Recurring Dreams

I have a recurring dream. It is not always exactly the same setting, or exactly the same ending to the narrative, but there have now been 3 variations on the theme: I'm pregnant, but I don't have the baby. (Family and friends, this is not a disguised announcement; those who don't know me, I don't have any children.)

In the first one, I was very heavily pregnant and there were lots of people - friends, family, people I don't know - gathered in a room. I don't remember why. They were all talking to me and very excited about the imminent arrival of the baby, though. I walked into a different room (it became a chapel) and went into labour. I went to the hospital, but there was no baby. Apparently, there had never been one. I just sort of physically 'deflated'. I was very confused; I was absolutely sure there had been. I had felt its weight. I went back to the gathering. Everyone was very disappointed, and many of them thought I'd lied to them - made it up - and now they didn't want anything to do with me.

The second one I don't remember quite so clearly. I remember that I was pregnant and went into labour and then everything just stopped. It didn't disappear, like the first one, but I didn't get any further in having it. I just went home, still pregnant.

In the third one - last night's dream - again, I was heavily pregnant. I thought I had gone into labour. I went to a hospital, got to a nurses' station and then it stopped. A false alarm. 'These things happen', said the nurse, and away we went. Then we (a group of friends, though not all people I know in my waking life) seemed to be on holiday, and we went to eat in the breakfast room of the Bed and Breakfast. It was upstairs on a sort of mezzane level, but the decoration was like a country cottage kitchen. There were only chairs around one (longer) side of a fairly large oval table. There was one empty seat and too many of us, so I said someone else could have the seat instead of me. I said I wasn't very comfortable sitting anyway, and I wandered around a for a while, snacking. I set off down the stairs again and went into labour - not a false alarm this time. No attempt to get to a hospital, and there was no doubt that there actually was a baby, but despite my best efforts and the support of a friend, I couldn't push it out. I kept trying and trying, and the effort was exhausting and painful (I was watching myself shaking with the effort, and could see my face reddening) but it wasn't going to leave my body.

I think I must have left the dream then, because I can't remember any more beyond that, but I'm not surprised I was extremely tired when the Physio brought me a cup of tea to wake me up this morning.

Whilst there is the possibility that these dreams might in some way be related to a desire to have children at some point, I doubt that the surface story is the real meaning of what my subconscious is trying to sort out. Possibly something to do with delivering on a project or fulfilling potential, but my subconscious is worried that I can't do it. Maybe I am too. I wish I knew exactly what it is, though...

Walking through the mist

As I left the University this evening, a fairly heavy mist was hanging in the air.

I know from friends and family who drive that this sort of weather is not good for driving, but for me walking to the bus, and then home from the bus stop, it isn't really a problem. In some ways I quite like it. It's atmospheric. Literary. It feels a little like walking through the pages of a Victorian novel.

But on the other hand, it also feels a little like walking round when I'm not wearing my glasses.

Soundtrack

You know sometimes times you start singing a song to yourself, and it takes a while to work out how it got in your head - particularly if it isn't a song you've been listing to deliberately? Usually these are TV or film soundtracks, or music on an advert that have surreptitiously found their way into your head. It might take a while, but eventually you figure it out.

This week I've been wandering along, or sitting down at my desk, or having a shower and these songs have popped into my head:

'The Multi-coloured music bus'
('All aboard, the multi-coloured music bus. Its the most fantasic bus you've ever seen. The driver is a man called Sam, his brother George the ticket man...')

'Let there be peace on earth'
('Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin with me. Let there be peace on earth, the peace that was meant to be...') [I can give you all of the words for this, but I won't]

'Sweetheart tree'
('Won't you come with me, to the sweetheart tree; come and carve your name next to mine...')

The first two were from Junior school - we sung them in the choir. The last one was the music that my ballet class danced to in a show. We had pink 'princess' dresses. I think I was about 7.

