My little netbook

I bought my Asus EeePC 1008HA netbook for £200 at the start of this year, with my share of the winnings from the Guardian Student Media Awards,thankyouverymuch. It came with Windows XP pre-installed. It was strange buying such a new computer with such an out-dated operating system installed. But that said, it’s common knowledge how prevalent XP remains. It’s cheap to run, and performs as ably as most homes and businesses require. The cost of upgrading even just one machine to Windows 7 is off-putting enough for most, and the trend remains that people only tend to upgrade their OS when they upgrade their hardware by buying a new machine with the new software as standard.

With this in mind, I’ve been more than happy with XP on my little netbook. Given how old an OS it is, it’s very snappy on this modern, stripped-down hardware, and thanks to software and plugin compatability, has kept up to speed with all the latest and greatest software via the Web.

Flirting with Linux

I’ve flirted a couple of times with Jolicloud – an Ubuntu-based OS with an HTML5 front-end. It’s an admirable project, and for a geek, it’s fun to play around with to see how operating systems can be done differently. It’s also easy to install alongside Windows, without the pain of partitioning or the like. As such, I have spent many weeks dual-booting it and mucking around in it – but I never got beyond enjoying the novelty of it.

As soon as I just approached it as the default OS and tried to do my usual tasks, I found it hiccupped. It was either the interface that needed to be refreshed, or its sluggish performance when it came to flash video (not Jolicloud’s fault, apparently) which ultimately meant it couldn’t be fully relied upon to use as my primary OS.

After two several-week-long sessions trying Jolicloud out, once as its beta version -based on Ubuntu Netbook Remix – and once as the v1.0, HTML5-based version, I reluctantly gave up and uninstalled it. Jolicloud can be commended once again here – uninstalling is as easy as any other Windows program.

The Windows 7 question

I’d been vaguely aware of netbooks coming with Windows 7, and was interested to see how it performed on my own model. Many reviews and YouTube videos were looked at, and the consensus seemed to be that both battery life and performance were comparable with XP – so no real benefits to be had from upgrading.

Still, there was something vaguely alluring about Windows 7 – it was the newest version of Windows, and had received a much better reception than its predecessor Vista. It had many features – visual or buried deep in the code – that Apple nerds liked to claim were stolen from OS X.

But at this stage, the idea of stealing ideas kind of blurs into insignificance. Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but in tech and software development, new trends need to be taken on board to ensure innovation and a sense of keeping up with the Joneses.

With this in mind, I wanted to see for myself just what the fuss was all about. I missed out on the period when Windows 7′s beta was offered up for free, mostly as I’d rather wait and play with the proper final release candidate. For a long time I just decided I didn’t need Windows 7, and that XP was doing my netbook life justice enough.

But one nagging thought at the back of my mind was that – as a student in a field that relies so heavily on knowledge of software and hardware, from the retro relics to the absolute bleeding edge -my lack of a current working knowledge of Windows 7 was potentially a rather serious problem.

More than once in recent months, a couple of people have asked for some help with their computers, seeing me as some sort of daylight-fearing, basement-dwelling super-nerd who “just knows about that sort of thing.” Worryingly enough, while that may be largely true, when it came to the question at hand, if it was a Windows 7-specific question, I simply had to raise my hands and admit I hadn’t once touched it. True, there’s a lot of crossover between old Windows terms and technologies, but without a working knowledge of Windows 7, I would be unable to assist.

And as a super-nerd studying a library/information degree, my desire to assist others in such fields is impulsive and in-built to the extent that I feel quite bad if I can’t help.

It was inevitable

So it was inevitable that I would one day grab Windows 7 and give it a go. But until recently I hadn’t considered actually buying the thing, and the idea of pirating a piece of software so fundamental to the running of a computer was unthinkable, at least for me.

I saw a link being passed around on Twitter the other day, offering money-saving tips for students starting university this September. I initially dismissed it, thinking I was some sort of savvy, veteran of student life with an entire room full of gold that I dive into daily, like a scruffier, bearded version of Scrooge McDuck.

