canny folk are sleepin' yet
Oct. 25th, 2004 02:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
timerippleHappy Birthday to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
niare!
Now, I know you're all desperate to know what I've been doing for the past two weeks. You all want to make hundreds of comments about how much you love me and want to read more about Goat-Girl and tell me how the Fiddleheads are doing (has that woad thing happened yet?) and stuff like that. You may also complain about your midterms and I will sympathise, probably using an aorist participle. *ahem* Back to the important stuff.
15 October 2004
Being thoroughly awoken by three singing pigs is no ordinary event. Thank you, Melanie!
16 October 2004
Hair Update: O for a pair of pink Fiskars safety scissors! The split ends are rampant, and I’m not accustomed to my new scissors. For one thing, the handle can’t make up its mind whether it’s blue or black, and the proportions are a little strange. The blades are more suited to cutting paper than making tiny cuts of protein strands, however dry and paper-like they may be.
8-10 October Weekend: IFSA-Butler homestay visit in Insch. More specifically, the countryside surrounding Insch. I was a little wary, but in fact it was a most excellent weekend. My host family was wonderful, from their kind hospitality to their fabulous company; from their horses to their cats who helped to make us welcome. On Saturday we were escorted first to Glenfiddich Distillery, whereupon we gazed, awed, at a whisky bottle with a 40,000-pound price tag. In the gallery was a plaque proclaiming that two members of the founding family inspired the Cheerybles in Dickens’ Nicholas Nickleby. We picnicked at the gloriously ruined Huntly Castle where I had a most triumphant time sticking my nose in dank cellars, peering out of unusually ornate windows, clattering up and down stairways in odd corners, gawking at what might have been stables, following a medieval road “into the past and onto the golf course” (my comment), and looking round every magnificent tree surrounding the ruins. I’m not sure if there’s a connection to Huntlie Bank, but there was a river, and it was the right sort of place; any of several might have been the Eildon Tree in imagination. We drove round up to the coast to see a fishing village used in the filming of a movie called Local Hero, which we saw part of. I especially liked the bit with the rabbit. To round off the evening was a party at the home of one of the host families, complete with a fair amount of squawking from my underused fiddle, as I was threatened with dire consequences if I didn’t play. Luckily somebody dug up a book and was able to figure out some piano accompaniments, so I felt a bit less foolish, having less attention on me, and some of the worst screeches were more or less drowned out.
Tuesday, Session: A funny thing happened. A couple of who I presume to be American tourists, very drunken ones at that, joined us. One of them kept bursting into song in an irritatingly piercing voice at odd moments, and another wandered over and started petting people’s heads asking for a tune. In desperation the old hands turned to me: “Play something, quick!” So during a lull in the caterwauling I dredged up Batchelder’s Reel. I’d no idea I could play it that fast, but play it I did, and with a reasonable amount of success – that is, I could detect no scorn in their faces when I finished, and somebody asked the tune’s name. I may yet turn out a proper fiddler some day! I’m no Natalie MacMaster-at-age-19, but I think I may be improving nevertheless.
22 October 2004
My neighbors have been singing karaoke. The same song. For the past three hours. The tune that has so enraptured them? “All I Want for Christmas is You”.
23 October
I am strangely excited to be writing about Alcaeus’s “ship of state” poetry, although I find my essay topic distressingly vague (or maybe it’s just my philosophy-study-honed tendency to want things stated explicitly. Or maybe I’m still adjusting to linguistic differences out here. For example: apparently when a building is open daily from 9-5 it’s closed on weekends). However, Melanie’s PotC soundtrack is immensely helpful. I am understandably less gleeful about Theognis, although there is one poem of his that I find particularly interesting, and will proceed to quote. Deal with it.
from Miller, Andrew M. Greek Lyric: An Anthology in Translation. pp.83-84, lines 39-52
Kyrnos, this city is pregnant, and I fear that it may give birth to a man
who will chastise and correct our wicked arrogance.
For though the citizens here are still of sound mind, their leaders
are on a fixed course to fall into great wickedness.
No city yet, Kyrnos, has ever been destroyed by noble men;
but when it pleases the base to grow arrogant,
and they corrupt the people and grant judgments to the unjust
for the sake of their own private gain and power,
do not expect that city to enjoy unshaken calm for long,
not even if it lies now in great quietness,
once base men set their hearts on things like these,
gains that come with hurt to the people.
For from these things come factions, the internecine slaughter of men,
and tyrants – may they never be pleasing to this city.
I think we read some of these poems, as well as the bit about Hesiod advising his brother, in Nautical Archaeology. *beams* Good times, good times. I am back on familiar territory and the chocolate biscuits are plentiful.
25 October 2004
Yesterday: castle trip with the Shire. Whee! The program consisted of Linlithgow Palace, then Blackness and Bothwell. In which we climbed many stairs, wandered through empty rooms, crammed ourselves into small dark spaces, and kept a pigeon count. Also, it rained. And then it didn’t. And then it did again. Upon seeing two of us fair maidens sitting genteel-like in the watchtower, someone remarked that it was the perfect place for damsels to sit and embroider and sigh over lost love. I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out what we said in response, but it involved taking over the world, rude words, and the use of the rainpuddle on the floor for the flotation of a model armada.
