Seachain an duine a bhíonn ina thost

Wow, next time anyone's in America, please get me on of these Mozart Didn't Like To Practice Either t-shirts. Ian might like one of these.

Also, if you're a fan of brit-pop, go have a look at Copy, Right? before the brit-pop covers get taken down.

A wonderful thing happened today. We went to Cork to do some shopping in the sales. Now Cork has recently acquired a Lush. I wasn't particularly planning to go in there because I have quite a lot of stuff already, but Mum wanted to go in to get something for Ian, so we popped in.

They had The Best sale offer on.

Spend 30 euro and get ANYTHING in the shop free. Anything. So Mum and I spent 30 euro on this and that, and got a SEVENTY EURO hatbox free. Bargain!

Later we decided our cousins needed some Lush products for Christmas too, so we went back and bought them presents there. Unfortunately all the hat boxes were gone, so we only got a 50 euro box this time. Apparently they had ten 150 euro hatboxes first thing in the morning but they obviously got snapped up straight away.

What a great promotional tool. We spent 60 euro more than we intended to, so Lush benefited, and we got 120 euro of stuff free so we benefited too. I love Lush.

Mum's diligently typing up my diary of my time in Cuba. Go read it here if you have some time to spare (and who doesn't at Christmas time?).

To keep you entertained on Boxing Day, make your own Bush speeches and explore the other flash games on offer, elf yourself, buy a Charlie Haughey conman t-shirt, try out some cardboard speakers, read geeky women writing about being geeky, or be virtuous and take part in a year of living generously.

James Brown has died!

Merry Christmas and all that. I like Christmas. It's nice and relaxing. We're sitting in the front room (rarely used apart from at Christmas because it's north-facing) in our pyjamas (except for Mum who has that Protestant gene that prevents her from being slovenly) playing with our new toys. I've got ooodles of detective stories and Lush products and a bouncing tigger and and and and ... oh, and The Great Aunt Anne got me a gold handbag which will go ever so well with my new black cocktail dress.

Anyway I'm very excited about our nine course meal we'll be having later. I've done my bit, making some sorbet (which I think probably won't be as good as last year's: I forgot to stir it while it was freezing and raspberries/blackberries aren't as good as mango and passion fruit for forcing through sieves) and my traditional pavlova. Of course there's trifle too: what else would you do with the yolks left over from making meringue other than make custard? Well, mayonnaise is good too.

Christmas Rule No. 1 Chez Goggin is quite simple, and goes a little something like this:

Thou shalt not decorate the Christmas tree until the offspring return home.

The senior members of the household are very good at obeying this rule, and don't even buy the tree until we get home.

This is how we got hit by the Great Christmas Tree Shortage of 2006.

Apparently it's a nationwide shortage. Too many Christmas trees are being exported, and there's a general feeling that we're all too posh to just nick trees from the forests and sell them these days. Damn Celtic Tiger economy. We may have sourced one in Nenagh (approximately twenty miles away) and perhaps even one in Newport but it seems a little like buying things on the black market, all knowing someone who knows someone who might have one.

And I Will Not tolerate a fake tree in my house.

The riverbank on a normal day:







The riverbank in the floods:

I've just been down to the river to walk the dogs, and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by how huge it is. It's ... huge. And very fast-flowing. It has even covered the big rock, home to the Castleconnell Rock-sitting Association [CRA] (of which I am a founder-member). It's a damn good thing we only usually meet in summer or CRAP (CRA personnel) wouldn't have anywhere to sit and drink cider.

I'll have to go down again tomorrow to take some pictures so I can post normal-river and huge-river pictures so you can comprehend the difference.

Holidays are so very complicated: I'm faced with so many choices. Should I eat or shower first this morning?

Should I have breakfast or just move straight to lunch (it is officially the afternoon now)?

Should I continue reading For Whom The Bell Tolls in the hope that it'll get more exciting or try to find a different book?

Should I do some baking or just sit on the couch patting the dogs on the head?

Should I brush Goldie or just let his hair continue to fall out in chunks?

And is it better to use the pre-heat function on my electric blanket so it's very warm when I get in, or to use the overnight mode so it stays hot all night?

Last day at work before Christmas and all I want to do is go home and sleep.

That's my Christmas presents solved.

Special meeting of the Management Liaison Group today to discuss Students' Union funding. I think we put across our case quite well (despite my blushworthy comment that Sam has so kindly blogged about already).

Anyway, we're all in holiday mode here. No power in the morning until 11, so a bit of a lie in seems in order. Christmas party tomorrow evening, half day Wednesday then it's holidays for two weeks.

Imagine that. Two whole weeks. I'm not sure I can sit still for that long.

I've been meaning to add Mum to my list of blogs for some time (although Sam managed to find her without my help). In these busy busy times when I don't get to phone home as much as I'd like it's nice to read up on what's happening Chez Goggin.

Had a leisurely wander around town today, and was delighted to find a present I'd been considering buying had been reduced by 30% since I looked at it earlier in the week. Bargain. Now to get wrapping.

Finally finished, printed and distributed the December issue of Il Popolo del Sindacato, our SU newsletter.

We may get some angry questions at Council.

Playa Ancon. How jealous are you?

It's hard work, this Union newsletter business. The first issue of Il Popolo should be going to print tomorrow for distribution on Thursday, but I'm nowhere near finished writing the text.

I think it'll have to be a door-closed sort of day.

Sam asked me if I was drunk when I got dressed this morning. My outfit is perfectly co-ordinated! The yellow of my t-shirt and red-and-white of my skirt match my yellow, red and white wellies perfectly! How dare he.

Back from Cuba now. The internet connections there were too slow to blog regularly, and now I'm back it's hard to summarise the entire holiday. But I think my favourite moment was when we went horseriding in Vinales and our (very unofficial) guide took us to meet his friend Chico (who, he kept telling us, was 'loco').

Chico was a proper Cuban cowboy. He was sitting in this hut made out of palm trees and bamboo, wearing a cowboy hat and no shirt, chopping the tops off coconuts with a machete. He poured in rum, sugar, lemon and lime and served it to us with a straw. Only the Germans with the antibacterial hand spray (give up! It's Cuba!) objected to alcohol at 10am. He rolled us cigars from his home-grown tobacco, again chopping the tops off with his machete (which our guide kept pretending to slit Chico's throat with).

It just seemed properly foreign, and brings to mind Chris's old band, Fidel Castro And Those Crazy, Crazy Cubans.

You know when you have so much to write about you end up not writing anything?

Hallo,

We're posting from a hotel on the Playa Ancon because there's a big powercut in Trinidad. Bit like Castleconnell, really. We spent yesterday evening sitting in a restaurant chosen because they had a generator, being sung to by a lady with the most wonderful voice. We've bought a CD and everything.

Playa Ancon is beautiful -- all white sand and turquoise water just like you'd expect from a Carribean beach. It was quite cloudy and windy when we were here yesterday, but today it's very very hot. We managed to get sunburnt in the clouds yesterday, so we're going to have to be very careful today.

I like Trinidad. It's pretty with lots of pastel-coloured houses. It's a UNESCO World Heritage Site, which is nice for a town. It's got lots of tourists around the place which helps because although there are still lots of people hustling, if you say no they just move on to the next set of tourists.

Tomorrow we're going to Viñales, a village in the Pinar del Rio. It's quite a long journey there but we've managed to find a bus which will take us there in six hours instead of the nine it would take on the standard bus network. We'll probably spend Monday touring the area, then go back to Havana on Tuesday and fly home on Thursday.

I'll have to type up the diary I've been keeping when I get back -- it's much more detailed. Hasta luego!

.. or Treasure Island as we like to call it. It was the inspiration for Treasure Island, and you could see why on the ferry journey on the way over -- lots of little islands with caves and creepers and bays and all sorts of lovely piratey things. There are palm trees, coconuts and deeeeelicious bananas. But, guess what? It´s cloudy right now! I feel swizzed.

Today we went to the beach, taken there by a lovely taximan in an ancient American car. We were rather worried about getting into it, but in fact it was really lovely (if a little tatty) inside, with big comfy leather seats. I think he thought we were a little weird wanting to go to the beach in winter, but we went nonetheless.

We also went to the Presidio Modelo, the awful awful prison where Castro was incarcerated for two years (1953-1955). Lucky old Castro got quite a nice room, but there were these massive big round buildings which were absolutely awful. It´s difficult to describe them, so I´ll have to post photos here when I get a chance. Our taxi driver acted as a guide which was superb because I don´t think we´d have fully appreciated how awful it was without him explaining how it used to work. We got by with his broken English and our smattering of Spanish.

Havana is rather hectic really, with everyone trying to get money from you all the time. I found that pretty exhausting, so was quite relieved to get to this nice peaceful island instead. We´re going back to Havana next week, but I think that by then we´ll have got the hang of Cuba a little more so it´ll be easier. My camera was stolen on Sunday so you poor sabbs have been saved the misery of looking through my 1066 photos. However, the good news is that my mum´s camera will take several hundred photos.

Communism is a funny thing, but maybe I should wait until I´m not using a Cuban internet connection to talk about it.

I´m keeping a very thorough diary which I may turn into a blog when I get back, although it´d probably be so long that no-one would bother reading it.

Off to Cuba today. Well, tomorrow. Dublin today. I'm excited and a little nervous and more than a little stressed about all the things that need doing before I leave. Agh.

The Registrar has just written to all staff asking for our opinions on the proposed name change [looks like I'm going to win the bet: The preferred name would be “Bangor University” – a name by which we have been known colloquially for many years.].

I feel so valued.

Very exciting news, can't believe Sam hasn't already blogged about it. The University of Wales, Bangor has been granted degree-awarding powers.

