Another trip down memory lane, continuing with the summer of 2010.
After seeing Macca with Paige, I just hung around her wee Alva flat after she left for America for a bit. It was, again, a good place to do some focussed work and not be distracted by much of anything. Except the Famous Alva Highland Games, which I already posted about ages ago. You can read that again here, if you forgot. The World Cup (football) was going on at the same time, and whereas in January I didn't turn on the tv except to see the New Year's Doctor Who episode (*sob*), this time I had a the matches on (even though I didn't pay that much attention to many of them). I can't help myself-- I just love national sports. Club sports, not so much. Maybe that's why I'm not such a fan of the NFL? Go figure.
Anyway. I was quite lucky to get to be in Alva to work, and I worked hard to get ready to submit by the end of the month. After being robbed (which you can read about here, if you've want to hear the story again), I wasn't sure what I was going to do about finishing-- I had lost my computer, Lynch's loaned computer, and my thumb drive. Even worse, I'd lost the past three weeks' work, a lot of which was fixing footnotes and other busy work. Luckily, however, I managed to get a laptop on loan from the university for a couple of weeks. Generally they hadn't been very helpful with things like offices and information, but this time I lucked out-- they had a laptop that had been returned by a faculty and had not yet been reassigned. They didn't need it for another three weeks, and I was only going to be gone for just over two. Yay! It was a university miracle. It was an older model and not all that great, but it had wireless internet and Microsoft Office, which were really all I needed. I gratefully borrowed it, and gratefully returned it.
I got home to Aberdeen and Kenny told me there was good news and bad news, regarding the break-in. I asked for the bad news first, and found out that the insurance folks weren't going to cover any of my stuff, because they said I was a lodger and should have had my own renter's insurance (even though they had ages before said I wasn't considered a lodger because I wasn't on an official contract...). That meant I would have to buy a new computer, for which I did not have the funds. Yikes. I was not happy. Luckily, the good news was that Kenny is awesome (which I already knew) and that because the insurance company made him angry by that, he just claimed for his stolen laptop and then gave me the new one. He had recently bought himself a new one, and the stolen one was the old one, anyway. So it arrived just a few days after, and I got to finish my thesis on my shiny new Samsung! Have I mentioned that Kenny is the best? Because he totally is, and not just for this. This is only one small example of why he is awesome.
I had intended to submit before Harry Potter's birthday, but due to the loss of work and having to redo so much annoyingly time-consuming stuff, I ended up finishing in time to submit the first of August. Or rather, the second, because the first was a Sunday. But since I was, for all intents and purposes, done, and because I just wanted to, dang it, I had a Harry Potter party! It was 31 July, his birthday, and in celebration of me being done-- because it was the whole HP controversy that got me started down this thesis road to begin with. Lynch, RitaB and Aleithia came, and we had fun. It was a small celebration, but a much-needed one with some of my closest friends. We had custard cremes (and everyone managed to avoid the canary cremes!), cockroach clusters, chocolate frogs, Gryffindor-coloured cupcakes and rice krispy treats and deviled eggs, and Butterbeer! Plus some general party food, like cheeses and other goodies. Basically, we just sat around and ate, but that makes for quite a good party in my book. And that celebration meant that I was officially done with the major part of the thesis. Woot.
You can see all the photos from the month's activities here.
Showing posts with label disaster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label disaster. Show all posts
Monday, 13 February 2012
Monday, 27 September 2010
Quite a Week That Was
One Monday, I had decided I wanted to get my hair all chopped off. It had been growing for nearly three years, and that was long enough. I grow it out so I can donate it to Locks of Love, and I usually try to get it cut while in the States so I can get a nice salon cut for free. This time, though, I couldn't take it any longer. So I made an appointment at the salon across the street, Mokoko. It wasn't cheap, but I had a 40% voucher. I figured it was worth it to get rid of the mane. I booked in for Thursday.
