Tiredness and not eating cheese before bed

Fun, Life

Recently I’m constantly tired. I have reasoned that as a way of dealing with the fact that I have basically nothing to do (and by basically nothing I mean, I only have my job, my degree and a nice life with Boyfriend, plus occasional visitors…so nothing) I am filling my life with many additional things, such as loads of baking, cross-stitch, and crazy amounts of cleaning. All this is making me tired. All the time.

Which leads me on to cheese before bed. I don’t eat cheese before bed, which they say gives you nightmares, but I wonder if maybe I should. Because this was my non-cheese-induced dream last night. My parents had moved house, into a ridiculous tree-house. My cousins were visiting and wanted me to build a snowman…

(Frozen break)

And then I needed a carrot for the nose, so I went to another room but I broke a ladder. This made my grandfather very angry, and once he’d fixed the ladder he made me come to the top level of the mental treehouse, so he could teach me military typing (what!?). Also, while being taught military typing, I had to wear a typing jacket made of sugared almonds.

So, in summation, I should probably eat cheese before bed, and have regular nightmares like a regular person.

Getting into the Habit

Life

So I don’t think I’ve mentioned my love of computer games. I’ve never had the best hand-eye coordination and about a year and a half ago I began playing Skyrim quite seriously on Boyfriend’s Xbox, partially as a way to pass the time because he was revising and writing up his masters, and partially to improve said hand-eye coordination.

From the second I picked up the controller I was hooked, and very specifically hooked on Skyrim. I’ve now almost finished it (yes, the whole thing) which is sad, but it still entertains me whenever I play, something which Boyfriend is in awe of. The thing I like about it though is that you pick aims and goals, many of which require only small amounts of effort (mining iron, for example) and then through time committed and clever play, you achieve them. And while you achieve them you increase your skill level, which is where the main bit of this post comes in.

A few months ago Boyfriend stumbled across Habit RPG, which is a way to gamify your life. Him being him, his character hasn’t exactly been kept up, but I’ve fallen in love with it. You set yourself tasks, arranged into one-off to-dos, dailies, and habits, and then as you complete them you gain XP, and sometimes acquire special pets and items. It’s prettymuch awesome.

habit
(click to enlarge)

So if you were wondering why I’ve been blogging so much more frequently now, this is why. As long as I keep getting cool little pixelated pets and awesome robes just for doing stuff which is good for me, I’m in.

A quick rant

Rant

I know I said I’d try and reduce this, but it hasn’t happened.

Quick rant.

If you are creating a survey and you’ve got a question with a wide range of possible answers, please don’t just guess which the most popular ones will be and have them as options. You’re leading the respondee and you’re not going to get as accurate results. Also, if you do insist on doing this, please include an “other” option which actually works, so I don’t have to spend my time doing things like this:

stupidsurvey

The text there being: “Other spirit and mixer NOT Gin and mixer, my ONE PREFERENCE is the option other, but apparently that’s not a real option. Again, please create surveys which can actually be answered in the way you seem to want.”

/rant

OK, I lied, I’m still doing the questionnaire and have now hit this:
stupidsurvey2

So my “Other” text here reads: The structure of this question is genuinely shocking, I don’t understand what you want so I gave up half way through.

Because honestly, what do you mean to ask when you say “Which of the following are important when choosing Beer, Lager or Ale” but then on options like “Price” which is important to me regardless of what I am drinking (because I am cheap), I have to pick one of the 3 products. WHAT? That makes no sense.

Language skills

Language

Once again, my post today is inspired by music I listened to on the walk to the gym. Once again, the inspiring artist is Will.i.am. For once, this post isn’t just a rant about his complete lack of lyrical ability.

Today, I want to talk about how Will.i.am (or possibly Cody Wise, who sings the chorus of the song) can quite decisively NOT speak Japanese, or if he can those aren’t skills that he is displaying in the song “It’s My Birthday”. In the song he claims “I can speak in Japanese/ Kawaī, kawaī, kawaī/” and then moves on.

