Poes in Boots

Perhaps one of the best things about my recent move has been having housemates. While I was living on my own, I really thought I was content (at least, most of the time). Indeed, one of my biggest concerns in the weeks leading up to the move was having to learn to live with people again. I had gotten used to being on my own, taking a shower when I felt like it, making dinner while having Netflix on in the background, talking to myself out loud, you know, the usual things you do when you're on your own. Having to navigate two other people's schedules was a seemingly daunting task. Looking back at those anxieties, I have to laugh. These past three weeks have been really fantastic and I think both my mood and productivity have skyrocketed.


Now, while I try never to play favourites, I must confess that there is one housemate for whom I have a soft spot. Poes is Ceciel's cat and I must say that living with an animal again has really been amazing. Those of you who have read my other blog know that back home in the States, I have three lovely ferrets, Chase, Enzo, and Lamborghini. I miss them a great deal every day I'm here. I grew up always having pets in the house and one of the hardest things about living in the UK is that I had to leave them behind. My parents take excellent care of them and I know through Skype sessions that they are doing well and are happy. I also know that Lambo is still being his very mischievous and naughty self in my absence. So while I can't have my babies with me (yes, I'm one of those people whose pets are like their children), I have been able to have some bonding time with Poes.

These are my babies back in the US. Lamborghini, Chase (on top), and Enzo.

Over the past two weeks or so, Poes and I have had occasion to spend a lot of time together. He really is quite a sweet cat who enjoys cuddles (up to a point), exploring our back "garden," and trying desperately to apprehend his arch nemesis the laser pointer. When Ceciel had to be away for a few nights, he took to snuggling up in my bed. It was really lovely, though I must admit, it's far easier to snuggle with the ferrets in bed as they tend to take up less room and sort of enjoy keeping to themselves. When I woke in the middle of the night in a shape resembling that of a pretzel in order to keep from disturbing His Majesty Sir Poes, I decided that while I enjoyed having him sleep there, I couldn't give up all my comfort for his sake.

This was the first night, Poes decided to climb into the TARDIS bed.
Unfortunately it's not bigger on the inside.

This was my view when I woke up the next morning.

He was very tolerant of my need to capture the moment.

But then he was ready for breakfast. Note the disapproving stare.

Sometimes, Poes can be quite silly. He was playing on the stairs when he flopped over rather dramatically and lay in this position for about five minutes. Ceciel and I were puzzled by his wild-eyed stare, but I think someone found a stash of catnip somewhere.

Even Dutch cats like to sit in boxes. It's one of the universal laws of feline-ness.

Waking up from a nap to a smiling kitty in your lap is one of the best feelings.

On a separate note, it would be remiss of me to publish this post without mentioning an important anniversary which happened yesterday. Two years ago on the 25 September, I moved to the UK for the very first time. No one is more shocked than I am that it has been two years. Now full confession, there was a four month hiatus between my Master's degree and when I began my PhD when I moved back home and I did spend a month traveling in the US between April and May of this year, but the majority of the past two years, I've spent living as an expat. It makes me feel all sorts of things when I really try to think about what that means. I think, despite the mountain of student loan debt, the homesickness, the wrenching feeling I have when I think of all the things I am missing back home, I am exceedingly lucky to be on this adventure. It's not something I genuinely thought I would do and it's moments like these that really encourage me not to take a moment for granted.

Ready for more adventures...

Laundry and Cookies, er Biscuits, Oh My!

Getting used to a new place and routine can be very exhilarating if exhausting. I set out on Monday to carve out a schedule to keep me on track towards my probation review* at the end of October. I decided to divide most of my days into morning CrossFit sessions and afternoon writing/reading/general PhD stuff sessions. There are some students who can work 9-5 on their PhDs (or so they claim, I’m highly suspicious of such exertions) but I am not one of those people. I do best when I’ve had some time to look through things, have a cup of tea, read a bit more, watch an episode of Star Trek, do some writing, stare out of the window, answer emails. It’s a very organic process. (At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself.)

It’s been a good week. I managed to hit CrossFit every day with two rest days thrown in there so that I can appreciate my DOMS⁺ more fully. It has been awesome getting to the box more. Though I’ve been getting stronger, it has been a very slow process. Maybe I’ve increased my weights half a kilogram but at least it’s something. The walk to the box is much more enjoyable as well. Going through the park early on a crisp autumn morning is one of the most rejuvenating parts of the day. The leaves are stubbornly holding onto their colour at the moment, but every day that passes brings fall colours that much closer.

View across Victoria Park.

I can't wait until these trees are red and gold and orange.

One thing that I must confess will take some getting used to is drying my laundry here. In the past, it has dried quite quickly (maybe in three days at the most) on my drying rack. This was mostly due to the fact I’ve always had ready access to drying machines both in Durham and at my old flat. Unfortunately, I have but a washing machine here and after almost a week, my clothes were no closer to wearable. Reticently I hung them up on the clothes line outside. Now, just a quick reminder that I live in England. In true stereotypical form, the day I hung my laundry was very overcast. I had looked at the weather report which assured me that despite a high percentage of humidity, it would not rain. I worked through most of the afternoon but every two minutes or so I found myself squinting out of my window trying to tell if it were raining or not. I was just convinced that it would begin to pour and I’d have to start the maddening laundry process all over. After checking on my clothes three or four times and realising how difficult it is to tell whether clothes are still wet or just cold, I brought them in for good and hung them in the closet. I am greatly looking forward to the next time I get to go through this thrilling new ritual.