Then on Tuesday I went to have lunch with Lynch. She got an hour break from work, and we went to Subway. It was not a great experience, and I'm not all that sad that they are still closed for flood damage months later. I'll go to the one in the Hub if I ever have sub cravings again. Grrrrr. Of course, it was good to hang out with Liz, as always. Then I went home... and couldn't get into the flat. I thought the lock was stuck, as we've had some trouble with it sticking before. The door was loose in its jamb, but it wasn't open. And I couldn't get the key to turn for anything. I texted Kenny, and went down to sit in the cafe at Morrison's while I waited for him to get off work.
Three hours later, I went back to meet Kenny at the flat. He couldn't get in, either. Eventually he had to just shoulder the door in. We both just thought it was the lock, and he'd bought a replacement a while ago, just waiting for the time we'd need it. There were some random weird things, but nothing really seemed amiss yet. We just thought from all our shoving and shoulder and pounding to get it we'd knocked some stuff loose. While Kenny got to fitting the new lock, I went in to check my email in the lounge.
Wait. Did I leave my lappy in my room? Did I move it? No... it was here... and where's Liz's lappy? Oh. No. Kenny... we've been robbed!
It was horrible. We lost three laptops, both of our diary/filofax/organisers, a gold chain, a wallet with US store cards, a digital camera, and a thumb drive. But on the thumb drive and on my hard drives (well, mine and Liz's I was borrowing) was all my thesis work. All of it. Six years. I was freaking out, to say the least.
I only ended up losing two weeks' worth of work, because my latest draft had been sent to my supervisor two weeks prior (duh), and I had that in my outbox still. So at least there was that... but I had to cancel my UK chequebook (which was a hassle and may be contributing to my current visa problems), change all my login details everywhere, and am still trying to get address and contact details back for everyone (if you want me to have your address and phone number, please email them to me). It was a nightmare. The police came 'round and took our statements, we had to give our fingerprints for exclusion so they could dust (they didn't get anything), and the insureance... well, that's another nightmare in itself. Kenny got two new locks installed while I was away the next week, plus a baseball bat. Well, it's not a real baseball bat-- it's too short and too light. But it's close enough. So we're prepared now.
Then two days later I got my hair chopped off. And then I left for two weeks, to go to Alva and write as if my life depended on it. In a way, it did.
Photos from the haircut and from prior to knowing I'd been robbed and just thinking I'd been locked out are here and here. As always.
I do recommend donating your hair to Locks of Love if you have ten inches or more to cut. I do not recommend getting your flat robbed. Not that you have much choice about that, really. We didn't. I was only gone for two hours... boooo.
Then on Tuesday I went to have lunch with Lynch. She got an hour break from work, and we went to Subway. It was not a great experience, and I'm not all that sad that they are still closed for flood damage months later. I'll go to the one in the Hub if I ever have sub cravings again. Grrrrr. Of course, it was good to hang out with Liz, as always. Then I went home... and couldn't get into the flat. I thought the lock was stuck, as we've had some trouble with it sticking before. The door was loose in its jamb, but it wasn't open. And I couldn't get the key to turn for anything. I texted Kenny, and went down to sit in the cafe at Morrison's while I waited for him to get off work.
Three hours later, I went back to meet Kenny at the flat. He couldn't get in, either. Eventually he had to just shoulder the door in. We both just thought it was the lock, and he'd bought a replacement a while ago, just waiting for the time we'd need it. There were some random weird things, but nothing really seemed amiss yet. We just thought from all our shoving and shoulder and pounding to get it we'd knocked some stuff loose. While Kenny got to fitting the new lock, I went in to check my email in the lounge.
Wait. Did I leave my lappy in my room? Did I move it? No... it was here... and where's Liz's lappy? Oh. No. Kenny... we've been robbed!