There were all sorts of assessors lurking around the University last year, attending meetings, interviewing students, that kind of thing. During handover, we were invited to a meeting with the DAP assessors, so I like to think we had a bit of a part to play in getting the degree-awarding powers.

So Bangor doesn't need to be part of the University of Wales anymore. As far as I'm aware, no decision to leave the University of Wales has been made, but I know there was quite a lengthy discussion at University Council over what to call the University if it did become independent. I've got a fiver on Bangor University, but you never know.

At least now they've chosen the Option 5 Estates Strategy there's no chance of it being Rhyl University.

I'm devastated. Hargreaves have decided not to sell me those lovely Sugar boots.

They're pretty rubbish actually. They didn't send me a confirmation email, didn't debit my account, and the boots didn't arrive, so I emailed them to ask what was going on. They didn't reply. So I rang them, and was told that the boots were out of stock (despite the website telling me they were in stock), and so they'd cancelled my order. Again, hadn't contacted me to say so. They say they sent me emails, and that they must have been filtered out by my mail server. Rubbish, I think, and what's the point in providing a contact phone number if they don't use it for things like telling me my order has been cancelled?

Anyway, I can't find the boots anywhere else in the UK so I'm feeling a bit sad now.

Hilariously, someone has begun quoting Sam's manifesto on the University debate board.

Mr Morris has instructed me to blog before he gets home so he has something to read. I think this is very naughty of him since he has a fascinating essay to write on the Reformation. But nonetheless, here I am, pandering to his every whim.

In fact, I'm going to try drag Frodo to the cathedral this evening to indulge in a bit of choral evensong. Mr Morris will hopefully be robed and taking part in the ceremony. A bit of culture once in a while never did anyone any harm, and (can you believe it?) Frodo's never been into Bangor Cathedral.

Did you know that a chapter is a group which assists the bishop with running the diocese? I didn't. And I needed to know for the crossword I was doing on the ferry last week. Anyway, Mr Morris kindly filled me in today.

I have bought *gasp* four pairs of shoes in four days.



These beautiful boots are fleecy on the inside and will allow me to continue wearing skirts through the winter. I may even buy some tights someday. What a concept.












I already had a pair of these, but Dad threw them in the bin on Saturday because they'd fallen apart so much. He was right, they were unwearable, but I was devasted because they're such terrific shoes, so I bought a new pair. I'm wearing them right now, even though they clash with my red shirt.




Unfortunately I don't have a picture of the pink shoes I bought from New Look on Saturday simply so I could continue to walk around town (that's how much my shoes were falling apart).

I also bought a new pair of runners/trainers/shoes for wearing during sport. My old pair were very ancient and good foot support is important when exercising. Yes indeed, I bought a practical pair of shoes. Very exciting, I know.

Anyway, my poor bank balance is weeping silent tears, but never mind, I'll live off bread and butter for the next few weeks.

Sam will be delighted to hear that I've booked an appointment to get my roots (or 'regrowth' as they say in hairdresser land) dyed.

Back in Bangor after a luverly weekend at home. Got to spend time with my family and my dogs, and even saw both The Boys (in Limerick) and The Girls (in Dublin). I ate a lot of fantastic food, and I've brought some lovely cheese and meat back with me (including white pudding).

But I had to get up at 6:15 this morning to make it to the ferry on time. That was bad.

I don't think I've ever carved a pumpkin before, so Frodo decided to teach me how. Because he is A Boy Who Likes Science, we had to do it the complicated way. We printed off a selection of templates from tinternet, then went to Tesco to buy a pumpkin.

Unfortunately, Tesco didn't have any pumpkins left, so we had to make do with a melon.

Frodo tells me it was actually much better to carve than a pumpkin. Firmer.

Anyway, back to carving pumpkins/melons the scientific way. We stuck the template onto the melon with sellotape, then used a sort of poking tool from his dissection kit to poke the outline into the melon. Then we took the paper template thing off and used the scalpel to carve out the shape. Admittedly we also used old-fashioned scooping devices (spoons) to clear out the centre, and a normal knife to take the lid off.

Anyway, a fine first carving I think.

I thought Council was a little boring last night. No really exciting debate, just a faint ripple of dissent about a couple of issues which wasn't even strong enough to be noticeable if you weren't already aware of it. Perhaps it was partly sitting on the edge of the room rather than at the table, or perhaps it was the realisation that I'd just given myself a hell of a lot of extra work with the schedule amendment I brought to Council, but I just didn't particularly enjoy the meeting.

I did enjoy asking Sam about Finance Committee though.

I'm finding this week rather frustrating. I'm having to lock myself away in my office because I keep being asked to do things for people I'm not responsible for (Standing Committees, AU Clubs, even officers) and while I'd love to help, I'm not achieving anything for the people I actually am supposed to help (a small number of Standing Committees and all the societies).

I sent a scary email on Friday. The one to NUS telling them we were only going to be paying them £36,700 instead of the £47,000ish we should be paying.

They haven't replied yet ...

Wow, I've just been exploring all the fascinating facts I can find out about my visitors using SiteMeter. It's really rather interesting looking at where all my visitors are from, which website they came to me from and how my visitor numbers are actually increasing despite me blogging less. I feel motivated now. I WILL talk more. And maybe about more interesting things.

Except that right now I feel uninspired. I need to sweep my floor instead. My room is a mess. Maybe I'll take some pictures when my camera is charged so you can all see what a beautiful house I live in and generally how fascinating my life is.

Just been to an event organised by the Indian Society to celebrate Diwali and Eid. I really enjoyed myself: there was cheesy pop music, decorative candle-lit displays, delicious food and informative handouts.

The SU was well represented: I was there because they're a society, Dafydd was there because they're diverse, Felix was there because they're international, and Frodo was there because he had nothing better to do.

I've just received a text which simply says "Hello lucyxx". I don't quite know what to make of it.

My head aches (and a drowsy numbness pains my senses). Not just my head, in fact. I ache all over.

Busy week again.

There's the Storm controversy, to start with. Had a fairly odd Storm Exec meeting about it last night. Everyone knew what the purpose of the meeting was, but nobody seemed to want to mention it. Discussion did eventually get going, but only as I was about to give up hope and draw the meeting to a close.

Then there's Stage Crew, who need a brand new constitution and lots of policy documents written very quickly. This should have happened before they became a Standing Committee.

There's the website, supposed to be having a massive overhaul. But who has time to write all the content?

There's Councillor Training. Thankfully Dizzy has already done most of the session planning, because I haven't had time at all. There's sending stern letters to societies who've missed two Societies General Meetings in a row. Sorting out Forestry insurance. Releasing grants.

And there's the plethora of new societies hoping to affiliate to the Students' Union. There's some pretty good ones in there, but I don't know how many societies we can cope with with a tiny £7,500 budget for every single society. New ones include Beer & Ale Society (restarting), Comedy Club, Debating Society, Conservative Future, Friends of Treborth, CathSoc, Herpetology, Research Students Forum Social Club ... lots and lots and lots, basically.

I think I need a Societies Committee meeting.

Look at Sam in his shiny pyjamas!

SRA Nominations Party last night. Bit of a downer really: nobody from any of the stations present was nominated for anything. Gutted.

Nonetheless, I had a fun night. It was a pyjama-party-themed AU night that Storm was piggybacking on, so there were pyjamas aplenty. There's something nice about wearing pyjamas; everyone is instantly relaxed. Sam sported a very flash pair of shiny red pyjamas with a fluffy yellow dressing gown that made him look like Big Bird.

In true caring student officer style, the night ended with me, Sam and Frodo escorting an extremely drunk fresher home. It took us about an hour to get her from Time to the Ffridd Site, leaning on our shoulders all the way.

I was very impressed with her friend though: she was going to get her friend home however long it took, and she was going to spend the night sleeping on her friend's floor to keep an eye on her. All this after just three weeks!

Monday morning. Again. But oddly I feel quite happy about it, because I actually like my job.

Yesterday was extremely lazy. I didn't get out of bed until about half two, then went to the cinema and the Antelope pub quiz. Relaxation is good.

Oh, and I've just realised I haven't mentioned Tuesday's Council Meeting yet. Tact prevents me from going into detail; suffice to say it was controversial. Sam got censured, the ban on initiation ceremonies didn't get ratified and Stage Crew is now a Standing Committee.

Oh I am so very tired. I only had about four hours sleep last night; I went to the AU night (I feel I should go to all these fundraising events to show my support), then had to get up early to get into work and sort out the Union affiliations. I've been running training sessions all day: Captains/Chairpersons was very fun, very energetic, but by Secretaries I was flagging a bit. I still have Treasurers to do but I'm having a bit of a breather before starting that at three.

Training's quite fun really. Some sessions more than others, I suppose. It's always easier when you have a big, lively group and much more difficult with just two people. Or even one. And some subjects are more fun: we have to do lots of boring information for our poor Treasurers, whereas Captains and Chairpersons get to have nice brainstorming sessions about how to tackle the things stopping people getting involved. Feedback has been almost all positive, too.

Frodo's in London today at a BUSA Chairs meeting, so lost sporty people keep wandering into my office asking about ordering rugby shirts or meeting mountain walkers or counting money.

My new favourite silly news website.

Today is a headache of a day all round.

What a week.

Almost too much to write about, really. In summary:

Four nights running minibuses, involving cowboys, welfairies, Japanese tourists wanting photos, vomit, donations, water pistol fights with bouncers, the police and vast quantities of gratitude.