This is an issue I think a lot of language students and linguists can relate to. No, you cannot speak a language just because someone taught you a single word. I’ve worked for years to come to the point where I will grudgingly claim I speak Spanish, and honestly despite studying for a Masters degree and having lived in Morocco for a year, probably wouldn’t claim that I can speak Arabic. So who are you, Will.i.am, to claim you speak a language by then repeating a single word.

Now, admittedly Will.i.am is an unfair scapegoat, because if we judge someone’s ability with language on the basis of them not just repeating words in a song I doubt he qualifies to actually speak any language. However, the fact remains that learning languages is hard, but ultimately very rewarding, and it’s frustrating to see people make light of the hard work which we linguists put in.

And that’s not all. If you boldly go into a bar in Spain and brag to your friends “Don’t worry, I speak Spanish”, before shouting “Por fayvor, servaysa andale andale” you are giving the British a bad name as well. Children in countries all around the world are working harder and harder to improve their language skills because that is vital now for real-world commerce and international engagement, yet we’re still happy to have our kids pretend to study French for two years before it can be dropped pre-GCSE. What not only the education system, but parents and guardians are failing to realise, is that though learning another language is hard work, it ultimately pays off. Instead of sending their child on exchanges or to classes, however, they go on holiday and insist on boasting about their own (lack of) language skills and perpetuating the issue.

I have been lucky enough to come from a mostly bilingual family who have nurtured a love of languages in me and pushed me to engage in language learning. That goes beyond my degree (I’m currently learning basic German using Duolingo, totally for free, just with the use of my internet connection) and I am so grateful for that, but I can’t help feeling that it shouldn’t be necessary. It’s a big world out there, which more and more people want to explore and which is more and more accessible. Why not take the time to learn more than how to say “where are the toilets” and “one beer please” and really enjoy wherever you are visiting?

It’s a big ask though, and attitudes aren’t going to change overnight. So for now, just stop claiming  you can “speak a language” when you “can’t”.

My day out

Fun, Life, Travel

So yesterday I went to Edinburgh for a day trip to see my friend, who is currently hanging out in Dundee at Dare to be Digital where she is making a game called Kuria which the world should be excited about.

I began my epic journey (for epic it was) at 5am, when the sun was just about rising and Leeds was blissfully silent. It was actually a lovely walk down to the train station and it really reminded me what I love about Leeds. I wish my phone took better pictures, because then maybe I’d have bothered with doing that. I didn’t, so on with the story.

So I reached the train station about 15 minutes early for my train and grabbed a coffee. All good. Then I went to wait on the platform along with my odd gaggle of travelling companions (because who is really taking a train at 6am on a Saturday morning. Mostly drunk people who didn’t bother finding somewhere to stay over from the night before, that’s who). We waited, and trains pulled up at other platforms, and we waited, and our train was 5 minutes late, and we waited, and no-one told us anything. Eventually, 15 minutes after our train should have arrived someone informed us there had been a lightening strike on the line and it was still at Huddersfield. By this point the drunks were sober, the rest of us had missed our connections, and we shuffled over to the funny little tin-can Northern Rail train which took us to York.

Having missed my connection I then had a while to potter about at York, during which time I was bounced between platforms and quietly followed around by a Korean family. Eventually the next train to Edinburgh came, and I found a seat surrounded by irritating Americans talking about “how weird it is that houses can have names instead of numbers here” and settled in. I eventually arrived in Edinburgh an hour and a half later than planned.

sallyandrobinined

The day itself was absolutely lovely (if a little rainy). We visited the Camera Obscura, the Fudge Kitchen, walked all the way up and down the Royal Mile, visited the Museum of Edinburgh (which is weird, and mainly taken up with ceramics, but that’s fine). We had a lovely lunch at Under the Stairs and visited the Grassmarket, saw the Scott Memorial a bit through the fog and explored a cool installation about the brain and learning difficulties in a  park.