It was horrible. We lost three laptops, both of our diary/filofax/organisers, a gold chain, a wallet with US store cards, a digital camera, and a thumb drive. But on the thumb drive and on my hard drives (well, mine and Liz's I was borrowing) was all my thesis work. All of it. Six years. I was freaking out, to say the least.
I only ended up losing two weeks' worth of work, because my latest draft had been sent to my supervisor two weeks prior (duh), and I had that in my outbox still. So at least there was that... but I had to cancel my UK chequebook (which was a hassle and may be contributing to my current visa problems), change all my login details everywhere, and am still trying to get address and contact details back for everyone (if you want me to have your address and phone number, please email them to me). It was a nightmare. The police came 'round and took our statements, we had to give our fingerprints for exclusion so they could dust (they didn't get anything), and the insureance... well, that's another nightmare in itself. Kenny got two new locks installed while I was away the next week, plus a baseball bat. Well, it's not a real baseball bat-- it's too short and too light. But it's close enough. So we're prepared now.
Then two days later I got my hair chopped off. And then I left for two weeks, to go to Alva and write as if my life depended on it. In a way, it did.
Photos from the haircut and from prior to knowing I'd been robbed and just thinking I'd been locked out are here and here. As always.
I do recommend donating your hair to Locks of Love if you have ten inches or more to cut. I do not recommend getting your flat robbed. Not that you have much choice about that, really. We didn't. I was only gone for two hours... boooo.
Friday, 24 September 2010
Thomas
For many of you, this is old news. You heard it back when it happened, either on ViewFinder (this is the link to this story on my photo-a-day blog) or Facebook. For the rest of you, and for posterity's sake here on True Aim, I'll say it again.
We lost Thomas, our older sweet kitty, pretty suddenly. He's had some health issues over the past year or so, but didn't seem to be doing too badly, considering he was sixteen-- and had a very annoying younger brother. Kenny and I had taken him to the vet on a Friday night, they kept him overnight, and called Kenny back on Saturday to put him down. We miss him a lot around here. Still.
Especially Dillon. He whines all the time now, and wants to be right where you are-- even more than before. It's sweet when he wants to be all cuddly... but I can't do anything without him right there. In the kitchen. In the bathroom (I shoo him out first). In my bedroom (when he's fast enough to race in before I can catch him). In the lounge.
The problem is, when I was trying desperately to finish my thesis, he kept wanting to be on my lap. Where my laptop was. That doesn't work so well. Now it's times like now, or when I'm reading, that he's really in the way. Once he settles down beside me, I don't mind so much... but until he settles, he's a pain. Quite literally. He has claws, and dang, they hurt!
Kenny keeps threatening to get another cat to keep Dill company, but I'm not sure I can handle another. I can barely handle this one!
We lost Thomas, our older sweet kitty, pretty suddenly. He's had some health issues over the past year or so, but didn't seem to be doing too badly, considering he was sixteen-- and had a very annoying younger brother. Kenny and I had taken him to the vet on a Friday night, they kept him overnight, and called Kenny back on Saturday to put him down. We miss him a lot around here. Still.
Especially Dillon. He whines all the time now, and wants to be right where you are-- even more than before. It's sweet when he wants to be all cuddly... but I can't do anything without him right there. In the kitchen. In the bathroom (I shoo him out first). In my bedroom (when he's fast enough to race in before I can catch him). In the lounge.
Kenny keeps threatening to get another cat to keep Dill company, but I'm not sure I can handle another. I can barely handle this one!
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Flyicide
Bzzzzzzzz...splat!
This was my life for about two weeks. Suddenly, there were dozens of huge, fat, slow black flies in our lounge windows. Sometimes they were in our kitchen window, as well, but mostly it was the lounge. No clue where they were coming from. I even stuffed the chimney full of newspaper, as Kenny thought that was where they were coming from. Didn't help. At the time, I was in the lounge a lot as I was feverishly finishing the thesis. Or working on it, anyway. I was already stressed. It didn't help that these flies were making me even more twitchy. I was cursing and couldn't sit still... they were making me mad. Crazy. Insane.
