"She's All That" Causes Confusion

Ah. Film Four. The now-free film channel brings us quality films every day.
Really?
Well, maybe if you're a girl and/or like trashy films you may have enjoyed the offering of "She's All That". I was slightly bemused, but it was very watchable, as I am a trashy film-o-holic...

The premise of the film was high-school jock is dumped by largest bitch (i.e. the most popular girl in school) six weeks before the prom. He is bet by not-so-good-buddy to take the dorkiest girl in school and make her prom queen. Yes, it really is that trashy. But there are some good twists in the tale.

But I was confused. I was confused because the dork kept wearing a felafel on her head, the jock made up some random stage show about hakeysacks (sp?), the dork made her art-class rival look like a clown, the jock didn't kiss the girl half-way through the film for some unknown reason, Sarah Michelle-Gellar sits in the canteen and has a non-speaking cameo, and they just start dancing in sync during the prom scene..... and the dork was called Laney Boggs...

And I am confused...

Blame It On The Boogie... Or The Tall People (Part One)

Ah... August weekend. What to do - spend a weekend chilling out at home being fed by my mother and being the general dogsbody, going out with friends to camp in Croyde, getting rained on, or do something completely different with tall people?

Well, it had to be the tall people. The weekend started with the trip to Nottingham. The train station always seems to be three minutes ahead of me so maybe stopping to get cash when I only had three minutes to go was probably a stupid idea. Never mind, after much swearing I was on the next train a little poorer. The weekend may have started on a bad footing but was made much better by being able to find Ross and Rob (Tweedledum and Tweedledee with legs) in the pub next to the train station as soon as I did turn up in Nottingham. The hall we were staying in was a 20-minute trip from Nottingham in the very pleasant town of Eastwood. It was lovely, although a little bit claustrophobic - the corridors were a tad narrow for my liking!
We were supposed to have a barbeque for Friday night, but it rained. So they gave us food inside, which we were particularly grateful of after not eating since a pasty at lunch. The Directors dressed up as members of the Robin Hood tale (including one particularly fetching bloke, Stuart, in a Maid Marian outfit. Nice.) . Then there was big snakes and ladders, twister and kareoke. I lost the snakes and ladders, there was only half a twister (?) and went for singing Dream A Little Dream, again.
Saturday was "cultural day". We went to Nottingham Town centre to view the Robin Hood statue. I think most Nottingham residents get annoyed with the fact that that's all people associate Nottingham with. Well at least they don't always think of the fact that Nottingham has the one of the highest violent crime rates in the country! We spent some time in the caves looking at where they had bomb shelters (and then wondered if sandstone would actually protect from a bomb when it can be rubbed away with bare hands) and went on to the "Castle". Of course, Nottingham castle is actually a manor house and not a castle, but we weren't bothered. Especially when the group was approached by the local news and Ross got filmed for half a second...
Ah! And who was right beside him... Yes, little old me! Standing between Ross and Karsten (that's the other tall bloke, possibly just a wee bit taller than Ross at 7'4), which happened a lot to me, actually made me feel quite small!
After our starring role we got to have lunch and spend a little bit of time going round the castle before being picked up in our as-spacious-as-they-come- but-still-too-small-for-Ross coach. Our tour guide spent the trip to Sherwood forest telling us about Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men. The whole way, which was an hour and 40 minutes, or so I was told. I was told this, as despite the fact that our tour guide had a very loud voice and there was a speaker right above my head, I managed to sleep through a large percentage of the tale....

Today I Shall Be Mostly Dancing....

The "I can make Ross' DVD Dance"

Ok, this may need some explanation. We have made up many phrases of the week but recently we have decided we needed a dance too. This is mainly because when I was bored one day, I just started to dance while Ellie and Pippa were setting a gel. This was rapidly christened "The Gel Setting Dance", which morphed into "The Gel Running Dance" which one day even included jazz hands (see, before this, all the dances were roughly the same dance, just for different purposes!). The dance is usually bad, and involves some kind of arm movement, not much leg movement. Last time Ross saw me do it he asked me if I was having a fit or something, rude boy. My favourite dance is the "Dried Mango" dance as we were in Asda the other day and found dried mango, which brought about dancing. We like dried mango. But we're not allowed to dance in front of it any more because apparently it's inefficient (or Tone just wants his dinner!)....

And, for your viewing enjoyment, here is the cover of Ross's new DVD project... since I'm definitely not taking a photo of me dancing badly (sorry!)