Then, I got on my train back. This journey was thankfully much less epic than the morning. I decided to travel in fancy first class which meant a comfy single seat, free wifi, free supper and copious amounts of tea (which I really needed). I finished reading The Prince of the Icemark which my lovely Mum gave me to read for a recent birthmas, and which I may review at some point. There were some loud Geordies who entertained me generally with their weird conversations about how they have more money than sense, and therefore frequently do things like go to the theatre, and if it’s good, buy tickets for the same show the next night.

My final train of the day was York to Leeds, and once again was an interesting experience. If you’ve ever been in York station at about 10pm on a Saturday night then you will understand when I say WOW. York needs to calm down, because it is not acting like the classy neighbour that Leeds thinks it is. My train finally arrived, and we puttered along, stopping every five minutes to pick up 17-year olds off for a night out in Leeds, until we came to Crossgates, where the train inexplicably stopped.

Now, the reason, as I later found out, is that a lady collapsed in the front carriage (I was in the back). She was taken away by an ambulance and I very sincerely hope that she’s ok, and the same to anyone travelling with her as it must be a really scary experience. However, we in the back carriage had no idea what was going on for 40 minutes, because the train guard had a complete inability to speak loudly over the tannoy. After the third announcement it was just frustrating to have no idea what was going on.

Eventually we made it to Leeds, where I watched the guard getting ripped into by a passenger who was far more angry than me. I made my way home across the lovely Saturday night scene of Leeds (far less lovable and enjoyable than the 5am scene). I made it home at almost bang on midnight, 19 hours after I’d left.

It was totally worth it, I had an amazing day, and everyone should read all about Team Insert Imagination and the awesome stuff they are doing up in Dundee.

Bread

Food, Fun

I have the absolute luxury of sometimes working from home, and that was the case today. So when Boyfriend pointed out that we were out of bread, there was only one natural thing to do (following on from my foray into the baking cupboard earlier in the week) – bake bread.

I have never been good at bread, it’s one of those things which never ceases to frustrate me. I’m not sure what I’m doing explicitly wrong, but I think it has to do with patience, making a day when I am at work an excellent time to try again. I bunged the stuff into my mixer and set it to chug away while I got on with my various work-y tasks, and then only dealt with the bread in natural break-points. I didn’t faff or fiddle, I just let it do it’s own thing, and I’m happy to say that I think it actually worked.

first provesecond prove

Now, bear in mind that my flat has quite high ceilings, and for whatever reason God has deemed that Friday should not be a sunny day, so it’s also chilly. Not ideal proving conditions. However, I got a good rise on my first prove, and an even better on my second. Which left me, all told, with this beautiful specimen –

breaaaad

Now, remember back when this accidentally became a nail blog for a short while? I promise it’s also not going to become a baking blog. Probably.

Rude

Music, Rant

I actually wrote this post yesterday but scheduled it for today. That shows I’m being fancy. It also mostly defeats the object of secretly scheduling your posts to appear when you want, but I’m at work now (real now, not when I was writing…so confusing) so I couldn’t write a post now (when you are reading this now, not when I’m writing this now).

So anyway, moving on…

Remember how a few days ago I complained about rude and inconsiderate people? They are the bane of existence as far as I am concerned, and make me intensely angry. Which is why I find this song so annoying.

In this song, the frontman of a band who look like they could use a good wash goes to ask the father of his girlfriend for permission to marry her. The well-dressed suburban Dad says no, and greasy frontman then complains about how rude he is, and ends the chorus with a perky “I’ll marry her anyway”.

Right, let’s get to the problems I have. Firstly, greasy frontman, who asks for the father’s permission any more? Certainly not most guys like you. I am not a mega-feminist and I would find it charming if Boyfriend chose to ask my Dad’s permission before proposing, but I wouldn’t expect it because it’s not really the norm any more. So there’s that.

More importantly, Greasy Frontman, your girlfriend’s Dad isn’t being rude. That is not what is happening here. He has taken a look at you and decided that as you are stupid enough to actually ask his permission, he has every right to say no since you can’t seem to wash and you play in a band which live in a garage somewhere. The nice video production people have nicely styled him to be the antithesis to that lifestyle (as many people are) and it’s not unsurprising that (to be horribly cliché) he thinks his daughter deserves better.