I haven't heard these on TV recently. I haven't heard them at all recently. But for some reason, my brain is playing bits of the soundtrack to my childhood. How odd. Any suggestions why?

Sillyness.

I just read this.

It strikes me as odd that those in authority have suspended the Doctors concerned. Why? They say that it did not involve patients, and patient care was never compromised during this sillyness. If this is true, then sillyness is all it was - no harm done to anyone. But now, a presumably busy A&E is even shorter on staff because these doctors and nurses have been suspended.

That's not sillyness. That's madness.

mini updates

Once again it's been a long time since I wrote a post. It's not even that I haven't had things to post about:

- I've been on a holiday with my family
- The physio and I are now attempting a long distance relationship
- My admin job has had certain ... quirks
- I am attempting to turn a conference paper into an article
- Until today I was looking unemployment in September squarely in the face
- I am still negotiating the evil world of the academic job market

I really must get back into the blogging habit!

Is someone trying to tell me something?

Last night, I dreamed that the university to which I was attached (in the dream - it wasn't a university I recognise from my waking life, so I don't know what position I had there) had moved me into a different office. Without telling me. I had to ask a friend (one I did recognise from my waking life, but whom I have not seen for some time) where my stuff was and why I'd been moved. He didn't know why, but took me to what can only be described as a cupboard with bookshelves and a chair, where I found that all of my boxfiles of printed off articles, notes and my own work had been drenched in a large scale leak. I tried to get them out to dry them, but couldn't do it quickly enough; there was no space to spread them out and suddenly there was no one there to help.

Oh dear.

Mail

Today at work I received a bulk mailing email containing this text:

"A number of personal items have been sent to the Mailroom recently in University PPI envelopes. Please note that PPI envelopes are to be used for business purposes only and MUST NOT be used for personal mail. Any personal mail found in PPI envelopes will be returned to you and your head of department may be informed. Thank you."

And I find myself wondering several things: how do the mailroom know that it's personal mail? How would they know to whom specifically it should be returned? And what terrible fate would await me if the headmaster - no, wait - Head of Department were to be informed?

The only answer to the first two questions - if the mailroom are sure that it's personal mail sent in university prepaid envelopes - is that they open the outgoing mail. I'm not sure that's entirely legal (but do correct me if I'm wrong, here). Nevertheless, their choice of the verb 'found' in this message - "any personal mail found in PPI envelopes" - implies that they do indeed open mail to find such things.

Well, this is possibly a poor choice of words on their part. And I'm pretty sure that they don't open all the mail that goes through the postroom. If they do, they have far too much time on their hands, and cutting down the number of staff there might well pay for the odd personal letter that goes through the system. But if they don't open all the mail, then really, the Powers That Be (and Complain) in the mailroom are just guessing that it's personal mail. And their policy of returning it to the sender could result in significant delays in important communication to, for example, external examiners who choose to receive mail at their home address rather than at work. I have sent several such packages / letters that might look suspiciously personal through the mailroom in my administrative job. A thank you card to a guest speaker could also be classified as 'personal', and would look so, although it would technically be official university business. On the other hand, I could, but don't, send personal mail to friends at other universities that looks official through the university's pre-paid post (for example officially addressed to Dr September Blue, University in the Big City etc. etc.). Mailroom might never know.

And that brings me back to arguing that the only way of knowing this would be to open all the mail. In which case, surely you can find something better to do?

Tourist attractions

Last weekend The Physio and I went for a weekend away together in a Historic City. The weather was lovely, so we spent some time wandering around looking at the old buildings, some of which look like they are falling over. There is a strange mixed of ancient and modern there, but somehow it all seems to work together.

