2025 Week 37

Today would have been Father Hand's 75th birthday. I had quite a vivid dream about him this week, during which we had a conversation, where he told me he was going to go to prison for a while (in a way that made it sound like a choice he was making, rather than due to a crime) and he thought he might give heroin a try, because he'd never tried it and wondered what it was like. I have noted that my dreams have been increasingly more vivid and uncomfortable than ever this summer, but this one was really odd. 

Happy heavenly birthday, Father Hand. Stay off the smack. 

This has been a week of epic length. It started with Mother Z's funeral. She received a terminal cancer diagnosis just before last Christmas and lasted for eight months. During that time, in typical Mother Z fashion, she got absolutely everything relating to her departure organised to the letter, down to the shop where her immediate family were to buy their black funeral suits. She chose the music - recordings of choirs she was in - and the pictures for the slide show. She even wrote her own eulogy. It was exactly as she would have wanted it and it was standing room only. A sad occasion but a good celebration of her long life. 

The rest of the week was a chaotic whirlwind of work. I began with heavy overwhelm but had started to see the wood for the trees by Friday. The to-do list is gradually abating and I have had the 'I need to quit my job' conversation with Mr Z that he reminds me happens every September. There is definitely a little shadow over my shoulder of the dissertation that I have made no further moves with, but it has been less than a fortnight since the launch days so I think I will be OK. 

What else has happened? Hmm, hmm. I spoke at an online conference on Thursday evening. I came down with a horrible cold on Wednesday that swept on very quickly, so I skipped yoga and went to bed at 9pm. Happily I felt better when I woke up, though Mr Z has since succumbed to the same and we wonder if it might be covid. We did at least make it to brunch yesterday. 

Progress was made on the nice goals list. The fancy boots arrived and they are gorgeous and they do actually fit, which is good, really, but I was anticipating sending them back as they were quite spendy. Now I just have to make sure I wear them. I also did a lot of preserving last Sunday (hence the no blogging, I was at capacity) and churned out nine jars of crab apple jelly and six jars of mango chutney. 

I am at row 34 of 50 on the colourwork chart of the Christmas jumper and feeling slightly less worried about running out of yarn: for some stupid reason, I bought the yarn required for a size L when I was in Oslo over the summer, as opposed to the 2XL that I am knitting. This isn't an easy problem to fix: according to the pattern, I am 100g of sport weight and 50g of laceweight short. However, based on current progress, I think I will be OK. I have some ideas for getting round it if I run out, anyway, here they are in order of preference: knit it slightly cropped; add green bands to the sleeves/waist to save on the white; knit it with elbow-length sleeves; contact the yarn shop and ask if they can ship me some more; find someone in Oslo and ask them if they can go into the shop, buy some and send it to me. I think the most likely scenario is that I will have enough sport weight but run out of laceweight, but as they're carried together, I can get more of the laceweight (which is more easily available in the UK, thankfully) and even though the dye lot will be different it probably won't be THAT noticeable. It is the undyed colourway, after all. 

To go with the knitting, I had to find some things to watch, so I worked my way through the first eight episodes of Ken Burns's Vietnam War, which was actually much better than I was anticipating. Then it was removed from Now TV, because of course it was. Trying to decide if I want to see the end enough to buy the final episodes on Amazon Prime. I reckon if I just wait long enough, it will pop up on another service. The Mr Z declared it was time to rewatch The Wire (I never finished it all on the first watch through anyway) and I decided today that I would give Yellowstone a try. The jury is out. I like the landscapes but it doesn't really feel like it is for me. 

Tuesday Ten

Ten goals (plus two more goals) to achieve in autumn (deadline: November 1st). 

I made a list. It had ten things on it. Then I went to Oxford and my friend Poppy told me she was going to be in a play and so I added her to it. Then I remembered the very spendy boots I wanted to buy last year and had been dithering over again throughout August, so they made it onto the list too. So now it's 12, not 10. But I think a 'number of gym visits' goal doesn't really count, does it? 

No wait, it does. Tuesday twelve is better than Tuesday eleven. 

The boots are arriving tomorrow. The kitchen is full of preserves. The Christmas jumper is on the needles. I smell like some kind of apple and pumpkin pie. Autumn, I am in you. 

Summer holiday goals

I mentioned in my last post that I wrote a summer holiday list, inspired by an online friend who did the same to try to give his summer a bit of structure. It made me nostalgic for when I used to do monthly goal-setting on this blog. I'm not going to say I will restart because, well, yknow, I don't need any more deadlines in my life to feel guilty about not meeting. But I liked this and am going to work on an autumn version. 

Not too bad at all. I tried to keep it mixed and all fun stuff. Ginge is my car and Mr Z washed it for me last week, love him. 'Night out with friends' was my slightly more sanitised version of 'get drunk' because I never allow that anymore, I can never afford to lose the next day to the inevitable eye-wateringly early wake up and therefore essential afternoon nap that a lot of alcohol causes, but I decided this was me being a bit too controlling of myself and so we had the wine flight with the tasting menu in Oslo and then went for cocktails after. It is classic me to aim to get drunk in what must be the second soberest capital in Europe (our tour guide told us Norway is a lot of seconds...second greenest capital, second highest coffee consumption...). 

The house clean jobs turned into a bit of a decluttering mission but I think that's OK. I pulled out all the bags that were jumbled by the fridge and counted them...why did I need 64 reusable shopping bags, when I do the vast majority of my grocery shopping online?

Spot the horrified Lenin in picture one, appalled that a new space has become available to explore in the kitchen but there is this enormous barrier suddenly in front of it. 

It was quite hard getting rid of some of these, turns out I am weirdly emotionally attached to some bags, but I was inspired by the tote that said 'collect memories not things' (the irony) and so over half of these got donated to the local foodbank. I also had eight kitchen aprons, of which I need to ditch six. Sorting for charity shop and ragging must surely be a job for this next season. 

I didn't mean to count PT sessions and yoga towards the gym visits so really I only made it to five. I intended to go today but, here I am, just clearing the decks before I pop off to Oxford for my dissertation workshops, so I guess I paid them for the month of August and didn't use it. But that's OK. I am looking forward to getting back to it.

I will have to put the kayak on the autumn list. I haven't had her out once yet this year, shame. 

2025 Week 35

Remember back when I did my week 29 post and said, how different things will be when it's week 39 and how far off that seems? Ah, fun times. It's the last day of the summer holidays today...well, actually, it's the penultimate day, because school starts back on Tuesday. Right up until Friday morning, I thought school started on Monday. It's moot because I'm in Oxford Mon/Tue anyway, but ... wow. Wow.