We didn't have a flyswat, either. Just a rolled up pieces of newspaper. And lots of smears of dead flies on the windows. And carasses on the floor. I swept up dozens every day, from my murderous rampages. I couldn't help it. It was justifiable flyicide, I swear.
We found out months later that it was because there were dead pigeons in the gutters around the flat above us. Did they get in through the lack of skirting board? I don't know, but that's what I suspect. Cos they weren't getting in the chimney, once I blocked it up. Still, they eventually died out. Thank God. I couldn't take much more.
This was my life for about two weeks. Suddenly, there were dozens of huge, fat, slow black flies in our lounge windows. Sometimes they were in our kitchen window, as well, but mostly it was the lounge. No clue where they were coming from. I even stuffed the chimney full of newspaper, as Kenny thought that was where they were coming from. Didn't help. At the time, I was in the lounge a lot as I was feverishly finishing the thesis. Or working on it, anyway. I was already stressed. It didn't help that these flies were making me even more twitchy. I was cursing and couldn't sit still... they were making me mad. Crazy. Insane.
We didn't have a flyswat, either. Just a rolled up pieces of newspaper. And lots of smears of dead flies on the windows. And carasses on the floor. I swept up dozens every day, from my murderous rampages. I couldn't help it. It was justifiable flyicide, I swear.
We found out months later that it was because there were dead pigeons in the gutters around the flat above us. Did they get in through the lack of skirting board? I don't know, but that's what I suspect. Cos they weren't getting in the chimney, once I blocked it up. Still, they eventually died out. Thank God. I couldn't take much more.
Monday, 13 September 2010
Mini-Break and Maxi-Dog
Way back in May, I took a long weekend for a mini-break to stay with Paige. This time, though, she wasn't in Alva... she was in Auld Reekie. The Capitol. Edinburgh.
Nope, she didn't move. She has a friend at Stirling Uni who lives in Edinburgh, and has a monster dog. Hazel. She's seriously scary... or her tongue is, anyway. It's faster than the speed of light, I swear. Other than that, and her need to tear up with her teeth every growing thing she sees, she's a sweet puppy. So Paige was there flat- and dog-sitting, and as she had just finished a major presentation for uni, she was totally up for a weekend of some fun. And Papa John's pizza.
Oh, Papa John. I wish you were here in Aberdeen. But you aren't. So I have to go to Edinburgh to get you. Paige and I had a perfect plan: delivery. Because they SAY they deliver. And there are two different branches. It's a big city, sure, but not that big, surely. Ha. How wrong we were. They don't deliver to where we were. Pretty much if you aren't in a one-mile radius of their store, you can't get delivery. Which is flippin' ridiculous. Our dinner plans were thwarted by their dastardly delivery deviousness... so we went to Waitrose and bought a for-two curry dinner. It was delish.
The next day we were determined to get our pizza. We spent the day in the city, at the Elephant House for coffee and studying and wandering around. Then we walked out to where the PJs is... about a fifteen minute walk from Princes Street. Not too bad. The plan: get our pizza take-away to-go and then get a bus back to the flat. First part worked fine. Got our pizza (two of them, actually), and headed back to a bus that would take us home. Part two didn't really work out so well. Apparently you aren't allowed to take food on a bus. Really? Because I see people eating on buses all the time. But this driver wouldn't let us on. Grrrrrrr. Here we are, walking around the capitol in the chilly May evening with two big pizza boxes, not to mention all our other bags. Now what?! I was ticked. Seriously ticked. Paige decided we'd just get bags to put the pizza in... which we did. At Whittard's. She bought a pretty reuseable bag that fit her pizza, and got the sales person to give her the biggest plastic carrier bag they had, which *just* fit my huge pizza. On the bus we got. Finally.