Two days running Serendipity. Problems on day one:

* techies turned up an hour late so when everyone turned up to their stalls there was no electricity or chairs
* Rhyl Marquee and Tent Hire turned up an hour late with a broken marquee, so had to drive back to get working poles
* O2 yelled at me because their stall wasn't big enough for a multinational corporation (*suppresses the urge to swear*)
* the security guards I'd ordered didn't turn up.

Despite all these setbacks, the actual event ran pretty smoothly. The NUS Wales people were extremely impressed which was reassuring. And day two was much better thanks to the Wales University OTC who very kindly came along early to help me set up tables, leaving me much more time to stress about other things.

There was also a day selling NUS cards (there was much displeasure when people realised they had to pay for discounts this year), a day packing goodie bags, and a day distributing goodie bags. An Exec meeting, lots of encounters with BWRPS (who need a venue for their wargames) and a Societies General Meeting. And I took minutes at the AU Captains Meeting.

But we rounded off the week in style: it was Frodo's birthday yesterday so we went out and celebrated. It was quite a lot of fun.

Isn't Ian's blog interesting at the moment? If only he wrote this much all the time. Topics this week have ranged from Nietzche and Hegel to gap years and Skype. Go read it.

Right, day one is over. Day two has begun. Seven hours of being-cheery-and-welcoming-freshers (with a hefty sprinkling of carrying stuff from cars until I realised it was stupid to offer to do that all day), five hours of herding freshers onto minibuses. With buying lots of packed lunches and trying to write a table quiz in between. Five hours of sleep later, I'm sitting in my office wondering what to do with the ten minutes before my minibus drivers arrive.

But day one seems to have gone pretty smoothly. In fact, the biggest crisis was probably that the FOD minibus electric windows stopped working halfway through the day. But we have very good RAC cover, and the RAC were on Ffridd site anyway, so that was a problem easily solved (the man came and replaced the fuse). We even had sunshine! My face is now a healthy shade of pink.

Just have to hope everything runs so smoothly the rest of the week ...

I'd like to publicly declare what a wally Sam is.

There's a three-page Freshers' feature in the Banglesey this week. The third page talks about the pastoral support you can expect at the University, and mentions that the Students' Union operates a creche for 3-month-olds to 5-year-olds.

This is funny for several reasons:

1) We don't have one.

2) The Banglesey made a very big issue of the fact that we were closing it down last year.

Now I thought that was funny enough in itself. But the third reason is best of all.

3) Sam proofread the article. And didn't notice the creche bit.

Went to a dinner for Hall Wardens last night. It was really very enjoyable. There were all sorts of University big-wigs there, and it was quite a nice feeling knowing I've now met most of them.

Sam, Frodo, Gerallt and I sat on a table with several of the ladies from Student Services as well as Meri Hughes (Pro-Vice Chancellor) and Mike Goodwin (Director of Estates). We tried very hard not to spend the meal campaigning, and it was quite enjoyable chatting about things other than work. Apparently Mike reads Sam's blog first thing every morning, but I think they haven't found mine yet. Which is nice.

Today I'm very tired. We went to the pub with the Hall Wardens after the meal. Nice to get to know them, they're such lovely people. But I'm exhausted. And my shoulders hurt. I don't feel like doing any work today. I wish Welcome Week wasn't so close.

Dad has pointed out that this coming Tuesday is International Talk Like A Pirate Day. We're really quite excited here in the Union (apart from Sam, who told me to "Knob. Off. Arr."). I may even dress like a pirate for the day, although that might startle the Hall Wardens somewhat.

To get yourself in the mood, go read Buccaneer Bachelor, containing such choice gems as:

We'll spend the meal swappin' stories and lies, and by dessert I'll have ye believin' me mother were a mermaid and me father were married to her.

(thank you to Emma for showing me this)

I slept for twelve whole hours last night. It was a lovely deep sleep, although when a girl shrieked very shrilly today I remembered that I was shrieking in my dreams. Can't remember why, but it probably wasn't something fun.

Saturday has unofficially been designated lazing day. Dorothy L Sayers, sunshine, ice-cream and the patch of grass beside the pier complement each other nicely.

Sam joined me, pretending to read some document on the relationship between Universities and Students' Unions, but really chatting and reading about cars. Don't believe him when he says he works hard. Although his Estates Strategy response is very good indeed.

So I'm trying to find something to do this evening that is more energetic than reading, but everyone's too tired to do anything. In all honesty I'm probably a bit tired too, so maybe I'll just concede defeat and have a boring evening. Goodness knows I have enough excitement lined up for the next couple of weeks.

Heehee, the Advertising Standards Authority has bitchslapped Tesco in Bangor. Apparently they've been running an ad claiming they sell locally produced food.

By local they mean made in Wales. Not Gwynedd, Anglesey or Conwy. Wales is fairly big, you know. I'm very impressed that somebody noticed, and that the ASA actually did something.

Locally produced food 1 Tesco 0.

Another day, another absent Sam. Oh, the power. I'm expecting at least three phone calls checking I haven't burnt down the Union during the day. Any less and I'll be disappointed.

My 'to do' list is still enormous, but now that my confirmation letters are almost done I'm feeling dangerously in control of the situation. This is of course completely untrue. But I've been in work for nearly 45 minutes and I haven't done anything except eat a very salty bacon bap Frodo brought me.

We need more water in the water cooler. Or an open shop. Actually that'd be better; a carton of milk would be just perfect. I'm looking forward to buying a croissant in Freddy's each morning when term starts. Cereal is far too time-consuming. I'm feeling particularly profound today.

Okay okay so I'm talking a lot today. But one final thing: look atthe picture my cousin Isabelle did:



Bless!

 I spent most of this week in Leeds. I like Leeds. There's lots of shops. Shops that were fun to look at, but didn't extract any of my money from my wallet. Even in exchange for goods. There was a nice floppy hat in one of the shops but really it was too silly to spend £20 on.

It's been a fluffy sort of week, as NUS weeks are wont to be. We learnt about smelly pens, toys, the pros and cons of flipcharts, the inappropriate use of games and we socialised. A lot. I am now very tired and my liver is a little angry with me.

But it's made me all enthusiastic. I want to train lots of people to do lots of things effectively. I don't want people to not know how to do things. I can't wait to get stuck into course rep and councillor training. And I got such a kick out of using all the NSLP buzzwords when we were doing our very own practice training session: ground rules, safe space, accelerated learning, objectives, ice-breakers, co-training ...  the list goes on and on.

We also met lots of people from different places. Quite a few Unions send a group of sabbs and students on the training, which made it pretty different to Communication in Action. They lumped me, Frodo and Emma in the same group for the second two days so that we could learn how to train together (pretty sensible since that's what we'll be doing all year). The main other two Unions in our group were Hull and MEN -- what fun people! We've decided to send Sam to Hull on President Swap. Their president sounds just like Sam: sarcastic and un-PC. And it'll give us an excuse to go see them all again. Oh, and our trainer is part of the sabb team Sam has declared blogging war on. I want to join in.

Those brownies were absolutely fantastic. I used the 99% chocolate from Cocoa Bean in Limerick (mixed with half normal chocolate so it wouldn't be too overpowering) and Green & Blacks' cocoa powder, so it was immensely chocolately. In fact, they brought me so much joy that I think I'll just have to share the recipe. Nigel Slater is a wonderful man.

Oh, and even though Nigel doesn't believe in adding nuts, I added some chopped walnuts. And I tasted, and found that it was good.

A good thing about not being at Electric Picnic is that I have time to go pick blackberries. I think I'm going to go for a stroll up Bangor Mountain to find them. Maybe with some headphones. I'm being very sociable lately, so perhaps it would be good for me to have a little walk by myself.

I do love blackberries. They're probably my favourite fruit, second only to strawberries. I always find it so upsetting that the strawberry and blackberry seasons don't coincide.

Never mind. I'm going to make one of my favourite desserts: blackberry and apple crumble. Which has just reminded me that I forgot to buy apples. Pretty essential part of the dish. I'm going to have to trek back up to Morrison's.

But yes. Crumble. I love it. I love making the crumbly top, mixing the butter into the flour. I love eating the raw crumbly bit. I love picking the blackberries, I love chopping the apples. And it's just so amazingly warming and lovely when it's all baked.

I think I'm also going to make brownies. I bought walnuts and chocolate and stuff. I must find some kind of a recipe thingy. If they last past the end of the day I might even bring them to work with me.

I'm also excited because Shane and Claire have invited me around to their house (three doors down) for dinner. We're going to watch Into The West! I can't wait. I'm going to bring my Taytos and Moros. Maybe even the crumble. I feel dead special, having friends who aren't sabbatical officers.

I'm not at Electric Picnic.

Instead, I'm in my office, spending the ticket price on shoes. Or something. Generally shopping, anyway.

I've managed to get one of those coughs. I like to call them Carolan Specials. The deep, deep rattling sort of cough which apparently makes me sound like a man.

I've had it for a week or so, but I finally got around to going to the doctor on Thursday. He gave me antibiotics and this crazy cough suppressant which is supposed to help open my airways, supplementing my inhalers cos I was having difficulty holding my breath.

Crazy stuff. I took my antibiotic, this medicine and a Lemsip over lunch in Varsity, and started to shake. So I had a look at the side-effects. They also included mood swings. I went from being quite cheery and hyper to sitting in my office crying. It was really quite ridiculous. I felt quite out of it all day, just a little bit floaty.

So I don't really like that medicine. It did help my cough, but it made me feel far too weird. And I decided that it would be stupid spending the weekend at a festival in the rain. So I nipped over to Dun Laoghaire yesterday and sold my ticket. Never mind, never mind. I'm sad I'm missing it, but I really don't think I'd have enjoyed myself properly. Far too tired.

