Back to the Bubble!

Campus is called "the Bubble" for a reason - it's a claustrophobic, self-contained and artificial place. I got very fed up with it in third year - after living in Venice, where there was something new to discover every day (mostly by getting lost), the Bubble seemed undeniably dull. Even the hordes of baby ducklings and bunnies couldn't make up for it. Frequent escape missions to Leamington were my method of survival.

I was probably at my most insane ever (and that's saying something) when I spent the entire Easter break on campus to write my dissertation, and I (and the bunnies and ducklings) were pretty much the only living beings there. If I remember correctly I made some cake and posted it to my sister in Scotland, this is how bored I was. And I remember going for a walk on campus at dusk and there being a couple of first-years in the piazza. For a split-second I thought "Wow, other human beings", then I realised that they were racing each other across the square, using their desk chairs as vehicles. Clearly as mad as I was.

Seven months later though I'd just about gotten over my antipathy and dared to return! Go me. Believe it or not I realised I'd missed campus and student life. Especially during the first fifteen minutes I spent on campus - then the novelty wore off! But I'm a bit of a nomad and sometimes I'm not even sure what my home country is - thank god my passport decides for me - so seeing campus felt a little bit like coming home. And considering how static life in the Bubble felt sometimes I was surprised to notice a few changes whilst running around to see my few remaining campus-bound friends. Much fun was had catching up and reminiscing... It seemed the majority of people I saw couldn't wait to finish (especially because of the workload, which in January of your final year is bound to seem crushing), but were aware they were going to miss the social life and the student lifestyle. I think I was scared of the same things; I remember being preoccupied with a dire future ruled by bills and a mortgage, probably because I had no idea what I was going to do and where, and bills and mortgages were the only things I could envisage. I'm glad I have slightly more concrete future plans, at least for the next year! My student days are definitely over and although I miss certain aspects I think this is the place to be in life, when the best is yet to come.

Polar Wanker

I haven't had the best time at work since I got back - understatement of the year - but luckily I have a very special author to keep me amused. I've fondly nicknamed him "Polar Wanker" because he's quite high-maintenance. He likes to call me once or twice a week to discuss his book. Other people have discovered email, but not Polar Wanker. He likes a good chinwag.
Well, actually he just shouts at me (but it's kind of in my job description to be abused on a daily basis so it's ok). And I shout back (which is definitely not in my job description). One of the things he wanted to make me do was change all instances of the word 'Polar' in his book to lower-case 'polar's. There were a lot, so I told him to do it himself. He didn't like that.

It's probably a good thing I won't be around long enough to get an Author Feedback form from him. But things are getting better; we've managed to have a couple of conversations without shouting now, and he's realised that emails aren't so bad actually. These emails have caused me a lot of mirth. Not the messages themselves so much, as they mostly go along the lines of "Where are my proofs? Why haven't we published yet? Who got my affiliation on the cover wrong? It's 'Dark Lord of Polar Biology, Random University in Wales'. Get it right, you piece of shit."

But he has a really funny signature block at the bottom of his emails, and it has confirmed everything I ever suspected about him but also revealed his softer side. Firstly, there's a link to his staff page at his University, which has a wicked picture of his chubby happy little bearded self against an Antarctic backdrop - from which I learned that although he looks merry it confirms that bearded men are not to be trusted. He also lists all his research grant money, which is super-interesting. I calculated he got £1,109,810 (I'll just say that again: £1,109,810) between 1997 and 2009. Then I noticed he listed some of the amounts in Euros and couldn't be bothered working out the correct amount.

The best bit of his email signature is this though:
"For an example of how sad my life has become see:
http://www.dtimages.co.uk/ and/or http://www.seaweedpostcards.co.uk/
And for a completely different view of plankton take a look at:
http://www.louiseandsarah.com"
I'm so glad he agrees it's sad to love seaweed and plankton. I'm now thinking of striking up a sarcastic conversation about plankton next time he calls; that might melt the ice...(no pun intended).

N.B. one perk of working on his book are the images, which are sometimes a bit like this and make me smile:

Some Unfounded Accusations (which may result in legal action against me)

I have to say I feel a bit bad posting a photo of a total stranger here - not because I'm such a tender, caring person but because he a) definitely has an internet connection and could, by some horrible coincidence, see this one day and b) looks like he might like to find out where I live and burn down my house if he sees this.


THIS FACE has put me off internet dating. Before I saw THIS FACE I thought internet dating was pretty shite, and now I'd rather stick my head in a bucket of eels than sign up. The reason I saw THIS FACE is because a friend sent me a dating application on facebook and I thought, what the hell, it's the Christmas holidays, I'm very much single, and a bit bored, so I'll have a peek.

Bad idea - this is one of the better looking candidates it spat out at me. And yeah, looks aren't everything, but this scares the shit out of me. Putting my three years of university-level picture-analysis skills to use I would say this was either taken in the guy's bathroom in front of his steamed up mirror or in his dad's garage in a gentle haze of exhaust fumes. His hair and dodgy stubble demonstrate serious neglect on the personal hygiene/grooming front. The facial expression was probably meant to be a bit sultry but actually makes you want to run screaming from the room. The cropping is close and probably hides a multitude of sins such as bad dress sense and porkiness. I'm not even sure he has a right eye! Using this guide I think he fits into the "Dark, brooding" category, hence The Truth is that he's "Dangerous, possibly a pirate", which is supported by the fact that he is half blind and has a secret pirate eye patch hidden in that drawer where he also keeps his machete, chain saw, someone's amputated foot, and a picture of his mum.

I rest my case.