It's been, of course, another full on week of crazy variable work stuff. I finished my assignments with a little time to spare (hours, not days) - one, I loved and wanted to do more of; the other, well, let's hope the people marking it don't find it as deathly boring as I did. It definitely convinced me that I am not cut out to be a quantitative researcher. 'It just has to pass' became the mantra. Then I had to write a dissertation proposal which I was fixated on and just couldn't do, so I submitted some awful cough in the direction of a document, just because I had to get it off my list. I have had somewhere over 100 re-marks to do, which I finished today. A small but important bit of other exam board work. And then I checked my school email on Friday morning and found that the head had added a 45 minute inset day slot on something that is my responsibility, which I had to plan and give to her to deliver. In her defence she sent it on Tuesday and I hadn't looked but, yeah. I had a list of school things to do already and therefore none of them have been done yet. 

Meh. I can only do what I can do. Let's not even mention the three events I'm speaking at in the next month, the school course I'm doing that I need to prep for and that article I said I would write for a magazine, that is due some time this week. Lol. 

Anyway, enough whining. Let's all remember that I do choose to say yes to these things. 

I have (in amongst all this because why not) been to Mother Hand's for a few days this week as she rented a beach hut. It wasn't really beach hut weather but we did try to make it work. We got up early on Thursday and managed to get to the beach in a brief window of sun, only with some rain around the edges so we got treated to a beautiful beach rainbow, well played, Portsmouth. 

I caught a (much delayed) train home on Thursday and then went for some drinks with local history teacher friends for an end-of-summer debrief. This sort of marked the end of the holiday for me as Friday was spent at work, although on Saturday, Mr Z and I did manage a brunch and we watched two episodes of The Last of Us while I wound yarn for my next knitting project. 

On that - I finished knitting the UV unicorn jumper for the niece, it looks AMAZING under the UV torch I bought to go with it. Sadly they did not come to hang out on Wednesday so she doesn't have the jumper yet, but hopefully she will love it. 

I'm now winding the wool for a Christmas jumper, Kristtjørn by Hanne Rimmen. I bought the green and red yarn in Oxford and the white in Norway this summer (the yarn shop lady helped me pick it out and told me Oslo was a city of around a million people that supported at least 20 knitting shops - further evidence that Norway is somewhere I could live). Unusually for me, I think I will knit a proper swatch for this one, since I probably only have time to knit it once before Christmas. I'd also like to use up the UV yarn on a small jumper for the nephew, though, so we will see how I get on. 

After a summer of many novels, there hasn't been much reading this week, probably because I'm trying to make myself read a book for work, which usually results in just, no reading happening at all. I have been reading an ancient children's book called Lone Pine Five that Mother Hand returned to me, I don't remember it at all but then I read millions of books as a child so that's probably to be expected. 

As I said, we've been watching The Last of Us and have one episode left. I finished my Sex and the City rewatch and started AJLT season 3 but I am already disappointed with it. I want to watch the new Clarkson's Farm, the Ken Burns Vietnam War series (I don't really want to but it has been so highly recommended by someone whose opinion I would normally value, that I feel I must try) and The Phoenecian Contract, which I see is out to rent online, another sad story for our cinemas. I might see if it is still playing anywhere before I rent it. 

While I am trying to get away from the 'every second of my life must be meaningful' vibe, I might make a list of things I'd like to achieve in the autumn. Every year, I get to November and feel like I've missed out on the whole apples, leaves, pumpkins thing. I made myself a summer holiday list which was not completed, but helped me think about things I really wanted to do, so maybe it's time to do that for the next season. 

Ooh! And I almost forgot the good health news, that arrived at the end of July. Following a second blood test, the surgery has declared that I am officially in remission from diabetes. Yey me! My sugars are still in the pre-diabetic range so there is no reason yet to stop, but the nurse was very pleased with my progress. Zoe said, 'So you were diabetic for what, like, five minutes?' - a quote I shall hang on to. Hopefully I can continue to make progress in this area of my life also. In all my copious free time.

Library Confession

I took a book back to the library today that I've had since 2020. I did not know I still had it. I am recording the episode here because the librarian didn't seem to understand what I was telling her and I feel the need to confess fully, for avoidance of doubt.

Firstly, I have the utmost respect for libraries and value them highly. Mother Hand worked in a library throughout her pregnancy with me so I feel we have a special bond (me and libraries, I mean). 

Here's how it happened. I wanted an obscure history text I heard some nerdy history teachers discussing. It was only available online for megabucks, so I turned to the library system. There was one copy available, but it was in the stack of the library in the next city over. No matter, I thought, I am not in a hurry. This was around about December 2019. 

The book took awhile, obviously. I got the notification of its arrival around February 2020. That was a busy month for me, I had a ski trip and a huge job interview to worry about, so by the time I made it to the library to collect, it was March. I went in during the unmanned hours as this was the only time I had. The book was so old and neglected, it wouldn't scan through the self-service. I tried several times. I even tried to see if I could type in the barcode, but no dice (this was where the librarian started to either not believe me or misunderstand me). 

I considered for a while and decided I would just take the book. Nobody had checked it out for over a decade. I would come back with it during manned hours to check it out properly. 

Well. We all know what happened next. Due to the pandemic, the book stayed with me, unchecked out. Shamefully, I did not read it. It inched gently under the pile of books by my bed, until it was at the very back of the very bottom. Meanwhile, I sourced a copy to buy for not many pence, in the USA, and had it sent to Father Hand for me to collect on my nest visit. In a classic Father Hand-me interaction, he read it and gave me an overview - 'Interesting enough, but it is a textbook'. I collected it when I saw him last. 

Fast forward to this summer, when the pile o'books was finally dismantled. Oh, the shame of finding the book languishing there! I resolved I would take it into the library to explain myself, rather than surreptitiously drop it in the returns box, anonymously.

The librarian gave me short shrift. She told me to hang around while she checked to ensure I had not amassed a hefty fine (I would have loved this, I am constantly running up small fines as a way of contributing funds to the library system, on account of our special bond). Turns out, the book has dropped off the system. This news was delivered in an accusatory way, though I do wonder, was it on the system when I got it? - because it wouldn't scan. The librarian did manage to stop short of rolling her eyes but it was clear my (to my mind, very rational) explanation was falling on barren ground. She would return it to the relevant authority, she said. 

So now, it is here. My confession. I did do a terrible thing, but in my defence, I would never steal a book from a library on purpose. I was just a victim of circumstance. And untidiness. 

The 2025 Grand Tour

This summer, I was inspired to travel with a bit less flying, by my knitting group friend Jess, who completed a two-month-long interrailing trip this year with her partner. I was also keen to go back to Puglia, which I think I can crown as my very favourite place to go on holiday, at least within Europe; at least in the summer. 

Thus, an epic adventure of trains, ferry and one flight home was born. We did as we have done for the past few years: I planned the route and the transport, Zoe provided a selection of hotels that I then booked for us (she is epic at picking good hotels). I thought I'd write up what we did so this post is massive but you don't have to read it, you know, free will is a thing. 

