulsive acquirer of potentially helpful information […]
A number of others have suggested a pirate-related theme for this year's round robin when I asked about what people wanted to know. So here I am, musing about the importance of pirates in the lives of several dear friends, geeky and non-geeky, bookcrossers or otherwise. I remember my introduction to the concept of International Talk Like A Pirate Day, on the occasion of a magnificent treasure hunt through London, when I met some lovely new friends by joining the Dangermice team (There were T-shirts and everything!), getting spectacularly lost and having a grand time during and after, when we all went to the pub. But for me, it started much earlier - I've remembered at least one carnival where I enthusiastically dressed up as a pirate with a particularly fetching tri-corn hat and drawn-on moustache (credit is herewith given to the two friends who have just raised money by growing one them during “Movember” for testicular cancer awareness). Also, there's a picture of me in an inflatable canoe as a toddler, with the the caption "She -loves- boats. No wonder, considering what her father is like!" The only shared holidays I can remember with dad evolved around being by or on the water - the incident in Denmark, with said inflatable canoe and some shots of me enthusiastically trying to crawl right into a wave, the learning-to-sail holiday on a large lake near Munich and his visit when I was spending a year on the coast of Nova Scotia in Canada. I' never noticed this common thread, but it seems obvious now.
There, I was attempting to write about pirates and have written about dad instead, but in a way, it isn't "instead." So many things I associated with pirates also link to dad - he taught me about knots, and a little bit about boats, he could talk like a pirate (Arrrrrrrrrrrh!) and he'd trained on a tall ship as a young marine officer cadet; he spent much of his retirement translation maritime-related novels and grumbling about how the author had clearly got this or that manoeuvre wrong or had not used the right term for this or that piece of equipment and then carefully putting it right, consequently earning rather less per page and doing rather better translations than anyone relying on this kind of thing for money. That's something else I have inherited - I really enjoy doing translations, doing them as well as I am able, for the fun of it, as well as in the guise of an occasional paid piece. I watched Master and Commander a while ago, and each creak of rope and whistle of wind in a friend's surround sound system made me feel on the ship, in a visceral sense I haven't quite experienced before. I kept thinking of how much dad would have liked it, how much fun it would have been to watch it with him, but in a fond, bittersweet sort of way.
As for the other pirate-related things, the ones that I suspect the mischievous commenters were -really- going on about, I am herewith volunteering to be a beautiful, screaming damsel in a highly impractical dress with several skirts. I offer to be in need of rescue from a multiply-mouthed, tentacled denizen of the deep fathoms below while simultaneously being about to fall of a cliff AND abducted by some dastardly officers hoping to blackmail the captain into giving himself up. Any takers, please send the dress - I’ll try my best about the beautiful and the screaming bits.
I’ll be in Germany for Christmas with my mother and sister, and back in England for Hogmanay with the lovely C. and some of our friends. I’ll be raising a glass to absent or departed friends and thinking of you.
All the best to you and yours!
I hope this finds you in good spirits and in enjoyable company!
I’m trying to settle down enough to write the traditional Yule missive with the aid of a compilation of seasonal music put together by a bookcrossing friend now many years ago, when I’d expressed a desire for just such a thing which was shortly followed by a CD in the post. It’s not the night-before-the-last-posting-date, and I won’t drink on a school night, so the wit and wisdom brought on by brinkmanship and a glass of red might be strangely absent.
If this sounds like a person you haven’t previously associated with myself, I’m deeply offended by the besmirching of my virtue you thus imply. I am indulging some of my vices a bit less these days, as I decided to embark on project Body Beautiful in May. I spotted a momentary period of feeling relatively settled with the occasional fleeting glimpse of adequacy at work and joined a weight loss outfit to maintain my ritual self humiliation quota. I’ve since lost 22 kilos (48lbs or 3.5 stone in old money) and decided I might as well try to go all the way to an officially normal weight, but that’ll still be a while. (High time that -something- was officially normal about me). I’ve been going to the gym more and doing that dreaded thing of “building more exercise into my daily routine,” something that’s actually worked out nicely in that, on the way home, I get off the train a couple of stations early, hare along 5 miles of river path on my bicycle and then get on the final leg of my journey. I’m going to the gym more and I’m eating smaller portions of largely whatever I fancy, aiming for the lower-at end of things. I’m not going to turn into a diet bore - I still love food, all of shopping, cooking and eating it, I’m just making some more room.