By the time we got to the flat, the pizza was no longer hot. But does that matter? Not so much. PJs is just as good cold, and we had a microwave to zap it if we wanted it hot. What did matter, however, was the fact that they forgot to put in the garlic butter dip. WHAT?! Oh good grief. I could not believe it. On top of the rest of the disaster, that was the final straw. Papa John, you have some serious making-up to do to me if you want me to love you like I used to. I'm so disappointed in you.
Other than the pizza debacle, and the monster dog, we wandered around the nice suburb where we were staying. There's a big private school there that Hogwarts could have been partly modeled on. And there is a big park with a pond and lots of water birds and a gorgeous view of the city. We saw swans, and mallards, and other birdies whose names I don't know. We enjoyed the sunset, and the walk. It was lovely.
Mostly we just hung out and laughed a lot. It's just what happens when we get together.
All of the photos can be found in my All Around Amie site here. (If for some reason you can't access it, let me know and I'll send you an official invite. Hopefully it'll just let you in.)
Nope, she didn't move. She has a friend at Stirling Uni who lives in Edinburgh, and has a monster dog. Hazel. She's seriously scary... or her tongue is, anyway. It's faster than the speed of light, I swear. Other than that, and her need to tear up with her teeth every growing thing she sees, she's a sweet puppy. So Paige was there flat- and dog-sitting, and as she had just finished a major presentation for uni, she was totally up for a weekend of some fun. And Papa John's pizza.
Oh, Papa John. I wish you were here in Aberdeen. But you aren't. So I have to go to Edinburgh to get you. Paige and I had a perfect plan: delivery. Because they SAY they deliver. And there are two different branches. It's a big city, sure, but not that big, surely. Ha. How wrong we were. They don't deliver to where we were. Pretty much if you aren't in a one-mile radius of their store, you can't get delivery. Which is flippin' ridiculous. Our dinner plans were thwarted by their dastardly delivery deviousness... so we went to Waitrose and bought a for-two curry dinner. It was delish.
The next day we were determined to get our pizza. We spent the day in the city, at the Elephant House for coffee and studying and wandering around. Then we walked out to where the PJs is... about a fifteen minute walk from Princes Street. Not too bad. The plan: get our pizza take-away to-go and then get a bus back to the flat. First part worked fine. Got our pizza (two of them, actually), and headed back to a bus that would take us home. Part two didn't really work out so well. Apparently you aren't allowed to take food on a bus. Really? Because I see people eating on buses all the time. But this driver wouldn't let us on. Grrrrrrr. Here we are, walking around the capitol in the chilly May evening with two big pizza boxes, not to mention all our other bags. Now what?! I was ticked. Seriously ticked. Paige decided we'd just get bags to put the pizza in... which we did. At Whittard's. She bought a pretty reuseable bag that fit her pizza, and got the sales person to give her the biggest plastic carrier bag they had, which *just* fit my huge pizza. On the bus we got. Finally.
By the time we got to the flat, the pizza was no longer hot. But does that matter? Not so much. PJs is just as good cold, and we had a microwave to zap it if we wanted it hot. What did matter, however, was the fact that they forgot to put in the garlic butter dip. WHAT?! Oh good grief. I could not believe it. On top of the rest of the disaster, that was the final straw. Papa John, you have some serious making-up to do to me if you want me to love you like I used to. I'm so disappointed in you.
Other than the pizza debacle, and the monster dog, we wandered around the nice suburb where we were staying. There's a big private school there that Hogwarts could have been partly modeled on. And there is a big park with a pond and lots of water birds and a gorgeous view of the city. We saw swans, and mallards, and other birdies whose names I don't know. We enjoyed the sunset, and the walk. It was lovely.
Mostly we just hung out and laughed a lot. It's just what happens when we get together.
All of the photos can be found in my All Around Amie site here. (If for some reason you can't access it, let me know and I'll send you an official invite. Hopefully it'll just let you in.)
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