Stage 1: Train London-Milan, three nights in Milan

We took the 9.30 Eurostar to Paris, which gave us around a 2 hour layover to get across the city to Gare de Lyons: ample time for a Parisian lunch and lounge in the sunshine. From there, we took a Frecciarossa train to Milan, which took around 7 hours. The line we took only reopened this past spring, having been closed for a number of years thanks to rock fall. I did think, when we were doing it, that we could sensibly have done this as an overnight train, but the views were so stunning. We went through Oulx, which has prompted me to consider ski-training it to Sauze d'Oulx (my favourite ski resort) at some point for a holiday. The train was very busy but comfortable enough. 

We stayed at the fancy Chateu Montfort, next to a tram stop and a metro stop, roughly 20 minutes' very slow ambling from the city centre. Fantastic spa, I loved it, and super-helpful staff. Spendy, but we usually do spendy for the first few days of the trip, when we most need to rest. We went to the Pinacoteca di Brera, the Duomo and, of course, to the see the Last Supper. 

Stage 2: Train Milan-Bari, four nights in Bari

Another Frecciarossa and this time with spectacular views of the Adriatic coastline for most of the journey. The aircon in our carriage sadly broke so we got (eventually) moved into business class: next time, I think I would book the business seats from the start as they were not that much dearer. The train was also nearly an hour late arriving, which is odd for Italy. I had multiple emails in Italian explaining how I could claim some of the fee back. Maybe I will get round to it. 

We stayed in an apartment in the old town. People were generally a bit nose-wrinkly about us staying in Bari because it's a big port city so, I guess, a bit like staying in Southampton - ie, why there when there are lots of gorgeous places nearby? But it suited us. Great transport links, not masses to see so you didn't feel bound to be constantly out wandering, and really nice breezy climate. We did a couple of day trips, one to Polignano a Mare by train and one organised coach tour to Alberobello and Matera - this on that last day, and they were able to stow our luggage on the coach for the whole day, which was very handy. 

If I had to do it again I might choose Brindisi instead. It's a bit further south, so a bit easier to reach the prettiest coastline and also Lecce, which I would have liked to have revisited. 

Stage 3: Ferry to Albania, one night in Durres, five nights in Tirana

We took an overnight Adria ferry from Bari to Durres in Albania. This was cheap enough that we could afford a two-berth cabin with a window to the outside and saved us a night's hotel fee. Bari port was a little confusing, not many signs or people to ask for info and very few announcements; we walked in at the old town end, by passport control, where a security guard told us we needed to take the shuttle bus to check in and then shuttle back. This we did. I wanted to note that Google Maps told us we couldn't enter the port at the old town end unless we did so by bus - instead, it indicated that we needed to walk for over an hour to get in at the check-in end. This isn't correct, don't panic. 

We queued at passport control for well over an hour with no sign of any staff and then eventually a man came and announced something, so half the people started queuing elsewhere. Unfortunately, he announced in Italian and very quietly so we couldn't hear him anyway (strong shades of Laura Ramoso's Chiara character here). For a while we haplessly stood around. Then Zoe went to ask someone and it turned out it was the queue for our ferry, while everyone else was standing in a queue for another ferry to Durres leaving an hour later. Clear as mud. When we got through passport control (shout out to the Port of Bari passport control people for being the most sullen I have come across, possibly ever - please do consider getting other jobs as this one clearly makes you miserable) we were left with no indication of where our ferry was, and nobody to ask. Someone else in our position had to go back to ask the grumpy passport people. 

I mention this only because obviously I did extensive Googling while waiting in the queue and couldn't find much, if any, information about going out through the Port of Bari as a foot passenger. If this is you: it will be fine. Ask lots of questions. I'd also say that, in common with many large passenger ferries, they don't really have a process for managing foot passengers. There was very little information, even on the boat, about where to go. So, you have to hold your nerve. Perhaps I should have booked direct with Adria instead of using Direct Ferries, they might have sent through more information. 

After all that palaver, the ferry ride was mercifully delightful. Very comfortable cabin, the crossing was extremely smooth, the shower was a bit dribbly but very welcome. We slept soundly all the way until it was almost time to get off and breakfast was widely served, though we did not partake. It was difficult, again, to get off the ferry - various staff kept telling us to wait to be called, as foot passengers, but eventually it became obvious that nobody was going to call so we walked off while they were still unloading the lorries. 

Durres port had no bureau de change, that we could find, and a very punitive ATM, which we had to use because we needed lek to pay for our hotel. It charged me around £18 of fees to withdraw £250. Still recovering. We planned a slow walk to our hotel, in stages, as we were very early to check in and it was about an hour and 10 minutes' walk, but they said this wasn't wise an booked us a taxi. The taxi driver was not prepared for the last 2km to be gravel road though I was then quite relieved we hadn't tried to walk it. 

We spent one night in Durres at the Kallmi Eco Rooms. One night was not enough. We were stupid and should have booked two nights. Once again, people were a bit nose-wrinkly about Durres as a holiday destination; this was a little north of the port but it also seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The two-room hotel was attached to a beach club and, as Zoe and I had booked both rooms, we essentially had the beach and surroundings to ourselves when everybody went home for the day, and before they arrived in the morning. I had a very peaceful and private swim the next morning. The hotel let us lounge in the private garden until our rooms were ready and really pulled out all the stops to be helpful, booking us a taxi for the next day and even providing a cat. We had the freshest fish for dinner and a sumptuous breakfast. 

It was paradise. 

Anyway, then off to Tirana, the taxi was about 45 euros which we felt was very reasonable, particularly as we had no interest in figuring out the buses. This is what back-packing looks like when you're both in well-paid jobs and unwilling to put up with any unnecessary discomfort (aka, middle aged). 

We stayed in an apartment in Tirana close to Skanderberg Square. It was a lovely studio, with a bed on a mezzanine platform that unfortunately was a little bit too protected from the aircon. The apartment building next door to us was also being torn down and work on this went on until at least midnight every night. The first night was the worst as the active destruction meant our whole building was shaking on the regular; the other nights, they were just trucking away the rubble, so it was just noisy. And dusty, so dusty. But the place was very good value and they weren't to know this would be going on. 

We did a couple of day trips out of Tirana: to Berat, and to the Albanian Alps ('the Accursed Mountains') with a hike to the Blue Eye for swimming. I was very excited about this one as I read a book about this area when I had just finished uni and was keenly anticipating seeing a reconciliation tower. Sadly the guide did not take us there. Nor did he guide the whole party to the Blue Eye - just the half that were at the front. We hung out and swam in the river for an hour before he reappeared, much too late to take us to the end destination. Very disappointing. I keep telling myself that I would have been very happy with my hike and swim had I not known that I missed out on swimming through a waterfall, but ... sad face. Maybe I will go back again some time. 