So Glyn didn't win Big Brother.

This is the first year I've really watched it properly. Last year I watched some of it because I was tech op-ing for The Full Score, and only had to press about three buttons in two hours, so I needed some mindless TV to watch. But I didn't really care who won.

This year, though, we had our very own Glyn to cheer for. I know there's lots of cynics (or synics if you're Spencer) out there, but I think it's going to be quite fun having a celebrity in our SU (and University). He seems like a nice boy, and I'd imagine he'll help raise the profile of UMCB considerably this year, which will be nice.

I do think we'll have to watch out for him a little this year though. The SU should be a safe space for any student. He shouldn't feel hassled by anyone in our building and venues. And if any paparazzi can be bothered coming all the way to Bangor, we'll need to keep them out of the SU.

Anyway, the final was an excuse for a nice party chez Carolan. We drank punch out of martini glasses and harvey wallbangers out of any glasses we could find. We had pizza and crisps and dips. And now I'm feeling tired. It's quarter to four and I'm still in my pyjamas. Oh well, it's Saturday, it's raining outside, there's no real reason to get dressed just yet.

And so my extended stint as Acting President comes to an end. For now, at least. And I'm glad.

Not that there were any major crises or anything. I just have far too much to do to be dealing with random people visiting to talk about recycling. That's two different recycling agencies visiting in one week. Perhaps I need another title change: Communications, Societies and Recycling Officer.

I've also spent a large amount of time choosing LogoBugs to order for our goodie bags. I'm not sure that I've ordered 2,500 of anything before; it's startling how much of a difference 1p extra per LogoBug makes. £25, in fact (what a surprise).

And I still haven't finished the Societies Handbook. Has ANYONE got a list of what the new mileage prices are?

One of the reasons I'm really rather excited about the NUS national demo at the end of October is that they're hoping to hold it inside the Westminster protest exclusion zone. Not outside the one-kilometre (look at you Brits going all European!) exclusion zone. Actually there.

How, how, HOW can the British government get away with the Serious Organised Crime and Police Act 2005 (SOCPA)? Why aren't people bashing down the doors of parliament, demanding the right to freedom of peaceful assembly and association as laid down in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights?

Oh yeah, because they're not allowed to anymore.

So anyone planning to protest in this designated area (such as the NUS) must let the police know at least six days in advance. The police get to decide whether the protest can go ahead or not, and can impose all sorts of conditions from when it takes place to how many people may take part, how many placards and banners can be used, how big they are, and how loud the protestors may be.

According to the People in Common website,

Technically the demonstration must be allowed to go ahead. But if the conditions imposed are too strict, then you might as well not be having a demonstration at all -- a silent protest in a backstreet with no placards and only three participants is useless ... Seventeen people have so far been arrested under the legislation, six of whom were doing nothing more offensive than having a picnic on Parliament Square. Sixteen have been charged with participating in unauthorised demonstrations. ... The government's main aim with this legislation was probably to get rid of Brian Haw, who has been carrying on a one-man demonstration on Parliament Square for the last 4 years.

If London wasn't so far away, I'd be there every week, taking part in the Commons Tea Party (read about it on the People in Common website). Every Sunday a group of people gather to hold a tea party/picnic in Parliament Square. Some of them carry blank placards, others are happy just to assemble. Some of these people get arrested (one simply for carrying a copy of Vanity Fair with an article about SOCPA in it). But they do it anyway.

So on the day of the NUS demo, I'm going to take a little time out from marching and stop for a picnic. Perhaps I'll even bring a blank placard.

If you're feeling incensed, go sign up to this guy's pledge. He's trying to get 6000 people to sign up to make a nice human chain around the Westminster exclusion zone. I know it's only a small gesture, but a nice one.

I've been thinking about Quakerism a bit today because I've decided to go to Young Friends General Meeting instead of to the SRA nominations party, being hosted by our very own Storm FM. Which was a difficult decision to make, but I thought it's about time I went and topped up my moral drinking glass.

So I was looking for a copy of the Advice and Queries on the internet, when I came across a couple of Quaker blogs. And I like blogs, so I read them. One of them linked to another, to this fantastic post (November 15 2005) which attempts to explain the "non-negotiable central tenets common to all Quakers". What a difficult thing to do! So I read with interest. It's quite good, actually, despite her being an American Quaker (they're often pretty different from British and Irish Quakers).

In other news, I annoyed the Bangor branch of the UNA last night. Oh well.

I'd just like to say that I'm a genius. An absolute genius.

See I came up with this marvellous plan. I can't remember if I blogged about it, but essentially the plan is to make the new SU building quite tall, and then build a bridge thingy connecting the SU to Main Arts. Absolutely EVERYONE would enter the SU to use our lift rather than walk up the hill. We'd get thousands of people milling through the building every day.

I told Sam. Who mocked me.

But can you guess what Estates are seriously considering doing? Yep, building a bridge thingy connecting the SU to Main Arts.

I should be earning money from my genius. The University should hire me as a consultant. I'm afraid I won't be able to post any more bright ideas here in case anyone nicks them before I have the chance to sell them to people. Sorry about that.

I know this is really cruel, but go have a look. The genius really lies in Miguel's wonderful grasp of English evident from the magnificent captions.

I've just been to my first Bangor peace vigil.

Disappointing. Very disappointing.

I turned up just about on time, and spent about ten minutes trying to get my candle to light and stay alight. The guy next to me helped out; he was the only person who spoke to me throughout the entire event. The others clearly all knew each other; you'd think they'd make some effort to integrate the newbie.

After about fifteen minutes of people standing around and young people cartwheeling (and me standing there feeling awkward and wondering how I could sneak away un-noticed), some people started arranging us into various formations so they could take photos. That went on for perhaps another ten minutes, with much conversation about whether or not the flash would work (it was a digital camera, they could have just looked at the screen).

Eventually a couple of people gave short little speeches about how terrible Israel is, and how awful fixed-term ceasefires are. All very noble. Then we had a couple of minutes' silence.

And that was it.

I don't really know what I was expecting, but it didn't seem very hardcore. I've already had an hour's silence today. I could have done much more of that. And maybe some more rallying speeches with promises of bold action, rather than vague talk of having a meeting to arrange a meeting.

Apart from anything else, I felt really left out becaues I brushed my hair today.

It's just so frustrating how emasculated lefties are. I desperately want to be an active leftie, using my powers for good and whatnot, but when everyone else is wandering around in hemp clothing getting bogged down with major issues such as whether the meeting venue serves fair trade coffee, it's hard to believe we're ever going to make a difference. That's why I like the Lib Dem society in the SU: they actually do things, and they turn up to events in very smart clothing (did anyone see how wonderfully smart their outfits were at the Societies Awards?). We just need to replicate their success on a larger scale.

I've just met the happiest man in the world.

His happiness is overwhelmingly infectious, so I'm feeling quite joyous myself now. It's impossible to resist feeling enthusiastic and marvellous about everything when someone's grinning so happily.

He seems to be quite a spiritual man, and every day he starts the day by saying "Please God, if it's alright by you, can I be really happy today?" Then he goes around praying for everyone else to be happy too. What a nice thing to do!

I like meeting people like that. People who really inspire you to be nicer to the world, to want to make everyone in it happy. It's not as though he's had everything go well for himself; he's learnt this approach to the world at AA meetings. It's just so nice to see that happiness really does come from within.

I haven't been to Quaker Meeting in Bangor for ages, so it was good to go and meet lots of interesting people. There was a woman who's been on a Peace & Reconciliation educational tour in Ireland all week, a man who's going to send me information on cults (which I'm quite grateful for: it's certainly something we need to watch out for in the SU) and various people who I'd spoken to on previous visits.

Today is a nice day so far. I'm going to spend the afternoon hanging around with me, playing piano, reading, doing nice quiet things. Then Sam and I are going to go cha-cha at the Lets Go Latin class in the gym. And then Spencer (who is returning to Bangor today) is going to cook us a meal. What a great day.

I have a National Insurance number! I feel so accepted.

Just a little update.

Yesterday I got a letter addressed to Mr G Goggin.

I did speak to the lady who sent it on the phone, so you'd think she'd get my gender right at least.

But no.

This work thing is tiring. My working week has rocketed from 2 lectures to 35 hours per week. And I've just spent about an hour trying to order magazines for the Amnesty Society, spelling out my names countless times.

Me: "C - A - R - O - L - A - N"

Stupid person: "C - A - R ..."

Me: "O - L - A - N"

Stupid person: "O ... wait .. C - A - R - O - L ..."

Me: "A - N"

Stupid person: "Say all that again?"

AGH! Then they get confused with the number of gs in my surname:

"Hang on, G - O - G - T ..."

Saturday morning, sitting in my house listening to OK Go (thanks Ian -- everyone else, go click on the link to the OK Go video on Ian's blog, it's wonderful). I've had a lovely morning so far. Had breakfast and a long chat with Emma Gascoigne, in Bangor for the day to do her weekly radio show on Coast (which has just been expanded to a FIVE HOUR show -- go Emma!). Then the Castleconnell Ladies rang me, so I had a nice chat with them too.

Last night's social was quite wonderful. Broad beach in Rhosneigr, barbecues, lots of food, Cava, Bucks Fizz and a giant sandcastle. A very well-defended giant sandcastle, with lots of towers protecting it from the sea, and several layers of walls, moats and turrets surrounding the keep. And a cafe, interpretive centre and disabled access, courtesy of Sam 'National Trust' Burnett. It was beautiful. Until the boys started throwing rocks at it. So us girls decided to spoil their fun and jump on the castle. That was also fun.