It was fabulous! If we’d said “Excellent!” one more time, we’d’ve needed a pair of air guitars. All in all a most triumphant weekend.
niare! Now, I know you're all desperate to know what I've been doing for the past two weeks. You all want to make hundreds of comments about how much you love me and want to read more about Goat-Girl and tell me how the Fiddleheads are doing (has that woad thing happened yet?) and stuff like that. You may also complain about your midterms and I will sympathise, probably using an aorist participle. *ahem* Back to the important stuff.
15 October 2004
Being thoroughly awoken by three singing pigs is no ordinary event. Thank you, Melanie!
16 October 2004
Hair Update: O for a pair of pink Fiskars safety scissors! The split ends are rampant, and I’m not accustomed to my new scissors. For one thing, the handle can’t make up its mind whether it’s blue or black, and the proportions are a little strange. The blades are more suited to cutting paper than making tiny cuts of protein strands, however dry and paper-like they may be.
8-10 October Weekend: IFSA-Butler homestay visit in Insch. More specifically, the countryside surrounding Insch. I was a little wary, but in fact it was a most excellent weekend. My host family was wonderful, from their kind hospitality to their fabulous company; from their horses to their cats who helped to make us welcome. On Saturday we were escorted first to Glenfiddich Distillery, whereupon we gazed, awed, at a whisky bottle with a 40,000-pound price tag. In the gallery was a plaque proclaiming that two members of the founding family inspired the Cheerybles in Dickens’ Nicholas Nickleby. We picnicked at the gloriously ruined Huntly Castle where I had a most triumphant time sticking my nose in dank cellars, peering out of unusually ornate windows, clattering up and down stairways in odd corners, gawking at what might have been stables, following a medieval road “into the past and onto the golf course” (my comment), and looking round every magnificent tree surrounding the ruins. I’m not sure if there’s a connection to Huntlie Bank, but there was a river, and it was the right sort of place; any of several might have been the Eildon Tree in imagination. We drove round up to the coast to see a fishing village used in the filming of a movie called Local Hero, which we saw part of. I especially liked the bit with the rabbit. To round off the evening was a party at the home of one of the host families, complete with a fair amount of squawking from my underused fiddle, as I was threatened with dire consequences if I didn’t play. Luckily somebody dug up a book and was able to figure out some piano accompaniments, so I felt a bit less foolish, having less attention on me, and some of the worst screeches were more or less drowned out.
Tuesday, Session: A funny thing happened. A couple of who I presume to be American tourists, very drunken ones at that, joined us. One of them kept bursting into song in an irritatingly piercing voice at odd moments, and another wandered over and started petting people’s heads asking for a tune. In desperation the old hands turned to me: “Play something, quick!” So during a lull in the caterwauling I dredged up Batchelder’s Reel. I’d no idea I could play it that fast, but play it I did, and with a reasonable amount of success – that is, I could detect no scorn in their faces when I finished, and somebody asked the tune’s name. I may yet turn out a proper fiddler some day! I’m no Natalie MacMaster-at-age-19, but I think I may be improving nevertheless.
22 October 2004
My neighbors have been singing karaoke. The same song. For the past three hours. The tune that has so enraptured them? “All I Want for Christmas is You”.
23 October
I am strangely excited to be writing about Alcaeus’s “ship of state” poetry, although I find my essay topic distressingly vague (or maybe it’s just my philosophy-study-honed tendency to want things stated explicitly. Or maybe I’m still adjusting to linguistic differences out here. For example: apparently when a building is open daily from 9-5 it’s closed on weekends). However, Melanie’s PotC soundtrack is immensely helpful. I am understandably less gleeful about Theognis, although there is one poem of his that I find particularly interesting, and will proceed to quote. Deal with it.
from Miller, Andrew M. Greek Lyric: An Anthology in Translation. pp.83-84, lines 39-52
Kyrnos, this city is pregnant, and I fear that it may give birth to a man
who will chastise and correct our wicked arrogance.
For though the citizens here are still of sound mind, their leaders
are on a fixed course to fall into great wickedness.
No city yet, Kyrnos, has ever been destroyed by noble men;
but when it pleases the base to grow arrogant,
and they corrupt the people and grant judgments to the unjust
for the sake of their own private gain and power,
do not expect that city to enjoy unshaken calm for long,
not even if it lies now in great quietness,
once base men set their hearts on things like these,
gains that come with hurt to the people.
For from these things come factions, the internecine slaughter of men,
and tyrants – may they never be pleasing to this city.
I think we read some of these poems, as well as the bit about Hesiod advising his brother, in Nautical Archaeology. *beams* Good times, good times. I am back on familiar territory and the chocolate biscuits are plentiful.
25 October 2004
Yesterday: castle trip with the Shire. Whee! The program consisted of Linlithgow Palace, then Blackness and Bothwell. In which we climbed many stairs, wandered through empty rooms, crammed ourselves into small dark spaces, and kept a pigeon count. Also, it rained. And then it didn’t. And then it did again. Upon seeing two of us fair maidens sitting genteel-like in the watchtower, someone remarked that it was the perfect place for damsels to sit and embroider and sigh over lost love. I'll leave it to your imagination to figure out what we said in response, but it involved taking over the world, rude words, and the use of the rainpuddle on the floor for the flotation of a model armada.
It was fabulous! If we’d said “Excellent!” one more time, we’d’ve needed a pair of air guitars. All in all a most triumphant weekend.