We also did a little explore of Tirana: BunkArt2, a secret police museum housed in a former nuclear bunker; a tasting dinner at Cerem Ismet Shehu in the castle and more traditional food at Oda; an explore of Skanderberg square. Lazy lunches at Luara bakery. It was a very pleasant city to walk around.  

So that was Il Grande Tour of 2025, with only one flight involved and no car rental. I can recommend all of it. If I was changing anything, I'd consider Brindisi instead of Bari and spend longer at the beach in Albania than in the city. I think I could also have done a bit more research into things to do, particularly in Tirana, as I wonder if we missed out on anything that was must-see. But then, nobody wants to do too much on holiday. Next year I am quite keen to just go to one place, for a change. Unpacking would be nice. 

For logistics - all train tickets booked on the Trainline (even the ones in Puglia, it was easier than figuring out the machines); all accom booked on Booking.com; ferry booked on Direct Ferries; most of the tours booked on Viator which meant the Berat one was half price as they offer rewards. The internet, eh? Makes things so easy. 

2025 Week 30

Nearly gave myself a little jolt there by typing 'Week 40' I thought - surely we are not that close to the end of the year. Thankfully not. Though let us dwell momentarily on what things might look like by week 40 of this year - the assignments will be in and the marks received; the dissertation topic will be chosen and the work will be underway; mark reviews will be pretty much completed; hopefully the next ski holiday will have been booked; the tasks I need to do for the start of the new school year will be complete, or will no longer matter. 

I have spent much of the past week working on said assignments, though not as much as I should have done. I am meant to be working on the least favourite of them now, but find myself doing some extra bits of exam work that have come through today and chipping away at this blog post. I'm not sure if it's self-sabotage, a hint of burnout or just plain being stuck that is to blame for that. The preferred assignment is going well - so well, in fact, that I divined I might well spend all my available time on it and then fail the other one (I have already resigned myself to barely scraping a pass and am wondering what might happen if I did indeed fail, but since the answer is undoubtedly that this would just mean I have to work on it EVEN MORE and in September, when I'm busier...well, fine) so I have had to set it aside for now. 

In true navel-gazing style, I have been trying to work out what it is about this that is causing me so much stress. Whenever I make a concerted effort to actually do some work on it, I feel much happier and more hopeful about the whole thing. As soon as I stop, or look through what I haven't yet done, I just feel completely overwhelmed and out of my depth. Is this a feature of me as a learner? It has been an extraordinarily long time since I've done anything that I found academically challenging. As in, I can't actually remember a time. Maybe Year 9 algebra, with poor Father Hand explaining it to me over and over again on the phone from Florida. Maybe that assessment course I did with the exam board in 2016, writing those assignments was not fun, but they were short and a simple pass/fail. 

I think a big part of it also is that there is so much (SO much) that I don't understand. I read studies similar to the one I'm supposed to be writing, as we've been advised to do, and it's like reading something in a foreign language. I cannot write something similar because I simply don't know what they're on about. 

Anyway. This isn't helping, obvs. I just wanted to record it because the process of being a learner is currently so difficult and I need to somehow grasp on to this and remember it when I'm back in my classroom. I maintain that learning history can never be this difficult because it doesn't involve impossible tasks like testing for biases...oh actually. Yes, I did just write that and yes, I am having a word with myself. 

Other new this past week. We got to the end of the exam work on the predicted day: this is the first time that has ever happened, hurrah. I went to the gym four times, to yoga and to swim in the quarry, which is pretty warm now. I opted to do the oft-closed 750m loop but it felt waaaaaay more than 200m longer than the regular route and I was pretty tired by the end of it. My Z and I went for a nice brunch up the 'wood which is becoming a very pleasant habit. I tentatively packed for a little holiday I should be going on this week, to Oslo, though it may not go ahead as Mother Z is very unwell. 

We finished watching The Good Wife and I was reminded again how women in American TV series cannot ever really be strong and independent, enjoy sex or have power, without being ultimately punished in their story arc. Not much reading happened, I chipped away at Seven Killings but am put off by the fact it is a physical book and I need to take my Kindle on holiday, for space reasons, so I started Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi, which is proving very readable so far. 

Back to the assignments!

Weird Gym Man

As a woman who has been a confident free-weight user for over a decade now, I frequent the free weights area of the gym regularly. I am always on the prowl for anybody out to give me guidance. In case you weren't aware, there is a large body of evidence out there demonstrating that (in particular) men like to interfere with (in particular) women's technique, weight load, just general business when they're in the free weight area. Some women are so intimidated by this that they won't use the free weights section. This sort of thing is why there are women-only gyms. I expect there are men who are intimidated as well but I haven't come across any stories about this. 

Not me, though. I am practically begging for someone to come at me. I have honed my icy glare, my single raised eyebrow, my polite but definite eye roll. I have good technique and I lift heavy. Please, let's talk. 

Well, I thought this was the case, anyway. Years passed with no interaction. I suspect I was becoming one of those horrible intimidating gym bros myself, so often did I scoff internally (and we know this internal scoffing can always be read on my face, I give everything away) at poor technique or not re-racking weights or not wiping down after use or, my personal bugbear, men staring at their phones for 10 minutes between sets. 

(I don't want to make it a gendered thing but it just is, at least at my gym). 

Fast forward to last month. I have my usual gym turn out - loud music in noise-cancelling earbuds, no glasses so I can't really see anything beyond the equipment I'm using, refusal to meet anybody's eye. I'm setting up for deadlifting. I've waited a while to use the deadlift platform. Man walks into the deadlift platform in order to retrieve the Olympic bar that I had intended to set up to superset squats with deadlifts. 

Admittedly, he perhaps wasn't to know that, but I think it's bad form to walk into someone's workout space and take something from it without asking. My face says this, loudly. He scuttles off with the bar to the chest press rack I have recently vacated - the one with the Olympic bar in the rack next to it, where I had placed it, where he sets it up to do the exercise I had just finished. I am confounded.  

For a short time, I consider just modifying my work out, but in the end I decided I can go and retrieve the Olympic bar not in use for my squats. I do this, trying not to make eye contact or talk, but it turns out, his stolen bar is in the way, so I have to ask him to move. He speaks but I pretend not to hear or notice, in case he's trying to tell me off. It turns out that all my bravado is worthless in the face of potential confrontation. I return to my area and do my deadlifts and squats combo. It's hard. I'm slow and tired and sweating. 

At some point, Weird Gym Man comes back to the deadlift area and sets up the deadlift hex bar on the mats next to me. He puts 30kg on. This adds up to about half what I'm deadlifting (interior smile). There is, again, some attempt to talk to me, particularly when I am re-racking weights, but again, I pretend not to notice. It's not that hard to do this as I have become temporarily mostly deaf and blind. But eventually, his persistence gets to the point where I just can't ignore him anymore. 

Him: I said, you have a strong back

Me: Er...yes

Him: You're stronger than me

Me: Yes. Well, it has taken a while (thinking: I weigh a lot more than you)

Him: What's the heaviest you've done?