When I remembered the unfortunate truth, I decided to at least glance over the Guardian article for any new tips. It contained mostly stuff that should either be common knowledge (Deposit Protection; shopping around) or disregarded (NUS Extra), but it also mentioned that Windows 7 is available to students for just £30. A bargain, right enough, and because we live in bizarre-o world, cheaper than the student discount version of the MS Office suite.

So I decided to investigate a little further…

Broderick has released a fair amount of music over the past few years, bridging the gap between classical piano and ambient electronica via rootsy folk.

I fell in love with his 2008 sister albums Home and Float, which both feature music from different ends of his repertoire, but which compliment each other beautifully.

His new mini album How They Are is out in September on Bella Union in Europe and Hush in the US. I was very lucky to be given an advance copy in July when I was in Denmark, but for some reason I forgot I had it – until yesterday that is, when I listened to one of Tom Ravenscroft’s recent shows for 6music. He played the album’s closing track, Hello To Nils. I thought it was a very sweet song, plaintively reflecting on the sad fact of saying goodbye more often than saying hello. I even thought to myself, “this sounds a bit like Peter Broderick, I must see who it’s by.” Well, I’m glad I did.

How They Are is a small but perfectly formed set of songs which sees Broderick stripping his songwriting back to its roots, with sparsely recorded piano and voice with a dash of guitar. Opening track Sideline starts off exclusively vocal, before being joined by a simple piano line. The mini album was recorded and mixed in Oregon all in one day in April this year. The production has lent it a very intimate feel, and it’s a joy that Broderick’s soft, beautiful voice is given such room to breathe alongside his remarkable piano playing.

As I mentioned earlier, he barely seems to sleep, let alone take breaks, and Sideline is accompanied by a rather special video made by Broderick on his travels. At first glance it’s a neat, lo-fi stop-motion animation – but as he explains:

It consists 3446 still photos taken in the program Photo Booth. I started to take some photos and scroll through them to create a sort of animation, and then I got the idea to take enough photos to match the length of this song. In the end I could scroll through the photos on slide show mode, and one rotation through all the photos matched the length of the song. And I filmed my computer screen while doing this. Basically a very tedious way to make some cheap looking animation! I worked on it over several months, shooting small scenes in the many different places I’ve stayed.

It’s a lovely video, matching the track’s intimate, sparse and solitary feel:

To promote the release, Broderick will be playing dates in England, Ireland and some of Europe in October. Dates can be found on his website. I’m thrilled that he’ll be calling at Manchester on the way –  I saw him 18 months ago at Manchester Academy 3, and reviewed it for PULP magazine. I’m very much looking forward to seeing him again.

But I’m also being excited by other sources. The BBC is increasingly a great source of fascinating information via its many and varied blogs. There are several which accompany its flagship programmes and series, and others with more in-depth looks at topics in the news.

But my favourites are those concerning its use of archives, the Internet, and web standards. The BBC Internet Blog and BBC Research & Development Blog, amongst others, have recently been very helpfully showing people how they do things and, crucially, why they do them in a certain way.

A recent post on the Internet Blog starts out with some interesting stuff about the BBC’s Content Management/Publishing System (including a screenshot!), before getting pretty complex in its discussion of best practices and semantic structuring of HTML, as well as a look at the BBC’s choices in structuring of URLs. Obviously, I was rapt.

And the Internet Blog has a great post today on Safeguarding The BBC’s Archive, which opens with a cool photo of archivists holding some of the different formats they have to deal with, before going into a breakdown of some of the very niche formats the BBC has dabbled with over time.  The links at the bottom of the post lead to a Guardian podcast of a recent visit to the Windmill Road archive, and there was a link to a great post from 2005 by Martin ‘currybet’ Bellam after a visit to the archive.