We went to some of the tourist attractions too, including a castle tower, which looked very small in comparison with the Scottish Castles I'm used to, but was very interesting nonetheless (and, in fairness, is only part of what used to be the Castle). But what most surprised me was this medieval townhouse, which is, for the most part, full of modern replicas, which means that you can sit at the banqueting table, handle the pottery, and sit in the parlour at the merchant's desk. They do have some original artifacts under glass - you can't handle those, but you can look at and read all about them. There are also lots of files containing information about literacy, games, fabric and all sorts of interesting bits and pieces. But they also have a fascinating exhibition on prayer, pestilence and plague, detailing the medical and dental facilities in the area in the medieval period, showing medical equipment, describing hospitals, and giving 'home remedies' for things like headaches and chapped lips (you can actually pick up a leaflet with the recipes in them if you want to). All in all, it is well worth a visit. As is the Minster. Give yourself plenty of time for that though - there's so much to take in. Perhaps too much for one visit.

The Physio and I might have to go back to that City to explore some more. Those are only a sample of the places to visit. So much to do; so little time.

Cakes

I was going to write a serious post about teaching women's writing and feminist theory. Perhaps that is to come - I'm still thinking it through.

In the meantime though, this is a frivolous post about cake.

I like cake. I'd go as far as to say I am a fan of cake. I was talking to someone the other day and he said chocolate cake is best. I think a well made Victoria Sponge could stand up to most chocolate cake, providing the cake-eater is not a chocoholic. Black-forest gateaux, however, is possibly the Queen of Cakes (any suggestions as to why I think cake is feminine?).

So, what is your favourite cake? And why?

Refreshed

I've have spent the weekend eating interesting, healthy, fresh, homecooked (but not by me), delicious, vegetarian food.

I have spent time sitting on a comfortable sofa in front of a wood-burning stove, and on a garden swing near a waterfall in the cool, fresh, winter air reading a book (which I have to read for work, but didn't feel like I was working).

I have gone to bed early and got up early, and spent most of the day wearing no shoes.

I have spent time with a close friend, whom I do not see as often as I would like.

I have spent hours practising yoga, meditating and doing pilates.

And I feel refreshed.

Counting down.

Someone told me this morning that it will be Christmas day in ten days time.

I was inclined to laugh, until I realised that it was actually true.

Ten days to Christmas.

I am, at least, almost prepared in terms of presents. I'm afraid most of my shopping was done online this year. Not very Christmassy, I suppose, but I have put thought into presents and / or got people what they've asked for, so I guess that is what counts, rather than the going out and making my way through the Christmas shopping crowds. I will go out and buy Christmas cards for family, though; I like to spend time reading the cards until I find the right one. I've already got the ones to send out to friends, although I haven't sent them yet. It seems I might need to buy some more - it's nice to realise you have more friends than you thought!

But I haven't been feeling very Christmassy. This term has flown by so quickly, and I'm just about still afloat. I'm making a concerted effort to clear the 'left overs' from my desk before Christmas, but more stuff keeps being added on to the list (not metaphorically - I've actually written a list so that I don't forget things, and can tick things off it).

I don't think I'll get through all of it - I'm working in Philosophy for four days before Christmas - but I'll have a go.

Ten days isn't very long...

Where I've been.

Well, it's been a long time since I posted, so I thought I should say something. It isn't that nothing as been happening - it is just that I haven't had much to say about it.

I've finished reading Regeneration for job number 4, and thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm very excited to be lecturing on it next year. I've set the reading list for a course on Contemporary Women's Writing I'm teaching after Christmas. I've just about found my way around the Philosophy Dept. for job number 3, and seem to be getting a handle on the job I'm expected to do there. I've been teaching first years, marking essays on sonnets and trying to get around to writing references for a former student. I've been walking the Little Dog, and going to my ballroom / latin class.

Oh, and playing scrabble on facebook.

For the record

I'd like to set this down in writing somewhere, because I know that no one else - particularly those administrators who have asked me and my friends about this for FIVE years now - will make a note of it anywhere:

There is NO postgrad conference organiser folder. It was never created. There wasn't one last year, or the year before, or the year before that, or even the year before that. There is not one this year. It unlikely, before you ask, that there will be one next year (see above about one never being created). In its place, I suggest you encourage communication between the postgrads who are running the conference this year and those who did it last year. This might help to re-instate the sense of postgraduate community that we had when we spoke to each other and did not need to create a folder.