Don't Tell Me Not To Fly, I've Simply Got To

I'm sorry, but Morris Dancing has to be one of the most eccentrically English (or is it British, I don't know) things there is. Grown men waving hankerchiefs with hats decorated with flowers. All with bells tied round their legs. Bizarre. Although I'd never seen a beast before. I just looked that one up. Apparently Morris dancing is thought of mostly as a English tradition, and is traditionally male. Although there are some groups who have women dancers too (well I was just wondering!).
This display was all part of the Bristol Flower Show, where, shockingly enough, I didn't buy any plants. Before you all gasp in wonder, I did buy some cider. Local scrumpy in a milk-style bottle. Nice. As well as some andouiette-style pork with stuffing bun (for those of you who aren't Jocelyn, andouiettes are rather disgusting local sausages we mistakenly purchased at a festival in Paris. Blargh.). I watched some fire cadets do five things with a ladder. I was a bit disappointed because I was hoping that firemen might be big and sexy and do some fire demonstration but apparently today it was just a few spotty teenagers with a ladder and a tarpaulin. But they did tie someone up which I guess was kind of exciting...
The final show was a magician. This bloke was actually quite a good entertainer as well and spent most of the time talking and not really doing any tricks, and seeing as he didn't know many this was a good thing. I was really entertained actually, especially with the Three Chairs And A Table Top trick which involved a lot of precarious balancing... oh, and three juggling balls, of course


Meep. And yes, he did get on that big unicycle in the front, and proceeded to circle round the entire crowd at much pace!

I Had A Tractor, But It Didn't Work

I had a tractor, but it didn't work
I had a tractor, but it didn't work
I had a tractor, the wheels fell off
I had a tractor, the wheels fell off


I'm sorry, I just needed that.

Running Through Mirrors

There was a cocktail party. It was far less stressfull than it could have been because I had an Ellie to help me with the organisation. The house is absolutely spotless now (yes really) including my bedroom....

We played Kareoke. So, I went through the high scores today and I thought I would present you with the top 10 singers from the party....

1. Helen 8200
2. Sue 7824
3. Hills 7535
4. Ellie 7448
5. Rachel 7078
6. Phil O 7073
7. Cat 6962
8. Pete 6873
9. Phil T 5906
10. Patrick 4890

Well done everyone! Thank you all for coming...

The Saga Of The Bug Room

When I came here, Everything Worked.
Then, the centrifuge Broke. This may not seem a problem, but when you have to do four spins in a centrifuge one floor up, and you have to travel there eight times, it's not so much fun.
Four long months passed.
Meanwhile The Sonicator Broke. Again, this may not seem so much, but when you've walked eight times upstairs and you have to go up again for the final time and stand in a fridge for 10 minutes You Are Quite Pissed Off (and Exhausted).
The New Centrifuge Arrived, finally, after One Month's Delay and The Hottest July On Record (here I remind you again of the nine times having to go up and down stairs)
A month later, The Sonicator Works! Hooray, you think, maybe the saga has finished....

The Incubator Broke. Just in the Middle Of My Induction. So I'm Delayed Another Hour.
Ok, again, this May Not Be The End Of The World, but it's annoying, especially when you make the effort to come in and start early.
Also we now have 1 incubator for 5 plus groups to share, with overnight incubations at 37, inductions at 30 and growing competent cells at 19 this may not Work Very Well....

The saga continues...

Hilary + Lots of Cider at a Beer Festival =

Peanut Cracknell Week

If life was a box of chocolates, this would be a week full of peanut cracknells. Those of you not familiar with Quality Street as I have been over many Christmasses might need to know that peanut cracknell was mashed peanut covered with chocolate and one of the family's least favourite chocolates, so much so most of them were given to the dogs. They were horrible. And so this week has been horrible. But the week is finished now, and there were some nice moments, such as pizza, biscuits and chocolate in front of a really trashy film with Ellie. That was a Lindlt Tiramisu moment (mmmm they are good). Going to watch Pirates of the Carribean on Wednesday despite being completely exhausted was also really good (probably a toffee and hazelnut-centered chocolate). Yesterday, we went to Stratford upon Avon which was weird because last time I was there, almost a year ago, I was one of the shortest people (being on a tall trip there ARE women taller than me, yes really. They're lovely too.) there. This time I was the tallest. Picnic lunch was fun but sitting in the very topmost row of a baking hot theatre (I suffer slightly from vertigo and from heat exhaustion) trying to work out what the hell Patrick Stewart was doing with a load of shiprecked mariners, spirits and a man who smelt of fish on an island (this was the Tempest, by the way) was a bit hard to fathom and extremely hard to stay awake through. We reckoned Mr Shakespeare, much as I respect his work, was on some kind of drug throughout the writing of this. But it was something different, and it was good to see a play in a theatre I'd gone round the back of last time I was there.