There’s also a post from the R&D blog today entitled Intimations of the Archive, in which engineer Richard Wright waxes poetic about the BBC Archive:

The archive is enchanted: Sleeping Beauty awakes, a hundred years disappear.  In the archive, experiencing the archive, we are enchanted; timeless.

And there’s another post from the About The BBC blog which ties some of this stuff together with the recently-begun series on 20th Century British writers like Virginia Woolf and D.H. Lawrence, In Their Own Words.

In his blog post, Roly Keating, Director of Archive Content, makes a point I’ve been considering myself for some time. In it, he writes of archived items:

Some are historically significant, and we want to curate them and make them available. Others may matter only to one person or one family, but they should still be discoverable.

Last week, I was having a conversation with David Davidson, an architectural advisor at Hampstead Garden Suburb Trust, where I recently had my four week summer placement. As I had been drafted in to assist with the Trust’s not-insignificant archive of tens of thousands of documents, this was a very relevant topic. The Trust’s archive holds some unique, important documents which need to be kept forever, along with copies of correspondance and architectural drawings, sometimes in triplicate, that could arguably be called less important.

When I’m explaining my interests and passions and how they link to my current degree and career choice, I am often sheepish in describing my archivist tendencies as a form of hoarding. When I explain that it’s my preference to keep everything, just in case someone needs access to it, this is often the cause of some debate. There’s obviously a compromise to be made somewhere, between the practicality of physical storage and the necessary retention of information.

But it’s pleasing to know that senior archivists at some of the world’s most important archives have the same attitude. It’s just another subtle indication to me that I’m doing the right thing after all.

Thanks to those bloggers who take time out to write engaging, detailed breakdowns of the essential work they do ‘behind the scenes’. Joe Bloggs (no pun intended) might not find it all that interesting or relevant, but to someone like me, it’s fascinating and reassuring.

What a bastard.

And he’s done it again. Check out this wonderful clip of Die! Die! Die! touring New Zealand recently in support of their brand-new album, Form, out now on Flying Nun Records. He’s cut some beautifully-shot clips together, taken from various venues up and down the country, and set it all to one of the most thrilling tracks from the album, Wasted Lands.

Whilst I’m at it, I must say I feel bad for not having given Form a more detailed write-up until now. I’m a huge Die! Die! Die! fanboy and have been for years. And whilst I’ve loved almost everything they’ve ever recorded, this new album just blew me away in terms of the production, the overall vibe, how full the sound is, and how well it works as an album.

There still remains the trebley guitars, relentless rhythm section and desperate, shouted vocals – but Form adds so much more to the mix. Deeply layered guitars and a much smoother mix are added to arguably better songwriting and structure and a palpable sense of pace. It just sounds so much bigger than anything they’ve done before. And it isn’t immediately as jarring as some of their earlier work could be described – yet it still maintains the razor sharp edge that so permeates their live shows.

And hopefully as videos such as that above will show, Die! Die! Die!’s live show is second to absolutely none. I genuinely think they are the best, most exciting live act of their type on the planet right now. When they tour near you – and they will, they’re relentless buggers – go and see them.

Until then though, get Form. It’s only officially out in New Zealand so far, but you can still order yourself a copy from the newly-launched Flying Nun Records website. You can order a CD or vinyl – or simply get the MP3s for only NZ$10! That’s less than a fiver in sterling!

I was interested to read, in last Friday’s Guardian, a question from a reader concerning what to do with their diaries. The question was as follows:

I’ve been keeping a journal since I was 18 and I’m now 65. I have more than 80 in a trunk. I don’t want my children embarrassed by them when I die but I can’t bring myself, yet, to burn them; they are still part of me. Might my grandchildren, with a bit more distance, be interested? Or is there some way I could turn them into something creative? I’m thinking art, not a book.

I was initially confused to read how quickly the person would consider burning them – why, after all, would you bother to write and store something, if destroying it wouldn’t be unthinkable? Of course, the writing of diaries isn’t purely about keeping them for the future; the sheer act of setting something down, like talking it out with someone who will listen, is useful in itself.