That’s not RUDE

It might be narrow minded to some extent, and it might be not what you want to hear. It isn’t rude. What is rude, is asking a man his permission, being rejected, and then rather than working on that relationship in order to have a happy family life together, deciding you are going to defy him and marry her anyway (not even going to get started on her apparent lack of say in the matter). You are the rude one Mr Greasy Frontman. You.

Cake cake cake

Food, Fun

Yesterday, to the symphony of building work (which continues today, only louder, and more like a dying manatee) I baked a cake. It didn’t go well.

The reason it didn’t go well is that the battery in my scales ran out, and rather than buying a replacement battery I decided to see if I could manage without. The result was something which I could have anticipated pretty early on. I used too much egg and too much butter (or not enough flour, one way or the other) and the result – while not inedible – was not exactly nice.

cake1

However, undeterred, I went out today and bought a new battery, with the idea of trying again, and try again I have. I present to you my almond and chocolate chip loaf cake:

Method
When I was at school I got really into baking, and I’ve been trying to get back there ever since, because I found the science of it amazing. I have to admit, I’ve forgotten a lot (hence el-disastro-cake above) but at least I can always remember how to make a basic cake the way my Mum taught me. 4-4-4-4 otherwise known as 4 eggs and 4 ounces of everything else, which is 225 grams.

  • Mix 225g of sugar with 225g of butter until it’s pale and fluffy. I went for a 3 way mix of white granulated, demerara and golden caster.
  • Whisk 4 eggs lightly and then gradually add them into the mix. I also added some almond extract at this point.
  • Sieve in 225g of self-raising flour and fold together. I mixed in some ground almonds (because they are delicious).
  • Add in chocolate chunks – I sliced up a bar of chocolate which was asking to be used, but chocolate chips would have been as good.
  • Bung it all in a greased and floured loaf tin, and stick it in a pre-heated oven at 180° for 20 minutes(ish) or until you can poke a skewer in and it come out without stuff all over it. I say 20 minutesish because with my rubbish oven this actually took almost an hour of constant checking. However…

cake2-2 cake2

Taa-daa! A far better cake than the first attempt, and this one shall be a gift to the Astrophysics researchers of Leeds tomorrow, because I’m not trying to eat a full cake to myself right now.

Part of the reason for the baking is that a site which I have a bit to do with are running a #Bakespiration competition (and to be honest, to try again after that first cake I’d have to have some quite strong inspiration!) This isn’t a proper entry as I’m not allowed to enter, but if you are a baking fan then you can enter here (it’s worth £400, so there’s really no reason not to!)

PSA

Life, Rant

If you are graduating or attending a graduation at the University of Leeds in the next few weeks, and are planning on wearing a white dress or skirt, please do the world a favour and wear either nude or white underwear.

I know you think that your dress is different because it cost more money or you double checked in the mirror before you left.

It’s not.

Everyone can see your knickers.

 

This concludes this Public Service Announcement from SallyTalks.

[Under Construction]

Life

So, next door is having building work. Which is fine, except it would be nice if they had told us first, just so we could have prepared. Because when I say building work, they may as well be demolishing the place and building it back up from the ground from the noise they are making.

I know that living in a terrace this was always going to happen, but I just wasn’t prepared for quite how extensive the noise and disruption was going to be. As I write this I’ve had to get up three times to check that the house isn’t being broken into, and I’m horribly aware of everything I do being overlooked from the (frankly excessive) scaffolding which has appeared everywhere.

I always say that there are only two things in life which really make me angry, which are rude and inconsiderate people. These building shenanigans fall squarely into the latter category. I understand that the work needs doing, but I don’t for a moment believe that
a) No-one knew to drop something through our letter-box letting us know.
b) Any of it really has to be done pre-8am, or on a Sunday. Please people, one day of rest.

All I can say, is I’m excited for it to be over. It never looked like a very nice house anyway.