So, all's well that ends well? Maybe. I don't think I'll be having any Dark Bounty moments soon though. Hopefully more middle of the road - maybe a Twix or something.

More Flower Excitement

Another one of my Hoyas has been waving flower buds at me for a very long time. I was surprised that it did actually flower because many of the buds get rejected, but this one has made it and is preeety....

This one is a Hoya Engleriana. There are more pictures of the buds opening here and you can read more about my hoyas here (also linked as My Hoya Page).
As a result of the flower the plant's been moved from my bedroom to a more prominent position in the lounge. Much flowery goodness.... Yay.
But I'm not feeling so yay because I worked 11 hours yesterday, have had little sleep recently and this makes a Hilary break down gently.

Cod with Sweet Potato "Salad"

So good you'll dance (I should trademark that!)

One chunk cod
One sweet potato, peeled and cut into chunks
One red (or yellow, or orange) pepper, cut into strips
One onion, cut into small wedges
Olive oil
Fresh basil and parsley
Dessertspoon mayonnaise
A few drops tabasco sauce
Pinch freshly-grinded pepper

Place cod, potato, pepper and onion in a large piece of cooking foil on a baking tray. Drizzle with olive oil and tear the herbs over it. Fold foil over food like a parcel.
Cook at gas mark 6 (400 F 200 C) for about half an hour or until the cod is cooked.
Mix the mayo, tabasco and pepper together, use as a dressing for the food.
Mmmmmmmm

Things To Use Instead Of Your Hand

I frequently find myself at least a hand full, so I thought I would create a random list - why not?

5. Your Other Hand (go for the obvious one)
4. Your Leg - good for kicking doors open. Don't kick to hard, otherwise it'll come back at you too fast....
3. Your Elbow (good for door handles)
2. Your Mouth (commonly used by me to hold my wallet when I've run out of hands - not recommended when handling dangerous materials!)
1. Your Arse (bum first, also can be used to open door handles)

No, I Don't Want to Give You £x a Week, Or Convert To Your Religion

It all started with the phone calls. Once upon a time people never got blasted at every turn with people trying to grab your money, although I might be feeling wistful here. Now we get someone at every turn. Phone calls are easy, as you can just hang up on them (if you don't want to be horribly rude to them as my father is). So are emails - delete (you can say that in a cyberman-stylee way if you like). One of the first ever crank calls I got was from someone telling me I'd won a trip to Florida. Sounds lovely, if it wasn't for the fact four hurricanes hadn't just torn through the entire state.
Even spam is nicer than emails that tell you you've won $1 million but you will have to pay some "transfer expenses" to get it. Ha.

Now we have the group of people in town all wearing similar bibs all trying to grab your money. If you miss one, then you're more than likely to be hit by the next. Yes, I know that you're just trying to support the aged or the pandas or people in Africa with no water but all I want to do is go into town and be LEFT ALONE. If I wanted to give money to these people I would do it when I had a moment at the computer. I made the mistake of stopping to chat to a Sustrans bloke. I know they do good work, but to be honest when I'm cycling to work of a Thursday, I don't want to be stopped and asked for money.
On Saturday, while I was washing up, I had to answer the door to a Jehovah's witness. I only know that because I was bothered by her before. I told her I was busy and held up my froth-filled hands. She asked me whether I would like her to come back and go through the bible or something with her. Sigh. I really did want to ask her whether I really wanted to join a religion where only 144,000 of the members are elegible to go to heaven but I couldn't be bothered to argue about religious matters on a Saturday morning with soap suds in my hands.

The Day You Realise You've Become Your Mother....

...... when you find what was couscous mouldering in a container in the back of your fridge.

Our survey says.... eewwwww

Lessons Learnt In Central Bristol

1. Always wear a Helmet
I'm going to be serious here. On Wednesday night a bloke cycled down Park Street and never made it. He was not wearing a helmet, and this may have saved his life. If we can learn anything from this it is to wear a helmet. Please.

2. When in groups of five, wear a costume?
I came through the centre of town the other day and went past a group of five men wearing sailor uniforms. I was going to write something about men in uniform (arrogant but yummy) but then, as I cycled on, I noticed five people wearing bride's dresses, two of which were most definitely male. This was getting more curious. Then I went past five people wearing commando uniforms. At this point I realised there must be teams of five all dressed in the same uniform doing something round Bristol. I'm sure they had fun...