I also met a dog. Chris and I had just started building the castle when a very hyper puppy (perhaps a black retreiver, although it seemed a little thin) came along and jumped all over it, dug it up and ran off with my jumper. Good thing Pippa and Goldie have a similar sense of humour. The grumpy man on the beach who got annoyed with Goldie for dripping on him would have been most displeased. But he was a sweet dog. Anyway, all castles have to be knocked down and rebuilt at least once. It's the rules of castles.

Chez Goggin, we celebrate major occasions with food. Graduation is a pretty major (albeit not very exciting) occasion, so Mum, Dad and Gran took me to Bodysgallen Hall. Goldie and Pippa stayed here, but shh, don't tell my landlady.

Bodysgallen is a fantastic hotel near Llandudno. Its website tells me it's believed to have 13th century origins, but the main part of the house was built in the 17th century and is Grade 1 listed. It has a wonderful garden, part formal terraces, part informal rock gardens. And the trees have been beautifully shaped (while appearing completely natural) so that the castle in Conwy is framed between the trees when you look down the garden from the hotel.

We were shown into the bar when we arrived. I had a lovely refreshing drink called .. agh I can't remember, even though Mum spelt it for me. Anyway, it was lovely. Dad was impressed by the range of beer, although when he asked what beer they had he was offered Carling, Stella or Budweiser (pretty poor). But when he stood up to examine the spirit cabinet, he spotted some Old Speckled Hen. Odd, concealing good beer and offering rubbish.

We initially had the second dining room to ourselves; a little daunting, with three people ready to pounce on our water glasses and bread plates every time they emptied. We had a bottle of champagne, mostly between me and Dad (Mum was driving and Gran doesn't drink). House champagne! What a concept! Imagine champagne being such a frequent tipple that you offer house bottles! I had one of the nicest soups I've ever eaten to start: a beautifully frothy celeriac and wild mushroom soup. I could have sat there all night drinking buckets of it. My cod main course was also delicious with this WONDERFUL truffle potato thingy, fresh peas and bacon diced really finely. Gran's lamb came with this cute little baby shepherd's pie in pastry. Looked lovely.

The desserts .. oh I love dessert (and not desert, as I see they sell in The Harp). I had a chocolate tart thingy with Horlicks ice-cream. MmmmmMMMmmm. The chocolate part of it was like the most perfect brownie you could ever imagine, fresh out of the oven. But not too hot. Just lovely. Mum had a selection of sorbets (I love sorbet so much and have just bought a tub of mango sorbet, hooray!), and Dad had a selection from an extremely well-stocked cheese tray. He was particularly delighted to find that the cheese was at room-temperature: there's nothing worse than cold cheese. It's so flavourless compared to nice warm cheese.

Then we had our tea and coffee on the terrace (where else, darling?). They had those little crystals of sugar. I haven't seen them for years; I used to eat them when I was little. So I ate a couple for old time's sake.

Delicious all round, really. I could quite happily live there, I think. Can I have one of these, please?

Bodysgallen "25th Anniversary Heritage" Break 2006/2007
(excluding Bank Holidays and Bank Holiday weekends)

A five night break, with rates charged per person, inclusive of overnight accommodation, early morning tea, cooked breakfast, table d’hote dinner, full use of the Bodysgallen Spa, service and VAT, and admission into two local historic places of interest. There will also be a chilled bottle of champagne placed in your room to welcome you on arrival.Single room £665.00 per person

Broadband! In my house!

My 100th blog post will probably appear later today. Bated breath all round, I know.

P.S. I graduated yesterday. It was hot.

Climbed Snowdon on Saturday with Sam. It was quite difficult. Very hot. Very .. rocky. And steep. And a long way. How do these little kids bound up so easily? We chose the miner's path over the pig path: a wise decision, since it brought us past lots of nice refreshing lakes with tasty water. There's a very steep ascent at the end though.

Mum, Dad and Gran arrived yesterday with Goldie and Pippa. I met them in Holyhead and went to Rhosneigr. Very crowded, unsurprisingly. I was impressed with the range of watersports going on though: several types of sailing boat, several types of canoe and a plethora of speedboats. Pippa has decided that she likes beaches. Initially upset by the lack of stones in the water, she found that burying and digging stones in sand was much more fun. Goldie upset a man lying near by by dripping on him. Oh well.

A visit to the gardens in Plas Newydd followed. I like Plas Newydd. I went there with the Abbey Road Centre last year. We didn't go into the house yesterday (they don't accept payment in euros and it was too hot to want to be inside anyway), just strolled happily around the garden. What a lovely place.

Pippa and Goldie were very excited about my house. Good thing, too, since we left them there while we went to Wetherspoons. Which Dad was very excited about. I'm not seeing them at all today (I have to work and they're in Bala), but we'll continue our adventures tomorrow.

Just to catch up on what's trendy these days. Ones I've read in bold:

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee, The Bible by God and friends, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy by JRR Tolkien (well, two and a bit), 1984 by George Orwell, A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, All Quiet on the Western Front by E M Remarque, His Dark Materials Trilogy by Phillip Pullman (I've read one but that's not enough), Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, The Lord of the Flies by William Golding, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon, Tess of the d'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy, Winnie the Pooh by AA Milne, Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Graham,
Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell, Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, The Prophet by Khalil Gibran, David Copperfield by Charles Dickens, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov, Life of Pi by Yann Martel, Middlemarch by George Eliot, The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess, A Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzenhitsyn.


Right, that's that done. What else is trendy to talk about on one's blog? I should probably give you a youtube link but I'm afraid I only look at what my dear brother tells me to look at.

I've fallen horribly, horribly behind. It's going to take me quite a while to catch up. I still haven't got a working internet connection in my house, despite spending over an hour on the phone to BT (turns out the first woman I talked to was wrong when she said I had a broadband account with them) and finally finding the username and password. Looking forward to spending another hour talking to Madasafish tonight. Woohoo!

Since I last blogged I've moved into my new house (wonderful, except for the rats and heroin addicts), started my new job (wonderful, except for the rats and heroin addicts) and been on NUS training in Nant Gwrtheyrn, a crazy little hidden mining village thingy about an hour from here.

I've figured out my societies and standing committees budget for the year (we need more money), [Sam has just fallen off his chair] worked on our course reps system (henceforth known as Shout) and learnt to offer tissues in Welsh.

At home, my mum has finished her job and is having a nice relaxing time. She's just been to London to visit the queen, and to bring my brother to meet the Quakers he's travelling to America with. He's on his way to America right now. Or maybe he's even there, who knows? He'll be spending the next month there. Dad has been skilfully navigating the Shannon-Erne Waterway with the Knocknagow, getting our 4-foot deep boat past a 3-foot deep lock entry thingy. Goldie has been rolling in mud and Pippa has presumably been eating his ears.

And now I have to go to a Trading meeting thingy, so I'm going. Byyeee.

Poor Goldie had his hair cut today. Apparently he got hot spot because he was too hot in the warm weather lately, so he needed a bit of a haircut. He doesn't seem to have enjoyed the experience at all: he was quaking when we came to collect him, and couldn't leave quick enough. But he does look lovely. And dogs don't hold grudges. He's wandering around perfectly happily now.

We'd never taken a dog to be groomed before, and had sort of vaguely expected that it might take an hour. But it takes about four hours, and you don't stay and look after the dog. So, not being there, I can't say for certain how well Goldie was treated. But I could certainly see the difference between the groomer's and the vet. The vet made a fuss of Goldie as soon as he got there, instantly making him relax and feel pretty happy. Even when she shaved a small patch of his fur, which he didn't much like, she reassured him so he was wagging his tail again merrily within seconds. The groomer didn't seem to make much of an effort to befriend Goldie while we were there. Goldie's a sociable kind of dog, and he finds things much less upsetting if he's being reassured, patted, admired. The groomer told us Goldie kept lying down, saying that was only to be expected in old dogs. But we know Goldie: if he doesn't like what's going on he'll refuse to take part by lying down.

Anyway, he looks lovely and he's been spoilt rotten since he got home, so he's happy again now. And Pippa got our undivided attention for several hours, so she's happy too.

And now Dad's cooking a big going-away meal, which I'm very much looking forward to (see his blog for details). So I'm going to go be sociable. Oh and I had a nice nap again this afternoon.

Build Portmeirion in Lego.

I had a bad dream last night. I dreamt that I ran the most rubbish Welcome Week ever. It was awful! I spent the whole thing rushing around trying to carry people's bags and didn't organise any events or anything.

In fairness, the University made it difficult for me by allowing 12-year-olds be first years. They need much more minding than 18-year-olds. I also probably shouldn't have tried to be a peer guide for every single first year. Realistic targets are key, I feel.

So I rang Schuh today to arrange the return of my wellies. Galway's about two hours' drive from Limerick, so there's no chance of me being able to visit the shop in person before returning to Wales. But as we all know, when there's a fault with a product, it is the shop's responsibility to look after the customer and rectify the problem. My receipt was stapled into one of those fancy little booklet things, so I had a little read of their 'service policy' before phoning, to see if it said anything about returning items by post. It didn't, so I presumed that wouldn't be a problem.

I rang the Galway branch. I was told that they don't normally accept returns except in person, but gave my phone number so the lady could check with the manager. She rang back to confirm that, explaining that they needed to see the shoes before they could offer me a replacement or refund. I pointed out that they would be able to see them, because I'd be sending the shoes to them. Then she said the manager would need to talk to me about them. Couldn't he do it over the phone?