But where does that leave the mounting archive of diaries? I understand – to a degree – the idea of potential embarrassment if your children got hold of them. Diaries can be confessional, intimate, and often never intended to be read by others. Perhaps they include direct, negative references to those who could end up reading them. More likely, they just reveal facets of our personality we inevitably keep covered up. It’s not lying or deceitful to do such a thing – it’s a part of life.

A quote is apt here, from Otto Frank – father of Anne:

“After I read Anne’s diary, I couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t the Anne that I knew. Then I thought, ‘Do we ever really know our children?’”

I would paraphrase the quote by asking, “do we ever really know anyone?” Inevitably, diaries are going to highlight things we didn’t know or expect about their author. But surely that’s what’s so compelling about them?

Anyway, it’s a tricky question with a thousand possible answers and attitudes. The responses to the above question are interesting – the paper itself published the best of these, along with emailed and written responses, but the comments under the question give a broad overview.

As a hoarder, a history nerd, a diary-reader and writer and an aspiring librarian and archivist, I like the general vibe from the suggestions that the diaries (and hence all diaries) are important, relevant, and have a home somewhere, whether in the hands of family or an institution which can look after them.

1. I was relatively busy and involved with All FM, the wonderful station in Manchester that teaches people like me how to work at a community station, even going so far as to allow them on air to play their favourite records.
2. I got a bit obsessed with the history of British radio, in particular the wonderful pluck and spirit of those pioneers of pirate radio which led to the likes of Radio 1 and commercial radio (and so far beyond).
3. Uni had all but wrapped up for the year, meaning that I had far too much spare time on my hands.

When browsing some of the admittedly extensive websites which detail the histories (whether true or half-remembered) of the early pirate stations, I got a bit caught up in the aesthetic of the period. Stations like Radio London, Radio Luxembourg and Radio Caroline all caught my imagination, and all had their share of intriguing stories, pioneering spirit, DJs who went on to bigger things – and most of all, they had avid listeners. My mother told me she remembers going to a park with some friends and a wireless to hear the final broadcast from Radio London in 1967. Things like that stay with the people who cared, and it gave me shivers to think about the significance of such an occasion.

The visual look of radio stations is something that I’ve often had trouble with. It’s purely an audio medium, and yet it necessarily has to have some visual representation – more so now, due to the Web. And all the various stations had logos and typefaces associated with them, just as they do now. Whilst browsing a particularly extensive website (albeit one with a rather outdated design and layout), The Pirate Radio Hall Of Fame (http://www.offshoreradio.co.uk/), I stumbled on some of the schedule cards for various stations. Simple little cards, detailing the weekly schedule for a given station, and often with just generic designs and typefaces used. But for whatever reason, the Radio Caroline schedule card shown on the website stuck in my mind. Click here and scroll down to see it – it’s the third image from the top.

And so I got thinking: wouldn’t it be fun to try and create a mock-up schedule card for All FM in the style of the Radio Caroline one? So I did. And here’s what I came up with:

All FM schedule card (click to view larger)

It’s incomplete as I didn’t have a current schedule to hand – and it changes now and again so I thought I’d leave it until the next concrete change. But essentially what I did was import the original Radio Caroline card into Photoshop, set it as a background layer, and started drawing on top of it, trying to find suitably similar fonts and line styles. I’ve also tried, as much as I could, to replicate not just the colour, but the texture of the card/paper of the original. Pointless really, but a fun exercise. Also, I simply had to keep the rather quaint text of ‘your all-day music station’ and ‘your friendly station’.

Anyway, the result is what you see above. Flipping back and forth between the original image and the above has a pleasing effect, at least for me, as the similarities are about as close as damnit.

If I ever get around to finishing it, or doing another different design, I’ll let you know.