3. If it's going to go to waste, let everybody enjoy it

I came past this rather bizarre image on my way home yesterday. I believe it had happened just before I came past in the morning as they were arranging the flowers as I went past. I have no idea whatsoever how this happened, as this lorry is right in the middle of a pedestrian/bus area. I can only believe that it came careering down Park Street and somehow managed to end up here. Ooops.

Body Matters

I am tying up a few loose ends here.

First of all, a few months ago I wrote about my weight problem and what I was going to do to solve it. Allegedly I now weigh 15 stone, which means I've lost 5 pounds in 4 months. Well, at least I haven't gained weight. Anyway, most people apart from my immediate family tell me that I don't need to lose weight, so instead I'm going to start to focus on toning up instead and trying to eat as healthily as I can within reason and cravings. There we go. Maybe in another four months I'll give you guys another update.

Also my friend Marcus has been bugging me for weeks about whether I've done another HNT. I find this a little suspect, but am bored enough to present this little offering. I took it specially after going to badminton and it was bloody hard work. Anyway, that's the final one, and it comes with a small "some flesh on show" warning.

Paris est Ma Ami... Et La Cidre

My first two trips to Paris were not auspicious events. The first time, we were changing buses in some dodgy bus station and got chased by a freaky French bloke demanding kisses (from me and my male friend, or from both of us, I never stopped to find out). The second time, we went to go visit a university friend who spend most of her time sucking face with her French boyfriend and not actually spending that much time with us, despite the fact we'd travelled all the way from Bristol by car to see her.

So, I approached my third trip to Paris with some trepidation. Was the third time going to be luckier? Hooray! It was! I had a lovely time. We walked round Paris at least 10 times, drank the equivalent of three bottles of wine and had more French food than probably a French person. Croissants, pain au chocolat, baguette, escargots (snails), andouiettes (disgusting French sausages that smelt of offal), crepes, galettes (savoury version of crepes), random (but delicious) salads with bread on top, steaks done very rare, tarte bourdelou (pear and almond, mmmm), delicious sorbets with any type of fruit you wanted (pear and apple... mmmmmm) and, last but not least, my most favouritest, French cider.

Ah yes. French cider. Yummy yummy, for those of you who ever go to France and come back with a bottle of this for me will make a very good friend....

I look forward to drinking this, probably will dance a lot when I get to open it (outside, as these things are notoriousely dangerous and have a tendency to explode!!!)

Amusing Announcement

Before Monty Python's "Meaning Of Life" :

This film contains swearing, violence, sex... and a wafer thin mint.

My Hoya Carnosa

Dance with me! My first ever Hoya flower!!! Woooohooooooooooooo!
And I can smell it, despite a blocked nose and a chest infection...
I love Hoyas. My interest in plants was started at an early age by my mother, who got us to plant out seeds and watch them grow into flowers. Although, I wasn't terribly excited by being able to grow radishes - I hate radishes!
My mother's had these two Hoyas growing in the dining room for longer than I've been alive. They came from cuttings of her friend's plant in Switzerland, which apparently has been there at least since the 1940s. Several years ago these plants got mealy bugs and started to go downhill. I managed to grab a couple of leaves and tried to root them. After leaving them for several months in the greenhouse, sure enough one leaf did start to root and grow a new stem. Hooray! This plant got taken to Bristol for my undergraduate degree, off to Cambridge for my postgraduate degree and now back to Bristol for my postdoc. Since those early days the plant has grown and grown (to tryffid-like size) but never flowered. It had a few knocks and probably didn't get enough sun. Last year it had to go home again and sat in the sunshine and got fed tomato food for a change, which produced new growths, called "peduncles". Oooh. It's been thinking about flowering for a few weeks now but finally I have been rewarded. Yayayayayayayayay!

[Object] Is My Friend

This particular phrase is currently reaching its zenith. So I thought I would write a list of what is, and is not, my friend this week.

...Is Not My Friend
My body (after feeling that my stomach was exploding at the start of the week, my head is now exploding instead. Nice.)
England, for making me gnash my teeth when I'm watching them. I'd make a very nervous football supporter
Sweden (the match on Tuesday made me say "England and Sweden are not my friends")
Code-lock doors - why are there so many at work, and why do they all have different numbers?
Evmpzg

...Is My Friend
Lunch
My Sofa
Ross (less than a week til I see him! Yay!)
Pizza
Parcels through the post... especially if they're presents!

...Might be My Friend
The centrifuge (it works, but it's far away)
Peter Crouch (we like, but not for too long)
Chocolate (tastes nice, but bad for me)

Feel free to add your own in the reactions area...