Anyway, I was getting nowhere, so I rang Schuh Customer Services (01506 468 733). The man seemed more concerned about whether my shoes were broken enough to warrant a replacement, which I thought was a pretty futile concern since we were speaking over the phone, so I ignored that. But he said it was Schuh policy not to allow postal returns to shops (funny it wasn't mentioned in the service policy) because I'd need to sign something, and only Head Office could override that. He said I was welcome to send them to Head Office instead, and they might even cover my postage costs.

Instead, I have opted to call into Schuh in Dublin on my way back to Wales. I persuaded the customer service man to reserve a new pair in my size for me, so there's no chance of them not being in stock.

I'm quite annoyed though. That was ultimately the most convenient option for me (returning to Head Office would probably take weeks, whereas I was hoping Galway could get the shoes back by Friday), but it's still a complete nuisance. And why such arbitary rules on returning items? Couldn't they just forge my signature or something? I really felt they weren't doing anything at all to make life easier for me. The girl in Galway apologised a little, but the manager didn't and neither did the customer service guy. I'm not going to buy shoes from them again.

Oh I don't know why I'm so annoyed. I just think that when they've sold me a product that's so clearly faulty (shoes shouldn't break after half a day of wearing them) they should be making more of an effort to put it right. Anyway, I feel better having ranted.

I have returned from a lovely weekend of visiting relies with my brother. We spent Friday with Gran in Dublin: she fed us and bought us books and was delighted when I chose a pattern and some wool for a jumper which will keep her occupied for a couple of days in the winter (she's a very fast knitter). She worried about Ian not eating a balanced diet, and told him he should get an engineering degree and a job in the civil service because they have very good pension schemes (he's 17). We had such a lovely relaxing day, reading books in the sunshine and chatting away. Oh and looking at her photos of Italy; I'm so jealous.

On Saturday we headed north, meeting The Uncle Pat in Newry. We were talking directly to Niamh and Pat's massive new mansion, all beautifully kitted out with Ikea furniture (I can't wait to go there on Sunday!). It's a zillion times bigger than it was before (no exaggeration).

Niamh and Pat are probably my most left-wing relatives, so we had loads of fun sorting out the world's problems over dinner each day, debating (for example) whether or not it's a good idea to go build houses in Indonesia or to force Fair Trade suppliers to set aside 10% of their land for growing food for themselves. So they think Ian should study some kind of -ology, not engineering.

I may have overdosed on Jane Austen this week. I read and watched Pride and Prejudice, read all of Emma and am halfway through Persuasion (should be done by tomorrow). If I don't stop soon I'm in danger of speaking and writing in an 18th century style, and of marrying the first man to ask me if he had any chance of ever succeeding in winning my hand, a la Messrs Darcy and Knightley. I shouldn't be at all surprised if the same thing happens with Captain Wentworth. I'm not sure which heroine I like the most yet. Possibly Elizabeth Bennett, but Emma isn't quite so conceited by the end of the book, and Anne is so charmingly understated. Oh I just don't know.

Oh and I visited the Sonic Arts Research Centre (SARC) in Queens. I'm so very impressed with it and the brand spanking new SU building (nearing completion) that I have half a mind to go do an MA in Music Technology in Queens instead of Radio Production elsewhere. I'm trying to persuade Ian to study there too (BSc) but he's got his heart set on Huddersfield so far.

The best thing to do wellie-wise is just to go to the Schuh website, choose 'Kickers - f' from the drop-down brand menu, and they're the 'Kickers Curly London' ones. Except I'm a bit annoyed with them because one of the seams is starting to come undone ALREADY. Which makes them not waterproof. So I'm going to send them back to Schuh and demand a new pair. I still love them though.

My wellies.

One more thing. Having trouble understanding the Bible? See it explained in Lego.

Today we went to Galway (so Ian could go to a back specialist) and I got NEW WELLIES! They're super-cool. I'll take a picture of them next week so I can show everyone. Oh they're so cool. They're quite soft, so you can wear them like normal shoes all the time.

I also found my new favourite brand of shoes. It's quite possible that I'll never buy shoes from anyone else ever again. And now that I've found a website that sells them, I may develop a serious shoe-buying problem. Go look at LetsBuyShoes.com and click on 'Irregular Choice'. Oh they're just so beautiful! I nearly bought a pair today, but they weren't available in my size.

Goldie had to go to the vet yesterday because he developed something called 'hot spot' (I think). It's basically a nasty cut-like infection thingy under his left ear which is apparently quite common in long-haired dogs in hot weather. Luckily, Ian spotted it quite early so it won't take too long to heal. But Goldie was scratching it and reopening the wounds, so he's wearing one of those big plastic collars. When he stands in long grass he looks just like a delicate flower, but he's not impressed. So we got him some yummy sweets today and now he's feeling happier. He just persuaded me to hand-feed him his dogfood. Entirely unnecessary, since he managed to eat it on his own just fine yesterday, but today he was pretending he couldn't, and barking at the bowl, so I fed him. If he had a little finger he'd have me wrapped around it. Poor Pippa was most distressed at being left out, so I fed her some too.

Going to Dublin tomorrow to visit Gran, then to Northern Ireland on Saturday to visit aunt and uncle. Back Monday, stopping by the Sonic Arts Research Centre in Queens to persuade Ian that that's where he wants to study. And also because I want to snoop around. It sounds amazingly cool.

Sam, what kind of bags is it you want? Some kind of special bags or just normal bags?

Had a nice girly evening last night. Went to Hickey's (a pub in the village) to meet the Castleconnell Crew: Maeve, Maebh, Sinead, Aisling and Triona. Maebh works in Hickey's these days so wasn't too impressed with lurking there on her night off. So we went to Maebh's house (very swanky) and watched Pride & Prejudice while drinking peach schnapps and orange juice. It was so very girly. And sort of cultured too. More girly evenings are in order, I think.

The next film evening I have lined up is my Into The West evening with Shane and Steve when I get back to Bangor. Into The West is an atrocious Irish film, probably about 15 years old by now, which makes it just the right age for us to be properly nostalgic about it. I was sent home with orders to buy Taytos (the best crisps in the world, made all the more pertinent by one of the main characters in the film being called Tayto), Moros (no, they're NOT the same as Boost bars) and red lemonade. Or maybe Club Orange. But I think red lemonade is better. It's going to be a proper little Irish evening.

Today was disappointing. I went into town to get some lovely shoes I saw when I was shopping for heels last time I was home. But they only had one pair left, and they weren't in my size. I'm so incredibly disappointed. They're wonderful little shoes: white, with multi-coloured sequin-type things on. Okay, that makes them sound hideous, but they really are lovely. Even Ian liked them. Galway had better have some exciting shoes to sell me or I'll stamp my feet. OH! I've just remembered there's a branch of Schuh in Galway. So I'll probably find some nice shoes after all. Hooray hooray hooray!

I went to Monthly Meeting today for the first time in ages. In fact, I haven't been to Meeting in Limerick at all for ages. There were so many people there I didn't know: very odd. In fact, Limerick Preparative Meeting has expanded so much that there was discussion at MM about letting Limerick be a Monthly Meeting (this is all Quaker lingo).

Anyway, one of the Waterford Quakers ministered about the swarms of American troops one encounters when passing through Shannon Airport. And I'd spoken to two other people in the room about this before. Which got me thinking about the phenomenon.

Ireland is supposed to be neutral. But not in the way, say, Sweden is. It's more that we tend to avoid participating in conflict. A mechanism called the 'triple lock', which consists of .. ugh .. is it the Dáil, the Seanad and the UN Security Council .. could be wrong about the Seanad. Anyway, all three of those institutions have to agree to go to war before we can go to war. As a result, Ireland has not been in a war since the Civil War ended in 1922.

But that hasn't stopped Ireland getting involved in conflict. 'Peace keeping' forces (i.e. people trained to kill other people) have been sent to Lebanon, East Timor and Liberia. And, the bit that's irking me today, we allow the US military to use Shannon Airport as a stopover on their way to Iraq.

Now there is some unofficial precedent here. During World War II, for example, British planes were allowed to use our airspace. Should they accidentally land in Ireland, they were sent home. But German soldiers who ended up here were interred. This was partly because British servicemen could claim to be on other business in Ireland and get away with it, but it was pretty unlikely that Germans who ended up in Ireland were just there to check the border was secure or something.

Wikipedia has more to say on this:
While most neutral states do not allow any foreign military within their territory, Ireland has a long history of allowing military aircraft of various nations to refuel at Shannon Airport. Under the Air Navigation (Foreign Military Aircraft) Order, 1952, the Minister for Foreign Affairs, exceptionally, could to grant permission to foreign military aircraft to overfly or land in the State. Confirmation was required that the aircraft in question be unarmed, carry no arms, ammunition or explosives and that the flights in question would not form part of military exercises or operations. In September 2001 these conditions were "waived in respect of aircraft operating in pursuit of the implementation of the Security Council Resolution 1368" (Minister for Foreign Affairs, Dail Debate 17 December 2002). Irish governments have always said that allowing aircraft to use Irish soil does not constitute participation in any particular conflict and is compatible with a neutral stance, instancing the transit of German troops between Finland and Norway through neutral Swedish territory during World War II.

There's been quite a bit of debate on this in Ireland. A peace camp was set up outside Shannon, where protesters could monitor the to-ing and fro-ing of American planes, until it dissolved in a viscous stew of in-fighting and legal challenges from the State over who owned the land they were camping on. In the height of the campaign fervour during the official Iraq war (is it really over?), it was the main issue campaigners yelled about. One of the chants widely used at the time went:

"No guns, no blood for oil
No U.S. military on our soil"

But US troops have continued to land in Shannon. And until I used the airport last September I didn't realise just how many troops there were going through the airport each day. Swarms of them, all in their khaki uniforms. I found it really disconcerting. They were everywhere. I didn't think it'd make me feel so odd, but it really did. I didn't want them anywhere near me but they were everywhere. The other Quakers I spoke to felt the same. Now I know we probably over-reacted, being the crazy pacifists we are, but it was still incredibly odd.