This is a dramatic recreation of events. No garments were harmed during the making of this photo.

A house is not a home until you have baked in it. I’m not sure what great person first said this, it is possible it was George Washington, though I doubt he ever lifted so much as a finger to measure out some flour for chocolate chip cookies. Last Sunday Ceciel and I set out to make some sugar cookies. Now I must pause here to mention that in the UK cookies are basically considered chocolate chip cookies, any other sort of cookie-like thing would be called a biscuit. At least, I think I’ve got that right. This comes after an earnest conversation I had with an English person in which we both became confused about all things cookie/biscuit. Now baking is very much about chemistry. You must put the right proportion of ingredient A with the correct proportion of ingredient B and as long as the ratios are good and proper you should end up with a delicious cookie. I’m afraid however, that using an American recipe but with UK measurements and gas mark ovens requires at least a first class Master’s degree from one of the UK’s top chemistry programmes. Something neither Ceciel nor I possess. Our first batch….well…they sort of melted. Thankfully Ceciel took matters into her own hands and saved the day with an extra egg and lots of extra flour. Truly, she is a cookie hero. The rest of them came out beautifully.

What you see here is a commentary on the hardships of life. Mainly that I suck at reading directions and measuring. By the way that's supposed to be a T-Rex at the bottom. 

Ceciel had so many cute cookie cutters. Biscuit cutters. Cookie cutters. Oh I give up. The T-Rex at the top is mine though, because dinosaurs.

That's much better!

I was very excited about having T-Rex cookies.

I suppose along with my baking and laundry adventures I have been eking out more work over the past week. My probation review document is coming together like Frankenstein’s monster. (I’m grafting parts of my two major papers together in the hopes of creating a brilliant review of my progress.) I’ve managed to list every paper, book, article, chapter, pamphlet, and journal I’ve read since January and I’ve produced my first Gantt chart laying out what the next two and a half years should (in theory) have in store for me.

I've got my windowsill of plants. (Two I rescued from the rubbish bins at my last flat.)

It's small, but very cozy.

I like my travel posters. Can you believe they make them for imaginary places like Cambridge? I know, me neither.

Mr. Fox guards my door from unwanted visitors. Luckily I like having visitors, especially kitty visitors.

All in all, it has been a pretty great first two weeks in my new home. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll just start a load of laundry. It looks rather like it might rain later.

*Basically I have to account for all of the work, reading, and research I’ve done up until this point. If I pass I can go on to field work, if not I have six more months to prove my worth.

⁺Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness otherwise known as the devil.

Take Two

Sunday mornings in Leicester have to be my favourite. I have a bit of a lie in, make myself some breakfast (breakfast of the moment is two vegetarian sausages and two soft boiled eggs with a cup of tea), and then I walk to CrossFit. My walk is usually one of the best moments of the week. Leicester on a Sunday morning is very quiet. Little to no traffic and only a few people out and about. I must say though that today’s walk was even better probably because I was leaving from my new house.

I’d been living in a very nice studio flat since I arrived in Leicester eight months ago. There wasn’t anything wrong with it and in time I got used to the walk to and from the department and the box. It was pretty close to the town centre and I had it all to myself. That last part was sort of the problem. I work from home (I find it nice to be able to grab a cup of tea and watch a quick episode of QI on YouTube during my breaks) and on days that I didn’t go to CrossFit or didn’t have a meeting at the department, I just wouldn’t see another human being. As an introvert, this arrangement was pretty nice…until it wasn’t. Until I was feeling very cut off from people and was missing the whole social aspect of, well, being a human. So when a room became available in Ceciel’s house, I decided to go ahead and sign the housing agreement. It was a difficult decision. I had become quite complacent in my studio and had grown used to my routine. But that was the problem! I knew I needed a bit of shaking up and this was going to be it.

The fact that the house came with a feline housemate may have made the prospect even more appealing.

So on 30 August with the help of my lovely friend Eamon from CrossFit and his car (you don’t realise how much you miss having wheels until you need to move all of your things across town) most of my belongings made it to the house. There were only a few things for Jeremy (who was kind enough to come up to Leicester to offer moral support as well as unpacking support) and I to bring over the next morning after we picked up the keys.

It took three trips to get it all across town. The last trip only had three small boxes though.

This felt like a re-do. There had been nothing wrong with my first eight months here, really, but I had often found myself feeling in a rut. Though my work was exemplary, I just didn’t feel right. I had gotten out of some of my favourite habits: blogging, walking, and just generally socialising. Everything felt off. This move was me hitting the reset button on things. It definitely helped that it came at the beginning of autumn; a time I always feel is ripe for new beginnings.

Fall is my most favourite season. The air feels crisp and cool and just lends itself brilliantly to curling up with a hot apple cider. The leaves don their very best colours before bidding this world adieu and then there are the pumpkins and mums (chrysanthemums, not English mothers, though they are nice, too). Perhaps it’s because fall always signified the start of a new school year that I always feel my most optimistic, my most excited, and my most ready for new beginnings. It’s like I’ve never lost that love of freshly sharpened pencils, chalk, and the feel of a brand new start-of-the-school-year dress. It felt like everything was full of potential. That the year was pregnant with possibilities just waiting to be discovered. That’s exactly how I feel now, sitting here at my desk in my tiny but deliciously cosy room. I just feel ready to give Leicester and this PhD another go. Everything is fresh and I have a brand new perspective. I just hope these feelings last.

My new neighbourhood on a beautiful Sunday September morning

Alright Postcards from Leicester. Take two. And……ACTION!