I’m still noticing the difference after qualifying now two years and a bit ago - I have time for projects, such as going out and creeping all over falling-down former military installations (see the Orford Ness Album on the link in the header). I got my first photo published in a book on found faces and a friend’s and my first learned article in a journal that functions as a forum for clinical psychologists. I also see my friends again, sometimes, but I'm pretty insular these days, in that by evening/weekend, I'm often all talked/listened out. I don’t see many people, I don’t see any often and those friends I've managed to hold on to are those that can put up with me occasionally sticking my nose in a book in social gatherings.
I’m about to finally put in my application for British citizenship - the cost (nearly £1000 by the time fees and passport are paid for) put me off for most of the year, but as I’ve made my home here, I’ve decided to go ahead with it. (I suspect sod’s law will have me called on to interminable jury service for a drawn-out, yet not very interesting trial as soon as I am a subject of her majesty’s ;)).
When I asked for suggestions about what to put in this year’s letter, somebody said how lovely it would be to hear what it was little to feel more settled in professionally. In a way, I am, but things have changed so much in the past year that in many more ways, I’m not. I got a new job recently, much of which is with my existing teams, but also the new opportunity of working two days per week in mental health rehab. I’m looking forward to it, but also somewhat apprehensive - I have a good grounding in rehab from my training days, but I’m definitely going to stay in a state of not-knowing-enough. Having trainees also helps with that, as they keep me on my toes. I’m looking into further therapy trainings, some of them more achievable in the shorter term than others, but interesting, and helpful for my patients, and something to aim for. I suspect one of the pathologies within myself that I’m unlikely to shift any time soon is that of the compulsive acquirer of potentially helpful information […]
A number of others have suggested a pirate-related theme for this year's round robin when I asked about what people wanted to know. So here I am, musing about the importance of pirates in the lives of several dear friends, geeky and non-geeky, bookcrossers or otherwise. I remember my introduction to the concept of International Talk Like A Pirate Day, on the occasion of a magnificent treasure hunt through London, when I met some lovely new friends by joining the Dangermice team (There were T-shirts and everything!), getting spectacularly lost and having a grand time during and after, when we all went to the pub. But for me, it started much earlier - I've remembered at least one carnival where I enthusiastically dressed up as a pirate with a particularly fetching tri-corn hat and drawn-on moustache (credit is herewith given to the two friends who have just raised money by growing one them during “Movember” for testicular cancer awareness). Also, there's a picture of me in an inflatable canoe as a toddler, with the the caption "She -loves- boats. No wonder, considering what her father is like!" The only shared holidays I can remember with dad evolved around being by or on the water - the incident in Denmark, with said inflatable canoe and some shots of me enthusiastically trying to crawl right into a wave, the learning-to-sail holiday on a large lake near Munich and his visit when I was spending a year on the coast of Nova Scotia in Canada. I' never noticed this common thread, but it seems obvious now.
There, I was attempting to write about pirates and have written about dad instead, but in a way, it isn't "instead." So many things I associated with pirates also link to dad - he taught me about knots, and a little bit about boats, he could talk like a pirate (Arrrrrrrrrrrh!) and he'd trained on a tall ship as a young marine officer cadet; he spent much of his retirement translation maritime-related novels and grumbling about how the author had clearly got this or that manoeuvre wrong or had not used the right term for this or that piece of equipment and then carefully putting it right, consequently earning rather less per page and doing rather better translations than anyone relying on this kind of thing for money. That's something else I have inherited - I really enjoy doing translations, doing them as well as I am able, for the fun of it, as well as in the guise of an occasional paid piece. I watched Master and Commander a while ago, and each creak of rope and whistle of wind in a friend's surround sound system made me feel on the ship, in a visceral sense I haven't quite experienced before. I kept thinking of how much dad would have liked it, how much fun it would have been to watch it with him, but in a fond, bittersweet sort of way.
As for the other pirate-related things, the ones that I suspect the mischievous commenters were -really- going on about, I am herewith volunteering to be a beautiful, screaming damsel in a highly impractical dress with several skirts. I offer to be in need of rescue from a multiply-mouthed, tentacled denizen of the deep fathoms below while simultaneously being about to fall of a cliff AND abducted by some dastardly officers hoping to blackmail the captain into giving himself up. Any takers, please send the dress - I’ll try my best about the beautiful and the screaming bits.
I’ll be in Germany for Christmas with my mother and sister, and back in England for Hogmanay with the lovely C. and some of our friends. I’ll be raising a glass to absent or departed friends and thinking of you.
All the best to you and yours!