Me: Er...I did 120kg once. But it was a long time ago

Him: But you're lifting 90 there and you make it look like it's floating

Me: (I didn't think this sort of interaction was supposed to be so ego-boosting) Thanks...haha...er, well like I said, it's taken a while

Him: I reckon you could do 200kg easy. That's what I'm training towards. If you watch the world's strongest man, they do maybe 1-3 reps of a very heavy weight and then they don't deadlift again for a couple of weeks

Me: Oh, right, well I do it [this way]

Him: I guess that's one way to go. I am no expert. I can guarantee you that within 18 months, I'll be deadlifting heavier than anyone else in this gym but you...you'll be a close second

Ahhhhh! There it is! Wow, I cannot WAIT to be a close second to Weird Gym Man. That's going to be a CV-worthy accomplishment, particularly considering he is currently nowhere near a close second to me. 

The positive of this is that he has made me lift heavier. I tend to wait until I can do three sets of 10 at a weight for a few weeks, before going up. I am going up quicker now. Tbf, lifting very heavy is not really my goal. I am strength training for (1) better skiing ability and, at a distance behind that, (2) higher resting metabolism because I still eat too much and (3) better health in my old age. But the very idea that Weird Gym Man might outstrip me has lit a fire under me. 

We have had a couple more interactions now. Once I was using the chest press and he wanted it next. I asked him if he wanted my weight. 'No! You're much stronger than me! For now...give it 6 months though...' (oh, we're down to 6 now!) and then I sprayed the bench down and he told me how pointless he thought all this wiping of sweat was. We're in a gym, everyone sweats, why do you bother with that? I resisted the urge to point out the multiple signs instructing gym users to wipe down their equipment and muttered something about it being a habit since covid. He wouldn't let it drop though. I had to do an awkward 'oh heart rate's dropping, gotta go exercise some more' to get away. Now I moved him firmly into Weird Gym Man territory because nobody not weird likes other people's sweat THAT much, surely. 

I have moved deadlifting to Friday's session for the summer holiday. I still go on a Sunday, though. Quite often he is chatting to someone who looks like they've been caught at home by a double-glazing salesman, so I'm thinking - just socially awkward. Last Sunday, I clocked him, recognisable even to my glasses-free blur by his unusual sartorial choice of dark t-shirt and white shorts. He came and dangled off the bar next to where I was doing pull-downs. I fastidiously ignored him. 

Now I will shorten him to WGM so if you're reading future entries and wonder who that is - here is the key. I have noticed a surprising amount of traffic to my blog lately, you ten regulars are joined by 80-100 more readers in the week or so after I've posted, so I can only assume I'm being crawled by 80-100 LLMs who are learning my writing style for nefarious AI purposes. Joke's on them, LLMs are never going to be in with the chance of being a close second to a WGM. 

2025 Week 29

School's out! We broke up on Tuesday and, for the first time in many years, I didn't join in the partying at the end of term, because I had a root canal (second half) at 8am the following morning. The weather was grey and windy so I went swimming in the quarry, a swim I booked some week ago so of course the weather was bad. The water was warm compared to the wind and I was reluctant to get out at the end; I really felt like I had left the school year behind me when I eventually stepped back onto dry land. As if by magic, the work issue I had been turning over in my mind for a week without solution solved itself on the drive home. Some school work needs to happen some time, but it can happen in the future. 

Meanwhile, the exam marking finished, then it finished a bit more, then it finished completely - days earlier than it usually would. I'm working through the endless reading that goes on at the end of the process but it has been managed differently this year, so the work is a small fraction of previous years' (243 half scripts to read, as opposed to 900 full scripts. No, I have not got those numbers wrong) and it's all set up on a nice online system for me, instead of me having to open 1800 separate pdfs and fill in 60 separate Word docs. Common sense finally prevailed - at least for this year. The reading and the reports represent the final tasks of the series, bar the mop up, which means I should be finished a full week earlier than usual. 

This is just as well, because rumbling in the background of this are the two MSc assignments that I really just need to get on with. Some of that has happened this weekend and I am trying to force myself into the work, on the basis that if I can continue to work hard now, I won't have to take any work on holiday with me. And I could do with the break. 

Oh yes, the root canal! Don't read this if you don't like tooth things. Back in November I had an abscess that absorbed two rounds of antibiotics but did not actually go away. It didn't hurt, that was the main thing. Every so often I'd get a weeping pustule on my gum (lovely) but - it didn't hurt. I had a check up booked for April so I waited. That check up got pushed to the end of May. The dentist x-rayed me and said words you really would prefer not to hear from the dentist: 'The human body never ceases to amaze me'. Rather than heal, the infection had spread from the old root canal it had been festering around to the tooth that had actually hurt last November, even though it had been infection free. No, it doesn't make sense. Yes, it necessitated a root canal. The dentist, Bianca, love her, got me in for said root canal last Friday, only after an hour of drilling, terrifying words like 'calcified' and 'sclerotic' and appalling smells, she was not even close to finished. 'My next available appointment is on August 1st,' she said as she patched me up, and I nearly cried. All weekend long I religiously double-dosed ibuprofen and paracetamol every four hours, including through the night, and it had thankfully lessened to a dull ache by Monday morning, sort of like a jaw punch. I stalked my emails, waiting for the appointment. Happily she squeezed me in on Wednesday - happy holidays! - and managed to get it finished. I was braced for another 48 hours of horrible pain but it hasn't materialised. 

I have to say that a silver lining to having such terrible teeth is that I don't get so phased by the dentist anymore. I was almost asleep in the chair on Friday. I would prefer to have good teeth, though. I think it would be one of my mythical three wishes - perfect teeth, teleportation, the ability to speak, read and write all known languages fluently. I'd be unstoppable. 

What has happened since then? Not much. I've been to the gym twice, woo - I've been missing my Sundays lately. I'd kept up quite a good streak of Sundays until marking season hit. This reminds me that I have a Weird Man At The Gym to write about, the falling off of the weeknotes means he remains in obscurity for now but I will try to come back and write about him some time this week, when I'm avoiding my assignments. He was there today but I successfully ignored him, something that doesn't happen very often. 

I went to knitting for the first time in a little while and made a start on a unicorn jumper for the niece. I figured out I might see her in the last week of August so I would like to finish it for then. It would make perfect train knitting for my upcoming rail adventure to Milan and then Bari. 

I've been reading a bit of A Brief History of Seven Killings which I bought in May last year when I heard Marlon James speak at Toppings. I know it's going to be all-consuming but I haven't really got into it yet. What I really need is that Thursday Murder Club book I bought for light reading and have now put somewhere safe and can't find. We continue to rewatch The Good Wife which takes very little effort and I continue to be jealous of how many banging red jackets the female cast members have between them. It's not fair, I can't find even one red jacket that isn't really a strong orange. 

