So I haven't written a post in, oh, a decade. I shall give you an excuse explanation. Well, you see, it's been Christmas, and as you know from previous posts I've been more than a tad excitable of late, and I have allowed preparations for the festive season to pretty much commandeer my life for the past few weeks.
Also, I've started a new notebook (journal, of sorts) after finishing my latest one a few weeks ago. It is, needless to say, a thing of utter and complete beauty and I'm pretty attached. It always takes a little while to get used to a new notebook and to get over initial excitement about binding, paper quality, and to decide whether a .5 or .7 nib would be best, etc. (yes, I know...).
However! the preliminary zeal has somewhat subsided so I've now begun to think of my poor neglected blog once again.
Well, that was until I discovered this. Or, rather, my excellent mum bought me a year's subscription to it as a Christmas present. It is difficult - nay, impossible - to convey the sheer beauty and perfection of 'the real reader's quarterly'. Suffice it to say, it came tied in a green ribbon and asked me to put aside 'the challenge of the e-book and other similar worries' in the note from the editors. Need I go on?
I spent much of this afternoon curled up in front of the fire, gliding my way through my first issue (no. 28) and dreaming of working for such a gorgeous company. If you're remotely interested in reading, I beseech you - try it.
So, in short, all these things have led to the neglect of ol' goshkate.blogspot. So, in the next few days and weeks I shall address this injustice (as well as the hideously lingering guilt of the inexcusable abandonment of the goshkate presence on YouTube), and cast aside my new glittering literary appendages in favour of the old dependable blog.
Huzzah for that!
Ok, so Facebook has - once again - changed its layout. Or, rather, the layout of our profiles. Now, I think Facebook is great (despite the somewhat sinister The Social Network...) and I've been a relatively avid user since I was persuaded to join when I was 17 (ish).
I do actually quite like the new profile layout, although I don't like the fact that the "education and work" section comes before the "about me" section (it smacks a little of LinkedIn and smug middle class-ness. But anyway...), but I do like the little row of pictures and details under our names (because, in my smug middle class-ness, I rather like having my university course and languages that I speak under there...).
But it was when I was filling in my "languages" section that I came across that ubiquitous linguistic loophole: "English English." That's right. I was able to choose between speaking "American English" or "English English." Is this really what it's come to?!
Now, I do concede that there are some inevitable (if incorrect... *gasp* that's right, I said it) differences in the spellings of perfectly commonplace words such as "colour" and "recognise" that Americans seem to have adopted, but surely - surely - we're still speaking the same language?!
Granted, at times, the Americans may seem mumbling and lolling in their speech, but surely we can sweep those differences aside and say, definitively, that "Yes, brothers, we are united in our speech of one common and glorious language."
Either that, or I'll just refuse to put "English English" under my name on my profile.
Disclaimer: You Americans are lovely really. I love your trilling, honeyed voices.
So, that festive spirit I was talking about? Well, it's well and truly hit. Seriously, thinking about Christmas-related joys has had me scrunching my toes with glee for days.
So, we decorated our (somewhat bijoux) Christmas tree the other day - in a much similar vein to last year, but with the promise of additions - and we've got a house Secret Santa on the go. Tonight is the English Department Christmas Party, and one of my tutors said she'd be bringing mince pies to our seminar next week (softening the potential blow of getting our marked essays back...). I am literally so excited!
I had my first mince pie of the year on Sunday night at my church's first carol service of the season - there was a brass quintet! I have truly regressed back to the mentality of a child; all thought of social etiquette went hurtling out of the window at the sound of "Hark The Herald" and I whooped and clapped at their instrumental encores as we were munching mince pies. And there's more.
The snow. Oh, the snow.
We've had pretty much continual snow for over a week - I'm talking icicles over a metre long, snow drifts up to my thighs, -17 degrees C, the whole caboodle. It's bloomin mint! Even in my little studenty house where I can see my breath in my bedroom, I'm loving the snow. And that in turn has made me fall in love with the North East even more. When the snow hits London, virtually everything stops. When the snow hits the North East, they send men out with shovels in front of the buses to keep them running. Well, almost.
I just love the hardiness of the North Easterners - and I think it's catching. I find myself going out without a coat, going barefoot in the snow to take the bins out, and climbing over next door's wall to get out of my house because my gate is blocked with snow. There's a spirit of "let's just get on with it", and man it's refreshing.
So, here I am in our little winter wonderland - with numb toes but aching for Christmas.