I hope this is now clear, and uncomplicated, and the folder (which really does not exist - if we were trying to hide it from you we would have lost all amusement in this by now) will not be chased around again this year. Or next...

Having Brunch and Talking Seriously About Work

On Monday I came back to the City where the Castle is also Prison after spending the weekend with my friends in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss. On Saturday, I had lunch with Aspiring Author, and later I had a lovely evening at Amy's birthday ceilidh, where I danced (a lot) and giggled more than I have giggled in a very long time.

After such a wonderful - but late! - night, September Blue (with whom I was staying) and I had a very lazy Sunday morning. I got up after a lie in, which is something of a luxury for me because my Little Dog doesn't usually sleep that long, and spent an hour or so sitting in my pyjamas finishing a novel (the one for job 4, but reading a novel doesn't feel like work).

When we were both up and dressed, and after a little time spent checking emails and playing scrabble on Facebook, we decided to go out for breakfast. I looked at my watch and said, 'I suppose we could call it brunch now, really'. 'Yes,' said September Blue jokingly, 'we should Have Brunch and Talk Seriously About Work'.

We walked down to the diner that makes cooked veggie breakfasts (including vegetarian haggis!), ordered the food and talked for a while about the prevous night's ceilidh, how much fun we'd had, and how different our social lives are since our cohort finished our PhDs, and I moved away from the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss. And we talked about how we're doing juggling jobs (she has had more practice at this than I have; she's been doing it longer), and how very exciting it is that she is hearing positive things from a Big Named Journal about an article she has submitted to them in hope of publication. We talked about our future publication plans, our research plans, the job market and the poor conditions of TAs in all institutions.

I pointed out that we were actually Having Brunch and Talking Seriously About Work.

The waitress offered us dessert / coffee, and looking out of the window and seeing it was raining heavily, and not being inclined to move anywhere, we ordered more coffee.

And talked about deadlines, and friends, and thesis submission (ours and theirs)...

[pause to order vanilla cheesecake with two spoons, and 2 decaff coffees]

...bad boyfriends, former boyfriends, potential boyfriends, and our mutual friend who is Young and Fashionable, and the advantages and disadvantages of internet dating.

The diner was starting to get busy, and we were nearly finished with our coffees; it was no longer raining so heavily, and we'd probably been there around 2 hours, so we decided to pay the bill and leave. We were back in plenty of time for me to pack my bag and catch a train to Road Grid City to spend some time with The PhDLitChick.

It was a very luxuriously lazy and lovely way to spend a Sunday (and a whole weekend).

And I realised how very much I miss spending time and being silly with my friends in the Beautiful Scottish City that I Miss, and Having Brunch and Talking Seriously About Work.

Tricks of the academic conscience

I often have vivid dreams and I have, before, woken up screaming in a nightmare, or found myself out of breath when I woke up from shouting at someone in a dream.

On Sunday night I dreamed that I was trying desperately to finish my thesis before the deadline, and no matter what I did, or where I took my papers and laptop, I couldn't get it finished. Some people tried to help; others just kept getting in my way - not deliberately, just unthinkingly. And I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to persuade Registry to take it after the deadline. And I'll never know now, because my alarm went off before I got it there. And it took a good 20 minutes after I woke up from this panicking dream for the panic to subside and for my heart rate to get back to normal.

This would make sense if my thesis was due, but it isn't. Those of you who have been reading Falling Leaves for a while will know that I submitted my thesis over twelve months ago, and that submission day was a nightmare. But I didn't have such vivid panic dreams about thesis submission before I handed it in, and I haven't had them since. Until Sunday night.