This week? Getting things DONE. Hopefully. 

Weekend FO

This is from a weekend some time almost a month ago, but it still counts. 

As an aside, I really love these new red shorts I got from Boden. The only sad thing is that Boden seems to have been the victim of its venture capitalists because the quality is just really poor compared to what it once was, so I'm already mourning this gorgeous red colour, which I fear can't last more than this summer. 

This is the Tolsta tank from my last post - square neck version. The only mod is that I went down a size during the body of the top, by decreasing 4 stitches every 6th row until I got to the stitch count for size 4. 

It took about two skeins of the Namolio yarn, so maybe 600m, and I love the glimmer from the secret strand of sparkly linen thread. 

Nothing else has been cast on yet but I have wound the yarn for the niece's unicorn jumper, I just need to look away from my phone for long enough to cast on. Well, if I have to be honest, the blocked is that the pattern is not immediately to hand. I know it cannot be far away, probably it has fallen down the back of the sofa, but mental energy has been somewhat lacking as I mark and mark and mark and then spend much of the rest of my time worrying about the aforementioned university assignments. I did make a start on one them 10 days ago but it made me cry so I have not been back to it since. The very opposite of a sensible, rational reaction. 

Still, school's out now. Today I have seen the dentist, the optician and the beautician. The house is filthy but relatively tidy. The end of marking is in sight. It's two weeks until my first holiday. Time to get cracking. 

Weekday WIP

Whirr, whirr, continues the brain, full of all the things I want to do but constrained in a tiny box called 'only 24 hours in a day'. And of course now it is exam season so nothing can happen for ages, apart from those two MSc assignments that are haunting me. Obvs that's why I'm here, writing this, because I should be going to bed and I've been sitting at my computer for at least 12 hours already today. Exam meetings have all moved online. Cannot believe I have to get my own lunch, don't they know who I am?

When I haven't been at my computer, I've been plugging away at this summer linen top that I cast on at roughly this time last year, did the ribbing on and then set aside. Naturally when I picked it up, I remembered nothing. Why was I knitting the size up? Why was I using a smaller needle? Why had I seemingly not used a smaller needle on the ribbing? And so on. Of course, I did not rip back. Nobody has that much desire to do 1x1 ribbing in 4-ply linen, that they'd willingly do it twice. Its sins will be blocked out. THEY. WILL. 

I got this linen at Wonderwool last year, five skeins of Namolio 4-ply and one teeny skein of glitzy orange thread, which you can see carried along here and there. It's showing as orange in this picture, but in real life the bit that really shows up is the sparkle. I think I might be a bit past very sparkly things (it's less club, more cruise at this age, if I'm honest - no shade) but I love the odd bit of sparkle it is providing and I particularly like it against this very sack-like beige, which in turn makes the coral really pop. I knitted the ribbing and therefore neckline and armholes (will be) in the beige rather than the coral, even though I bought three coral skeins and only two beige. Another wacko decision from past Sally. What was she thinking?

Nevermind, because this is the little top that does not eat yarn, probably since it has no sleeves. It's a Tolsta tank top which a square neck. I've finished the front and am about eight stripes off finishing the back, which will go quickly as there's a decrease on every right-side row; I'm still on my first skein of coral and not very far at all into the second skein of beige. Very economical, and quite quick: I took this to Oxford with me and predictably did nothing to it until I came home, so it has only taken about three weeks to get to this point. It might actually be finished in time for the summer. 

Wonderwool 2025

It was a very sunny Wonderwool this year. I was still full of overwhelm (the mood for 2025; I read something the other day about perimenopause causing anxiety and idly wondered if that might be why but no, undoubtedly it's the colossal workload I stupidly took on so I only have myself to blame) so I was largely in retreat for much of the weekend and left at lunchtime on Sunday, but I had a good time and it's always so nice to be in Brecon Forest, even if the dawn chorus/weird intrusive dreams/unease about deadlines woke me at 5 something on Saturday morning and 4 something on Sunday morning. I managed to finish knitting the peppermint mocha cardigan and get all the ends sewn in, it just needs a blocking and a zip now. 

Onto the goodies. I tried to be as thoughtful as possible about what I was buying, but may have come home with a bit more than last year. 

Taking it from the top -

• Some neons with a UV nep from Sealy MacWheely. I couldn't resist the brights. I loved her set from a few years ago and made a favourite jumper using it, so I am looking forward to seeing what this becomes. 
• Some grey with UV nep from Mothy and Squid, along with a gradient set from the Yarn Artist. This is to make the unicorn jumper for my niece, that I bought the pattern for last year. 
• A Starry Nights set from the Yarn Artist - this is just so very definitely me. It's the new watermelon. 
• Bird yarn from Mothy and Squid in the robin colourway. This was a last minute, on my way home purchase. I want to knit a vest top out of it, I have the pattern already in mind, and also convinced myself it would go well with my recently-finished cardigan. 
• The splurge - this is a kit of 45 colours (plus the undyed for swatching) that will knit into a three-dimensional shawl. It is absolutely gorgeous and also made of cashmere. I really dithered about this one because a kit this beautiful doesn't deserve to sit in stash for many years and I'm afraid it might. But in the end, I couldn't let it escape me. The colours are too pretty and the finished scarf is glorious. 

There was also a vintage jewellery booth this year, with any number of old-lady brooches which I could have sifted through for hours, were it not for a forthright woman coming along and moving me on as I was chatting to the owner. A good indication of my overwhelm, because on a normal day I would have stood my ground, but instead I fled. I went back later for this pin on the right, though, which is a cheapy little thing but holds a flower; and then spotted this string of real, hand knotted pearls. There were actually two and I'm a bit sorry I didn't get both, but they are very long so they loop up for layering. 

I'm off to Oxford today for the final fortnight of my course. The two mini assignments are done. I've given the conference presentation I also had to be working on and launched the new policy I needed to write for work. This feels very much as though there will be a lull in workload. I am looking forward to lots of sleep and nerdy reading and wholesome activities. Interestingly, the brain is just whirring from all the effort of the past couple of months, like it is revved up and ready to go  but without a clear direction. I want to knit all the things and I've got lofty plans for some work projects. Torn between wanting to capitalise on this and wanting to just let it spin down for a bit. 

Scenes from the Classroom #44

A couple of years ago, I brought back a teaching model for Y7 that we used when I started teaching. It means that I see my Y7 class almost every day and this has made for some great relationships. Lots of kids said at parents evening this week that mine was their favourite subject and, although I appreciate the time I've got back since I loaned them to a student teacher, this week she's been off doing some lectures and I have really enjoyed having them back, especially since I started a Tudors module with them. 

Predictably, in the first lesson, we didn't get much done. I have masses of knowledge of this topic and it is a favourite of many of the class already. At lesson end, I realised we had made it through two slides and precisely none of the lesson activities. 

Me: Oh, it's time to pack up, sorry, I have talked too much.