Last week one of the cleaning staff working in the Airport spotted a passenger in shackles on one of the planes and reported it. While the government allows US planes, transporting prisoners is strictly forbidden. It has been smoothed over as a blip in an otherwise happy arrangement, but how many other prisoners have passed through, not spotted by airport staff?

I don't like this namby-pampy approach to neutrality. In fact, I'm not even sure that neutrality is a good word. Do we want to just sit back, saying we don't want to get involved? I'd like to see Ireland taking an active pacifist stance. We should be actively campaigning for peaceful resolutions to conflicts, not merely not sending troops to somewhere like Iraq (fat lot of good our teeny army'd be anyway). Military action is the lazy way out. I firmly believe that peaceful resolution is always possible. People dismiss me as being naive and idealistic, but I'd much rather strive towards achieving my ideals than accept the status quo.

Sorry for writing such long posts.

My favourite joke this weekend:

David Hasselhoff is feeling a bit worried about his image. He's noticed people aren't really taking him seriously anymore. He thinks perhaps it's time for an image change. So he phones his manager.

"From now on, I want everyone to call me 'The Hoff'," says Mr Hasselhoff.

"Sure", says the manager. "No Hassel".

Hahahahaha.

And here's one I got in exchange (don't you love swapping jokes?):

Why does Cinderella hang around the Kodak factory the whole time?

Because one day her prints will come.

Oh my feet hurt so much. My muscles ache, and I'm sunburnt. But I've been having fun.

On Thursday I went water-skiing for the first time. It was so much fun, way more fun than I expected. And much easier too. I fell over on my first attempt, having tried to stand up too quickly. The second time I managed to stay up, but didn't stay up for long because I'd straightened my arms too quickly.

But after that I didn't fall over at all. I learnt how to swerve in and out of the boat's wake, how to lift on foot out of the water, how to take one hand off the tow-y thing. Apparently the only thing left to learn on two skis is how to jump. Andy says he'll take me wake-boarding over the summer. He says it's even better fun.

It's incredibly tiring though. That was two days ago and my arms and legs are still aching. You couldn't do it for long.

Waterskiing took longer than expected. It's run by two lovely people from a very nice steel boat called Tubal above the bridge in Portumna. They're chatty, and we ended up sitting chatting while the man finished his lunch (so he could take us back to the harbour). They're so nice, you couldn't be nervous around them.

Anyway, yes, it took longer than expected. We had to dash home so I could leap on a bus to Dublin. I showered in double-quick time while Ian ironed my dress and Dad cooked me a steak and mushroom sandwich. Mmmmm. It turned out that the rush was somewhat unnecessary, since I had to wait for twenty minutes when we got to the bus stop. But one never can tell with Bus Eireann. One never can tell.

I stayed with my aunt and uncle in Rathmines on Thursday night. We had a lovely summery salad, bread and cheese meal while we watched the Sweden vs Paraguay match. I slept soundly, but woke up with aching muscles. Time for Bloomsday celebrations!

I thought a link to the Wikipedia article on Bloomsday would save me having to explain what it is, but clearly I was mistaken. So I'm not quite sure where to begin.

Erm. So James Joyce, right? Wrote Ulysses. Set in Dublin on June 16th, 1904. The day he met his future wife, Nora. The book is based on Homer's Odyssey, with each chapter corresponding to an episode in the Odyssey. Each chapter is also one hour in the main characters' (Stephen Dedalus, also found in A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and Leopold Bloom) day. Each chapter is also written in a different style (or technique), for example first person narration or stream-of-consciousness, and (according to Linati and Gilbert, who proposed differing thematic correlations) focuses on a colour and an organ. And perhaps other things, but I can't remember. For example, Chapter 11 corresponds to the tale of the Sirens in Homer's Odyssey, with Bloom watching two attractive barmaids while dining at the Ormonde hotel in a chapter full of people singing and musical references.

So every June 16th (since sometime in the 1950s) 'Bloomsday' is celebrated in Dublin. People roughly follow the book's action, with noted events including eating "the inner organs of beasts and fowls" for breakfast:

Mr Leopold Bloom ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls. He liked thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liver slices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencod’s roes. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine. (Ulysses)

Accordingly, I made my way to Sandycove/Glasthule yesterday to have this yummy breakfast. But I got a bit muddled, and thought I was going to Sandymount (Bloom thinks smutty thoughts on the beach in Sandymount later in the day). So I got a bus to Sandymount and walked to the nearest Martello tower. But it wasn't the one. So I kept walking south. And then I realised that the Martello tower would have to be near the Forty Foot, which is near Dun Laoghaire, which is a long walk from Sandymount. And then John sent me a text saying he'd meet me at the DART station in Sandycove. And I realised I was in the wrong place (thankfully I had nearly two hours to kill between stepping off my bus and meeting John). So I asked some women if I was heading the right direction for the Sandycove DART station, and they said I was but there was no way I'd manage to walk it. How right they were. I got on a DART in Booterstown instead, and it was about five stops to Sandycove. I'm glad I stopped to ask.

Anyway, I made it to Glasthule in plenty of time. People in Edwardian costumes sporting boaters were everywhere. It was all quite jolly. So we had the 'Joyce Special' in Juggy's Well. It was surprisingly tasty. There was a woman painting people's faces. I really wanted a moustache, but I was too afraid to ask for one. We wandered around Glasthule for a while, waiting for John's friend Dorothea. We tried to get breakfast for her, but it was going to cost €18 and consist of four courses which seemed a little excessive. So she popped into Caviston's for some gorgonzola and bread, a little ahead of time but a sensible choice.

We strolled along to the Martello Tower (the right one this time) and debated whether or not to go inside. It cost €6 and we weren't entirely convinced it was worthwhile. We flipped a coin which told us to go in, but we still weren't convinced, so we went and sat on some rocks instead. That was lovely, probably the nicest part of the day. The rocks were covered in very sharp barnacles, so we didn't clamber too much, but when we were leaving I persuaded John to climb back the long way over some exciting rocks with me. It was good. Since we didn't think we'd fit in a trip to Sandymount to think smutty thoughts, we thought we could do it there and then. In the good book, Bloom is fantasising about a girl he sees on the beach but is shocked when she stands up to leave, revealing that she is a cripple. So you can imagine our surprise when a man arrived to sit on the rocks and proceeded to take off his leg. What a co-inky-dink.

We got a DART back into town, where we popped into Trinity so Dorothea could return a book to the library. We sat on the green waiting for her, and also Claire (my friend from school who has been travelling the world), Stephen (a friend of mine from years ago who John still sees a lot [as an aside, it was his birthday, hence the name 'Stephen' and the middle name 'Stanislaus']) and John's friend Michio [sp?] and her friend Emily.

Suitably bolstered, our merry band proceeded to Davy Byrne's for a gorgonzola sandwich and a glass of burgundy. Unsurprisingly, it was packed, so we got some nice bread in M&S and some nice gorgonzola in a cheese 'emporium' around the corner (the shopkeeper asked us if it was a literary tribute). We had our glass of burgundy in Davy Byrne's, then traipsed to St Stephen's Green to eat our bread and cheese. Not a Joycean destination, but there we are.

That was pretty much the end of our Joycean tribute. We didn't come across people doing readings, unfortunately, but I got the feeling that the day was somewhat subdued because so many scholars were rising and following Charlie's funeral cortege. Or perhaps not. I don't know, I don't have another Bloomsday to compare it to. We went to Kristen's new apartment for a little while, then I headed to Busaras (via Lush to get Mum some bath ballistics to get her through her last two weeks of work) to get a bus home.

Blistered feet, sunburn from sitting on the rocks by the sea, and aching limbs from waterskiing. But it was fun.

Charles Haughey died today. Taoiseach for three terms, he was one of the most corrupt Irish politicians ever. For example, the Moriarty tribunal found he received £8million in personal donations over 18 years. Money raised for Brian Lenihan, a former government minister and supposed friend of Charlie Boy, and intended to pay for his liver transplant, instead mysteriously ended up in Charlie's bank account and was spent on fancy Charvet shirts. He also managed to have a 27-year affair with gossip columnist Terry Keane, who announced the affair in 1999 on one of Ireland's most popular TV shows, The Late Late Show. A bit shocking for Charlie's poor family. He still owes shedloads of tax. No doubt his estate will settle the bill by selling his private island.

As you can probably tell, I'm not the biggest fan of Charlie. But there have only been 10 Taoisigh in the entire history of the state, so clearly he's quite an important figure in Irish politics.

But WHY do they have to bury him on Bloomsday?

Bloomsday at the Joyce Centre 2006

Owing to the death of former Taoiseach Charles J Haughey, and the state funeral on Friday 16th June, all Bloomsday events at the James Joyce Centre, 35 North Great George's Street, Dublin 1 have been cancelled as a mark of respect. The Board of Directors and the staff of the James Joyce Centre offer their condolences to the family.

Thankfully, the wonderful thing about Bloomsday is that it's not organised by any one organisation. So while it's a shame the James Joyce Centre won't be participating, the other festivities will (hopefully) be going ahead.

It'll be my first Bloomsday, and I'm planning on getting properly involved. Starting the day with a nice offal-based breakfast. Perhaps buying some lemon soap. Maybe a swim in the Forty Foot. Burgundy in Davy Byrne's. And we may even use the state funeral to our advantage, allowing it to fill the role of Dignan's funeral. Although he's not being buried in the same graveyard, so the route will be all wrong.