It’s Saturday, so that must mean I’ve had the first week of my summer placement at Hampstead Garden Suburb Trust already. And it’s flown by! Things usually do when your brain is actively busy trying to take everything in, whether it’s specific legal jargon, office procedures, or simply getting used to commuting halfway into London every morning. The commute, incidentally, has been mostly painless. I’m lucky to have the Metropolitan Line station at Amersham, and when it is fully functional, it’s a pretty good service. It could be better, but it’s only when you use it daily that you realise that it is pretty reliable most of the time. It’s those people who travel rarely, and get stung when their one journey in a month is hit by delays or whatnot. The industrial action on Wednesday was a pain, admittedly, but it only added about 15 minutes onto my journey so I won’t grumble.

I get 40 minutes on the train to check up on overnight news, tweets and emails, or flick through a paper, then I jump on a bus which is still a novelty and I’m mostly happy gazing around at the unfamiliar surroundings and my fellow travellers. Finchley Road/Golders Green is a very colourful area at 0830 in the morning. I see businessmen and women, Jews in various styles of dress, families, students queuing to learn English, Argentinian kids on a school trip and old ladies off out to the shops. By the time I arrive at the office, I’ve ingested just about enough sights, sounds, information and music that I need to wake me up properly. I go into the office, get myself a coffee and I’m ready to begin.

All this week, I’ve been greeted with smiles and kindness by the people who work there, whether I work directly with them or not. They’ve all given me the time and information I need, while at other times leaving – and trusting – me to get on with things I can happily do alone. Other times I’ve just enjoyed the office banter. It’s a calm, friendly place, and yet they are constantly busy. Files all over the place, phones ringing almost constantly, and frequent callers at the door and site visits. And I’ve been lucky to get involved with some really interesting projects – from simple tasks like archiving files that have gotten too large for the filing system, to using my knowledge of software and web technologies to come up with solutions to problems with storing and visualising data.

The former has allowed me to leaf through documents nearly 100 years old, reading the correspondence of the residents of houses in the Suburb through the past. Obviously, much of it is legal jargon and standard stuff, but occasionally gems of banter or gossip slip in, bringing it to life. And the latter has involved sorting through masses of digital photographs and brainstorming solutions for their storage and utility. Finally, yesterday I was working with all of the above, finding a way to plot a database of addresses onto a Google Map. Tricky, when you’ve got more than 4,000 records… (Pro-tip: MapAList.com is amazingly useful – thanks Brian Sobel!)

Suffice it to say, I’ve been made to feel welcome, kept busy, and kept interested. And I’m thrilled to be there for another three weeks.

On Thursday after work, I met up with Sara, a friend I haven’t seen for far too long. It was fantastic to see her, and to have a couple of hours to catch up – we had lots to talk about, and it kinda felt like old times which was lovely. We then went to see Inception at the Everyman cinema on Baker Street. I won’t go on about the film as I barely feel qualified to even write a short blurb, but I was blown away. By the action and visuals first, but also by the accomplished complexities of the script and the strength of the performances. There’s some incredibly advanced stuff in there about how dreams work, far more intelligent than your average summer blockbuster, but it also packs in the stunning set-piece action sequences Chris Nolan has become known for since The Dark Knight.

The cinema itself was very nice – small and cosy, much like the two smaller screens of Manchester’s wonderful Cornerhouse. Very comfortable seats and a stylish, if expensive bar. The screen was perhaps a bit small for seeing such an eye-popping extravaganza – especially knowing it was pretty much made for IMAX – but I love a small, intimate movie theatre, and I was able to concentrate on the story. There were a couple of issues which detracted from our enjoyment – the sound could have been better (although again, this is only knowing how much richer the sound is at much larger cinemas), and for some reason the lights subtly faded up a couple of times while the film was showing. A Nolan-esque piece of misdirection? Alas, just an accidental button-press in the projector room! But it was a nice experience otherwise, and I look forward to catching it at an IMAX sometime soon – as much to see it again as for the visual difference.