L: We have literally just talked about the Tudors for the whole lesson.

Me: I know (grimace) sorry about that, we will get more done next lesson.

L: I loved it. Best lesson ever. Ten out of ten, would recommend. 

I now know what it feels like to be reviewed on Trip Adviser.

Lordy, it's a busy time. So busy. I am #sadface a lot and having to remind myself that this situation was my choice. I'd like to say it's going to quieten down soon but...I can't actually see when that's going to happen. That said, a quick tally suggests I only have 15 more lessons to teach in the remaining nine weeks of this school year. I did a great job with picking my timetable last year, well done me. So at least there is some ebb in my main job. 

2025 Week 11

I'm not doing such a good job of keeping up with this in 2025, but 2025 is also going to be the year of "letting myself off because, as usual, I have taken too much on". We haven't had one of those in a while. 

I have been managing to keep abreast of all the various things I have to do, which include the usual school work things (lots of marking following the second round of mocks, a big review next week and it's the ski trip in 3 weeks), planning a presentation for a conference in May, attending exam board meetings and writing the module 2 assignment for uni. It is a lot to juggle. To say I am enjoying myself would be strong. But. The nice thing is that, after many years of taking on too much, I now know enough about myself to have some strategies in place. Firstly, I've gone to ground, socially. There is work and there is home and that is pretty much it. Gym and sleeping are a priority because they both help. 

Secondly, I'm having a nightly non-negotiable hour of work between 9 and 10. I mentioned this to my upper sixth, who've got coursework due soon, and offered to hold an open Teams meeting where all just work in silence and solidarity - no cameras, no microphones, but they can ask questions in the chat. This has proved so popular I have extended it from Mon-Thu to Sun-Fri. Not Saturday because just no. I was looking forward to it coming to an end next week, when coursework is in, but it turns out - they want to carry on. Sometimes I have had to do schoolwork in the hour instead of Masters work and tonight I worked on my presentation, because I've done about 5 hours on the Masters today already; sometimes I have to pick a really low-bar work activity, like searching for article to read. But it has kept me honest. Mr Z came and confiscated my phone last week because I was watching a TikTok - this helped. 

So, life is not very interesting but it is very productive. I need to stop thinking about when my next day off will be because it is so, so far off. 

I have been picking away at the sleeve of the yoked cardigan I started knitting in January, in the lovely, squishy Lorna's Laces in Peppermint Mocha that has been in my stash for decades. Now I am a bit thinner, I can wear thicker woolies again, so exciting. I think I might have enough yarn for full sleeves but I won't know until I've done them, which is annoying. Trying to convince myself that it's better to knit the full sleeve on one side and then rip it back if needed, rather than casting off at the pattern-recommended six inches and having to come back to it, but I really hate ripping back. Still, it is the sensible thing to do. I will then icord-edge the fronts and get started on sleeve two; I think I'm going to put a zip in, instead of the two buttons, as I am not a big fan of two-button open cardigans. It's a nice pattern though.

I finished reading KJ Maitland's Rivers of Treason in record time: actually before it was due back at the library, which is astonishing. It was a very easy read and I did whip through it in Oxford, finishing it on the train home, as it provided some light relief from the academic reading. I've now got my hands on the final book of the series, A Plague of Serpents, which I'm excited to start tonight. I've been trying to get though Claire North's House of Odysseus for months but it's proving tricky to get into, so I keep picking up a gardening book I bought (because I have so much time for a new hobby), The Book of Trespass (a favourite audiobook) and Underland (a top 5 book of all time). I usually manage 1-2 pages a night before falling asleep, so everything's going to take a while. Last night I went to bed at 9pm and managed precisely no pages of any book. But it did mean I was up by 7am this morning and I got loads done. 

I have been rewatching The Good Wife, a series I adored, over the past week and a half, as well as episodes of The Apprentice (still reeling from that woman who said she didn't know how to lay a table) and Sort Your Life Out. Now I am older, I am more jealous of Diane Lockhart's fabulous wardrobe - how does she manage to have so many stunning red jackets when I can't even find one that I am satisfied with? Also a bit sad to discover that Julianna Margulies wore a wig for her character but also amazed I never spotted it the first time. Interesting that she is almost exclusively pictured in skirts but gets pulled up for wearing trousers in an episode I watched today. I think that is the first pair of trousers I have seen the character wear so far. 

Not much time has been left in all of this for the business of weight loss and getting healthy. I have been stuck for some weeks now at the weight I made it to just before Christmas. I just want to eat all the things and it is hard to spare enough energy to fuel my willpower. The gym attendance has also dropped off, though I think I have realised that's because I've been trying to transition to treadmill running from the elliptical. I hate treadmill running, it is dull and without variation. So yesterday I went and bashed out 20 minutes on the elliptical instead, and did 10 minutes + sled pushes on the treadmill today. Much easier. I keep in mind the old maxim, 'You can't out-train a bad diet' and therefore seem to have sub-consciously decided that the gym was not contributing to my weight loss; but that is just silly. I don't have a bad diet. I'm not trying to out-train it. I'm trying to complement it. Plus it's also lighter in the evenings, which is a big psychological help. So, this week I will try to hit the gym for cardio on Monday and Friday. 

2025 Week 9

I've spent the past week in my garret in Oxford, trying to do all the studying and unscramble my brain after days of lectures. It was a good and interesting week. Nice to see everyone on the course again. A bit more practical than the first week, so a bit less intense and I left with the general feeling that I could do it, rather than the feeling that I was so out-of-my-depth I was making a fool of myself, which is how I went into it. I had the result for the first module back during half term and it was OK. It was a high low pass, by which I mean it was a high score in the low pass bracket. Naturally I wanted it to be a high distinction but I really just need to set that aside. I'm working two jobs at the same time, after all, and still seem to be attempting to have some sort of life, so a pass is all that is required.

Naturally hoping I will smash the next one though, which is a much more structured piece. 

We went for a Guest Night dinner at college during the week, which included a lecture and a lot of wine included in the price. It was very grand and dripping with Oxford tradition, so it was good to get a taste of that. Here is the exact moment when I was unable to continue holding the squat in front of my coursemates.

I managed to read a whole novel during the week. It's amazing how much one can get done when there's no interesting TV to watch, no knitting and no pressing schoolwork (or rather, you are refusing to do pressing schoolwork because it's an unpaid week). It was Rivers of Treason by KJ Maitland, which is the third in the Daniel Pursglove series. I was quite surprised to find the fourth (and seemingly final) book is already out, so that's on order from the library too. I found it a bit beach read-y, hence being able to whip through it so quickly, and I was unreasonably annoyed that she kept using the word slither when she clearly meant sliver. A quick google suggested this might be falling into accepted usage now but, unlike using 'staycation' to describe any UK-based holiday, this is not an accepted usage I am agreeable to. 