Now, I have a couple of small projects that have to be completed soon, and I wonder if this dream is a way of making my get on with those things. When you are in state of perpetual finger crossing, motivation is hard to find. My academic conscience can't convince my subconscious to care about whether I get this book review finished on time, so it resorted to reminding me of a time when I really did care that something was finished on time, and it almost wasn't, and the panic I felt then.

Seems a little drastic though, for a book review deadline (extended twice though it may be). Nevertheless, it was a good trick; I'll be getting on with the review now.

I don't want to get any more reminders of a deadline like that one.

Wise Words

These wise words are borrowed from a conversation I had with a friend today. I thought they were important enough to be published somewhere, and hope she doesn't mind:

"Instinct: not always eloquent, but usually right"

So, even if you're not sure exactly why your instinct is telling you something, it shouldn't be ignored.

Time keeping

This morning I went to the dentist. My appointment was at 10am. I never expect these things to go exactly on time so I wasn't surprised, or even particularly cross, when 10am came and went, and I was still waiting.

At 10.20, the dental nurse came into the waiting room: "Autumn Song?" I stood up. "We're running about 20 minutes late. Are you happy to wait?" I was a little confused. It's a bit late to ask if I'm happy to wait the 20 minutes I've already waited.

"You mean it will be another 20 minutes?", I asked.

"Yes. We're running 20 minutes late".

"But I've already waited 20 minutes. So you're running 40 minutes late?"

"What time was your appointment?"

"10am"

"What time is it now?"

"20 past 10".

"Well, we'll be another 20 minutes".

"So, you're running 40 minutes late." I confirm.

She asks again if I'm OK to wait, and I say yes. She turns to the lady whose appointment is after mine.

"Are you also OK to wait?" she asks, "We're running half an hour late."

A Plea from a Pedestrian

I don't drive. I had lessons a long time ago. I hated it and I gave it up. I plan to learn again one day (this is one of those very vague at some unspecified distance from now, 'one day's), but for the moment, I am predominantly pedestrian or a public transport user. I have already posted about the joys of using public transport. Today I want to make a polite request to road users from a pedestrian.

When the traffic is busy, you know you have to use indicators to indicate that you intend to take a particular road at a junction (having travelled in cars, I know that not all of you actually do this, but you should, and you know you should). However, some of you feel that this is not necessary when only pedestrians are anywhere near. There are no other vehicles, so you choose not to indicate your intentions because no one else needs to know where you are going.

Well, that's not true.

I need to know where you are going if I am trying to cross a road. Any pedestrian needs to know where you are going so that they can make a sensible judgement as to whether to step into the road. If you don't tell me you are turning up that road, and I step into it, it is your fault if I am in your way. It is not my fault. I think - reasonably so, because by not indicating a turn you implicitly indicate to me that you are not turning that way - that you are not turning up that road. Equally, if I am trying to cross the road you are already on, and you don't indicate but then turn off anyway, I have lost an opportunity to cross a potentially busy road safely whilst you are holding up the traffic. In the rain, or if I'm in a hurry, this is extremely annoying.

It would be much less stressful, and much safer for all of us - drivers and pedestrians alike - if you drivers always indicate your intentions at junctions.

Please.

Fashion?

I've never really been into fashion. I wear clothes that I like, that are comfortable and that, I hope, suit me. Even when I was a teenager the girls my age wandering around in the evening / at night wearing tiny dresses and no jacket because "coats aren't fashionable" puzzled me. I'll take unfashionable over hypothermia any day. So, clearly, I'm a lost cause when it comes to fashion.

But last week, when I was in a fairly fashionable high street store, looking for something specific, this lack of fashion understanding was pressed home to me in a big way. I looked at this 'item' (I was going to say 'garment', but I'm being deliberately vague) and thought "What is that? A skirt? a dress? a top? an Elizabethan ruff collar? How would one wear this item?"

I think I won't shop there again. It makes me feel very old. And I'm not.

On a shop door:

During the summer, opening hours will be:

Monday: 10.30am -4pm

Thursday: 10.30 - 4pm

Friday: if it's raining