I got home very late after that – the film is rather long, and getting home from Baker Street tends to take around 90 minutes at the best of times. But luckily I felt really good on Friday, and rounded off a good week at the Trust. That said, I slept like a baby last night, after a very much needed home-cooked lamb hotpot and a beer. Being home for the summer is working out very nicely so far.

And, to bring this entry up to date, I’m just back from a fruitful trip into Amersham. I picked up a few snacks and supplies, but also stopped into a couple of the charity shops, and bought three books for less than a fiver – Nick Hornby’s A Long Way Down; Schott’s Food and Drink Miscellany; and Stephen Fry’s autobiography Moab is My Washpot. The latter was a real lucky find – last night I watched a very enjoyable interview with Stephen Fry which amongst other things reminded me that I’ve not read his autobiography – and that the next installment is published in September. I say it was an interview – rather, it was edited so that it was just Fry rambling for 30 minutes, which is an utter joy, obviously. Watch it here, if you like. (Hat-tip to John for bringing it to my attention.)

Now I think I’ll spend the rest of my weekend relaxing, and uploading more of my photographs from my recent trip. You can see the images posted so far here. I’ve not done a proper write-up yet, but I’m trying to do a good job of captioning the images on Flickr. And, thanks to recent updates to Flickr’s interface, you can now page through images with the keyboard to make it a smoother process.

Wind turbines in the Great Belt, Denmark, originally uploaded by paulcapewell.

Well, I’m back from a marvellous trip to Denmark. I have lots of photographs and stories, but this weekend I am hitting the ground running somewhat, with some loose ends to tie up and four weeks of work placement in London to prepare for. I’m as excited as I am nervous!

University

First of all, I’ve totally finished first year. The observant amongst you will know that this was actually my second year at university, but the ‘first year’ of my degree. I like to take my time.

I heard last week that I had passed first year and will progress onto second year – that much I was fairly sure of. But it was nice to get my transcript through so that I could see the individual grades for the different units I took. And they were satisfying, inasmuch as they reflect the effort I put into each one. I could give 1,000-word breakdowns of each of the six units, listing my favourite and least favourite elements, what I learnt (academically or otherwise) and other such fluff. But that’s the stuff for me to go away and digest.

The positive angle is that when I work alone and put my mind to it, I produce some really good work. Work that I know is good as I near the end of it, and work which gets grades I feel proud of. The constructive criticism stems from the massive holes left by my approach to group work. I have a lot of work to do in this department (literally and metaphorically). And it’s not that I can’t do the work – my solo stuff is very good – it’s that I haven’t yet adjusted to tackling group work properly. I hope and aim to get on top of that in my second year. It’s an essential part of university, and I hope that I will feel more comfortable with it next year.

It’s been a good first year, with units I’ve enjoyed and units I’ve hated; people I’ve made good friends with and people still to meet. I’ve had inspiring lectures that have left me bristling with ideas and ambition, and I’ve had those which have been hard to justify leaving the house for. The latter have been a tiny minority, I’m pleased to report.

I’m very optimistic for next year, especially if I get to study the two elective units I’ve chosen.

Summer placement

Through the purest definition of ‘social networking’ that I’ve come across to date, I’ve somehow landed myself a very cool summer work experience placement. I say I’ve landed it – it’s more fallen in my lap. A friend with a mutual love of photography, architecture and general geekery works at a trust in NW London that looks after a special section of Hampstead, with particular attention paid to its buildings and preservation. She’s been shrewd and seen my interest in the above, along with library-related stuff, and very kindly helped arrange for me to spend four weeks there this summer.

They’re called Hampstead Garden Suburb Trust, and they are responsible for some 5,000 houses and associated gardens and common land, for its upkeep and preservation, and to raise the public’s awareness of it. My role, although hazy at the moment, will involve getting my hands dirty sorting out whole rooms full of 80-year-old archives and deeds; assisting the Trust in raising its profile via online promotion (amongst other things); assisting with updating their website; and probably making the tea and coffee now and then!