Obvs I will still be reading book 4 though. The set up has been long and I can't wait to find out what happens. 

Other things of note from the past couple of weeks -

I got plenty of sleep. Early nights and no alarms in half term, early nights and consistently waking before my alarm in Oxford. I feel very rested. 

Pilates. I have been a few times now. I still think it's over-priced, but the last one I did (in half term) was with the studio owner and I thought she was better than the other instructor. Unsurprising. Perhaps I will go back, as my glutes hurt for three days. But I can probably do all that stuff at the gym, if I think about it a bit. 

Baths. I love a morning bath and my Oxford garret has a bathtub, so with a 9.30am start, I made it a habit. 

Walks. University Parks continues to be my favourite place in Oxford. the whole place is full of snowdrops at the moment, with a decent smattering of crocuses and celandine. Can't wait to go back in April and see what else has come out. There is also a small swan family back on the pond. They look so pretty that people keep stopping to take pictures, convincing the swans that they are going into their pockets for food and causing a lot of hopeful neck stretching. Hours of entertainment. 

I also managed a good muddy walk around Port Meadow, scoping out places I hope I can go swimming in May. Fingers crossed for good weather. 

Tuesday Ten

Picking up from my y13s being endeared by my old-lady-internet-enthusiasm last week - Ten Granny Internet Stories

1. Going to Avalon hostplay with R and being really bemused by these people that would travel to the house of a man who slept on a shelf, just to play a game they had to pay to play. I did have an Avalon account for about five minutes at one point. I didn't get it. 

2. Circa 1995, having a phone conversation with a man who had a dream about internet shopping malls - places that you would go to buy things from shops like Boots, and you'd have them all in one place. I thought I might be able to use my nascent HTML skills to work with him (I had essentially learned most of it from a programme called Hotdog, if memory serves). Oh this sounds hilarious now, given what internet shopping has become. Absolutely wild. Making websites used to be so simple. I think I sent him my work on a floppy disk. 

3. Reading endless stories of someone called Victor, online, in the computer lab at Hatfield where my boyfriend was at uni. They were questionable and sometimes obscene. I have looked for them again but the internet is too big now. 

4. The 100 point purity test for non-virgins. This was the nerdy version of More magazine for 90s girls. 

5. Said Hatfield boyfriend and I shared a domain at Demon. It was tinyred. So our email address (I feel there was just one, I can't remember if we had our own...I have a folder of printed emails I could look in but I just can't read those emails right now, not enough time has passed for it not to be awkward yet) ... our email address was xxxx@tinyred.demon.co.uk 

I have just bitten the bullet and looked, we did have our own email addresses. This makes me feel better. I was hoping that, even back in those days, I wasn't a person who shared an email address with their boyfriend. 

I was a person who printed out their emails, though. 

6. The notion of modem speed. The first modem I used was 2400 which was slow even by the standards of the day, when everyone was on at least 14.4k and the richest nerds had 28.8k. Then the 56.6k came out and that was the fastest of the fastest. I didn't really need speed as all I used it for was chatting to people, but I was still a bit jealous. The first I heard of wired internet was when R was going to get it in 1999 and the thought of having a connection that did not tie up the phone line, that was always on and that didn't cost half my monthly salary in phone bills was just dreamy. 

7. Related to that - computers that were simple enough that even I could take them apart and fix them. Somewhere on my old blog is the story of when I had a problem getting online that I thought was being caused by the modem. All my nerd friends said it was not. R wanted to reinstall Windows for me. This sounded drastic and horrible so I just unscrewed my machine, pulled out the modem and put in the old one I (for some reason) just had lying around the house. It solved the problem. 

Now I don't even know if I have a modem. There's a huge thing that looks like an upside down tarantula with a purple belly and a wire goes to my machine. If Mr Z ever dies suddenly, I am going to be in trouble. 

8. Ah yes - the old blog. The OG. Written in Notepad and later some similar programme called something like Notepad Plus; all the html tags included to make the background and writing different shades of purple and keep the paragraphing in place and make the font big when I was shouting. Painstakingly uploaded via....I can't even remember what it was I used to upload it. FTP? Then noticing mistakes and having to edit and reupload. Endless words and the very occasional scanned picture that you had to click through to view, I am unsure why I wasn't putting pictures in in-line to start with. Perhaps I didn't know how. 

Now I've had the blog on Blogger since 2007 and I don't know what I would do if Blogger went away. My blog has been around for more than half my life. I'd probably manage, but would I keep putting it up online? I think doing all the writing on it for decades has taught me a lot about my writing style and how I like to communicate. I don't much care for the way I wrote in the early days now but that was a product of the fact I spent hours chatting on BBSs and then ICQ, there were no emojis and the idea of communicating by gif....well. What was a gif?

Blogs are now old media. But when I started, they weren't even really a thing. How have I been alive for this long? 

9. My first experience with Amazon, in the summer of 2000. I wanted to buy a couple of CDs - Coldplay's Parachutes and the Magnolia soundtrack - to take with me when I moved to Vegas. It seemed very futuristic that I would place an order online and then the CDs just arrived in the post. It turns out I has a bit late to the Amazon party as it had already been around for a year or two by then. This might be the same for internet banking - I always thought I must have been one of the first people to get online banking from Natwest, because I pushed really hard for it so I could check my bank balance when I moved to the US, and my user name was [mybirthday]0016 - I always wondered whether I was the 16th user, or the 16th user with my birthday. Probably the latter. 

(This just made me go and look at these statistics which are really interesting! So probably 1500-2000 people in Britain with the same birthday as me.)

10. This is the oldest I have ever been now - I just really miss that the internet used to be about connecting with people. Tapping away on a bulletin board, playing trivia and tetrinet against people, ICQ, MSN Messenger, Trillian, blogs - writing, reading and commenting, long chatty emails, email exchanges across half a dozen people like a groupchat, forums, even early Facebook. All about talking to real people, for the purpose of talking to other people. I think social media has killed that - or rather, the monetisation of it has; the algorithms that push the negative comments higher, the financial gain that comes from going viral and all that creates. It was quite golden before all that came along. I was a pretty shy person with a tight circle of friends and little confidence to go out and make new ones, and the internet was a game-changer for me - for no other reason than I used it. I didn't even have to try. 

Normally I don't go in much for sad-eyes nostalgia, the past is just that; but now I have reached my great age, I find that I can feel a sense of loss for something that evolved in my lifetime and has evolved right out of existence again, before my very eyes. Boo. 

Not that I've got time for it anymore though, I suppose. 

That seemed to get to 10 quite quickly, and I haven't even mentioned Napster, early experiments with email (involved something called nodes but I can't remember much more than that), how we searched before Google and browsed before Internet Explorer and posted videos before YouTube, the first MP3 player...I wonder if I can think of enough for another 10. Maybe looking through those printed out emails would give me some inspiration, but I'm not sure I can do it.