I still need to find an Edwardian costume.

Today I've decided to travel the world.

I'll get around Europe by picking fruit. I'd like to spend a bit of time in France; I like France. And visit Scandinavia.

Then I'll go do some volunteering in Africa. I'm not sure whether I'd like to do aid work or conservation work. One of them. As long as I get to see elephants. No snakes though. I don't want to see even one snake. Although maybe exposure to them would help me be less scared. I don't like being scared of things.

I think I'll give the Middle East a miss. Although visiting Israel and/or Palestine would be interesting. Just a quick visit. I could get some nice olive oil.

Then over to Asia. I don't know what to do in Asia. I've never really thought about it. I don't know, maybe I could do some rebuilding in Indonesia, although I don't know if they'll still need help rebuilding by the end of 2007. Maybe there'll be a new crisis to help with by then, although I hope not. I can't even decide which countries in Asia I'd like to visit. Vietnam interests me a bit because my cousin is from there and they have nice hats. China would be nice too. Perhaps I could head for Hong Kong and venture inland a bit from there. Perhaps India too, but it's such a big country. I wouldn't know where to start.

Australia and New Zealand next. I'll get a crappy (and illegal) job for a few weeks to top up my travel fund. Australia is only mildly interesting, but New Zealand is supposed to be lovely. I'll go look at something scenic there.

Then across the Pacific to South America. I'll skip Hawaii: I'm only mildly interested. I'll already have done Cuba by then, so I think I'll skip Central America. Rio de Janeiro would be great. I'd kind of like to go to Venezuala too, just because America says it's Bad. Not Colombia, that's a bit scary. Oh and definitely Cusco to see Machu Picchu. My friend Karen (of the party) spent some of her gap year volunteering at Machu Picchu. I'd like to do that.

The only thing I'd still like to see in the USA is Yellowstone Park. But I'll probably give the whole country a miss. They might interrogate me a bit too much if I have Cuba and Venezuala on my passport. Canada'd be nice next. I don't know where to go though. Quebec? Toronto? Vancouver?

My final stop is quite an exciting one. Iceland. I'll go bathe in hot springs and search for Bjork and Sigur Ros. Then back home to earn a load of money and do my MA.

But WHERE am I going to get the money?

WikiTravel is a wonderful resource. Although some of its pages are mildly inaccurate. I got to correct the entry for LlanfairPG which said it was on the train line between Bangor and Chester. I feel useful.

We haven't gone to the boat this week after all. Guess which part is broken? Yes, you guessed it, it's the alternator. It has to be my favourite part of the boat's engine. I suppose it's the constant sense of anticipation and awe, wondering when and how it will stop working next.

Anyway, it's quite alright because we're going to spend the week boating anyway. Yesterday I spent most of the day getting my Europe ship-shape (although I don't think I'll ever succeed, it's just too damn dinghy-shape). It's lovely and shiny clean now. Dad and I also spent quite a while repairing a hole in the prow of the boat. Yep, I can now do fibreglass repairs.

Today we spent several hours strapping the Europe to the roof of the car. We looked so outdoorsy, with our dinghy on the roof of our Subaru Outback. Then we had a nice picnic in the harbour in Kilgarvan. Far too windy to go sailing though. Some people pulled up and launched a Topper, and the parents tried to tell me I was a wimp for not sailing, but the Topper woman got blown into the reeds even though she was in the relatively sheltered bay and had to be towed back in, so I think I made the right choice. I'll sail tomorrow.

This evening we're having a special meal with lamb and champagne and pavlova to celebrate me finishing my degree. Mmmmm. I'm quite hungry actually, having spent most of the day outside. That always makes me hungry.

 Read about Evan's fight for justice. I hate Dublin traffic. Home now though, and relaxing.

Awwww. 

Chris and Nick. I love my housemates. And how cool is the star thingy around Chris's head? 

Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

Degree over. I got my results yesterday: got a first. And, apparently, some class of a prize for my dissertation. I'm a bit hazy on the details, but it's called a School of Music Prize (creative title) and I get £50 but no certificate. I might have to make my own certificate.

It's eight o'clock and I've been awake since five. I just can't sleep when it's this bright outside. I'm planning on sleeping on the ferry though, and on the bus home. I'm quite tired again.

Moved into my new house yesterday. Gangs of people turned up to help me move (thank you!) so it was very quick. If anyone's looking for a man with a van I recommend this Sam person: £10 to move all my stuff in his big white Transit van. After the move we all sat in my new living room having refreshing drinks. I was quite chuffed to find that the only thing my guests could find to criticise about my new house was that there's an electrical socket too close to the sink in the kitchen. It really is gorgeous.

So I have quite a lot to do this morning, but I don't think I'll manage any of it until I've had something to eat. I hope Crumbs will open soon: they do deeeelicious bacon and sausage sandwiches. I'm a little stressed about my Uni email address vanishing .. Sam says this will happen very soon, but I want to keep it! Surely we need a Uni login next year?

Anyway, I'm going to go scavenge some food. Later I'm going to go to Ireland. Both fun things. I'll be spending a week on the boat, so I might slip off the blog radar while I laze in the sun. To keep yourselves amused while I'm gone, go have a look at reasons why Darth Vader is a loser. And other superawesomewow articles.

Bangor is frightfully relaxing when you've nothing to do. I've taken several strolls down the pier since I got back, and even watched TV. Mad. The journey back to Bangor was quite fun. I set off from home at 10:15 on Wednesday morning. Mum dropped me into Limerick to go to the dentist, but first I visited Lyric to drop off a copy of my dissertation. I ended up going for breakfast with the Lunchtime Choice team and sitting in on their production meeting. Liz, the presenter, is starting a blog and has been reading mine in preparation. How flattering!

The trip to the dentist was uneventful. My teeth are very good, which is always nice. Oral hygiene is important. The dentist is lovely. I'm going to marry his son, you know. I've never met him or anything, but we seem to be similar. We're always doing the same thing at the same time. For example, we both chose between studying Music and Theoretical Physics. He went for Theoretical Physics, though.

After the dentist I got the bus to Dublin, where my grandparents and cousin Phelie met me. I don't see my cousins very often, and Phelie and I get along very well, so it was lovely to see him. He had finished his degree the day before (despite being a year older than me: his was a four-year degree), his brother Mikey had finished that day and his mum has almost finished her MA, so there was a nice feeling of completion about the place. I spent the evening chatting to my grandparents (who seemed in good spirits, although Grandpa really isn't very well at all), wandering around the garden and in my cousins' house (they all live on the same piece of land). Phelie's going to Holland next year to play hockey semi-professionally which is quite an adventure, and his dad might be taking up a job in Canada. All change.

Thursday wasn't particularly exciting. I found the ferry journey incredibly frustrating: sunshine and water make the most wonderful combination, and I was itching to be outside, perhaps floating lazily across the Irish Sea in a dinghy. But no. I was trapped in a big ferry-shaped box. I went out onto the tiny cage-like platform at the back for a little bit, but the people I was sharing my table with didn't seem keen on minding my bags for too long so I didn't stay.

It was really weird saying goodbye to my flatmates yesterday. They were so great. We were all completely different, but shared a sense of humour. Just giggled all day long. I'll miss their silliness. At least Nick will be around in July; I think it'll be good to have someone to hang around with outside the SU. I might go a little crazy otherwise.

The ball was superb. I love getting dressed up in all my finery (although it's less fine now Sam has spilt wine on it: dry cleaners here I come). My gloves added a touch of class to the occasion, and my jacket was very welcome as the night got colder. My feet are still sore from my shoes, though, and I seem to have done something to my knee. It was a bit sore yesterday, and now aches quite a lot.

I spent most of Saturday afternoon getting ready for the ball. I went for breakfast in 'Spoons, then had a very pleasant stroll back down the High Street, waltzing to accordion music with Chris (it was just so French) and stopping in Thorntons for a delicious lemon and mint ice-cream cone. My dress need alteration (I've lost weight since I last wore it three years ago), so I spent some time getting that right. I think I did it quite well, although I'm going to go take the stitching out in a minute so the dress doesn't get marked. Gran could probably alter it better next time it needs doing. I taught Robbie how to use a curling tongs so he could do the back of my hair: it was far too complicated trying to do it in a mirror.

The pre-ball reception was lovely. A big buffet (always my favourite part), lots of wine and all sorts of people to chat to. I had a nice chat with the Vice-Chancellor about radio, then inadvertently called him old. Oops. I also spoke to one of the Pro-Vice Chancellors who seemed quite nice. We had an in-depth chat about something-or-other, I can't remember. Oh, Seren. He's a lecturer in the English department, you see.

The ball itself was a flurry of chatting to people, going on the big wheel, and sitting on the balcony while Sam fell over repeatedly. I stayed until the end, but felt quite zombie-like. Breakfast was disappointing: Mike's was full (my fault for being so slow and forgetting to get my bag from the balcony) so we went to Dylan's where we had a pretty boring bap with sausage and bacon. It was too boring to finish.

But this is something I want to rant about briefly. Ball night in Bangor is a pretty big night out. Like it or not, there are a lot of very drunk people and a minority of people taking drugs. There are drunken ladies walking through University Park on their own in the dark. All sorts of things. So what do Bangor police do with their van? They park it outside Mike's Bites to stop both Mike's and Dylan's serving hot food before 5am (they'd advertised that they would be serving food from 3am onwards, apparently a breach of their licence). Really now, who cares if they serve food two hours early? Isn't hot food a good thing to serve to people who are a little the worse for wear? And is that really, truly the best use of police resources on ball night?