I’m very excited about my four weeks at the HGS Trust. It’s in a beautiful part of the world, and one I have yet to explore. It’s accessible by Tube, which also means I will be in London a fair bit more this summer than last summer, which hopefully in turn means seeing more of my London friends than usual. The office is lovely, and filled with some very smart, fun people. And on top of that, it’s fantastic experience for me, and very relevant to my degree. The fact that I’ve not even really had to try for this just makes it all the sweeter – it’s just been a wonderful slice of serendipity that I’m very grateful for.

I’ll let you know how I get on.

Denmark

Wrapping up this summer is my trip to Copenhagen. As I’ve briefly alluded to, last summer wasn’t so much a damp squib as a dried-up riverbed of a time mostly spent by me languishing around thinking about how horrible my financial situation was. Thankfully, this year I’ve been a little bit smarter with my student loan, meaning I have no such concerns this summer, and am able to enjoy a holiday that’s been over 12 months in the planning.

Next Friday I’ll be jumping on a Eurostar to Brussels, quickly changing for a train to Cologne, and then onto a night train bound for Copenhagen. From there I’ll meet with my good friend Troels who is kindly putting me up – and putting up with me – for five days of musical voyages, photowalks, merriment and exploring. Our itinerary is scarce so far, but that suits us both – a few milestones to prop up the week, with space to breathe in-between. I’ll be returning by the same route, although with 12 hours to have a nose around Cologne, which is nice as I’ve not visited Germany before.

I’m very fond of Copenhagen, having visited a few years ago, albeit in winter, and having, via Troels, immersed myself in Danish music and films. I’ve recently been listening to Marvins Revolt, The Rising and Marybell Katastrophy, along with regulars like The Raveonettes and Trentemøller. We should be seeing Marybell Katastrophy when I’m there too. Troels knows his music, and through some great fortune, we share a lot of similar tastes, so he’s constantly guiding me through the musical murk and showing me things I would never have discovered otherwise. I try to reciprocate this with healthy doses of my rather unhealthy obsession with alternative music from New Zealand.

Music aside, I’ve been enjoying – although I’m not sure that’s the correct word – several of the Dogme 95 films. I’ve so far seen Festen/The Celebration and Idiotern/The Idiots, both of which left me feeling a little disturbed and cold, but also blown away by their apparent realism, and by some of the issues they deal with. I’ve got Italiensk for bergyndere/Italian For Beginners lined up next, which I’m looking forward to rather more, given that the director, Lone Scherfig, has made two other films I’ve absolutely loved – namely Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself and An Education.

So, forgive the longwinded entry, but that’s pretty much what I’ve been up to the past week or two, and what I’ll be up to for the next couple of months! And I haven’t even mentioned Manchester once have I? I do miss the city though, of course I do. I look forward to my return in September very much. But first I’ve got an exciting summer to attend to…

Woke at about ten feeling hungry, thirsty, tired, and with a fairly sore head. Johnny had left for work(!), so I hugged Nicola and Laurie goodbye, and Glen drove Ed and I to the station via Tesco. I was feeling decidedly dodgy at this stage, and after the pit stop at Tesco to stock up on train snacks, I felt sure I was going to be sick. Fortunately, when pushed for time and kept busy, I forgot these urges.

We got to the station at gone 11am for our 1106 train to find that, luckily, it had been cancelled as, due to the floods, it hadn’t made it up to Dundee the day before(!). Our plan B was the 1130 to Edinburgh, then direct to London. We thought we had an hour to wait at Edinburgh, but we managed to jump on the late-running 1230 to King’s Cross.

The train was packed so we spent half the journey sat on our bags, but it was a pretty uneventful journey and, by the end of it, we both felt almost human again.

South of York, we could see some of the lasting effects of the flooding earlier in the week. It still looks shocking and dramatic now, so goodness knows what it will have been like a few days ago. Nuts.

It’s lovely to spend hours listening to my iPod again…