Dissertation presentation preparation

It tends to be my big task after Easter: preparing for the dissertation presentations. It involves finding out which members of staff are available when, making a schedule, finding out which students are allowed to either present to only the staff, of to upload a recording. Sorting out catering, communicating with worried students, making sure all paperwork is ready for all staff. And making conference booklets. I make sure every room has a booklet with the session's programme, and the summaries of the talks. I will only print out a few of these bathroom this year, as in the past, I have had to throw quite a lot of them away. But I think it is nice to create a bit of a scientific conference feel.

This year I was on it fairly early. That was easy, as this year they fell after Easter. If Easter falls late, that doesn't fit. This year, Easter is early, so I could start during the time the students were away. Great! So as soon as the students upload their presentation slides and talk summaries I can deal with that without also having to do the rest of the work, as that will be already done. I have faith it will be fairly straightforward this year! 

Shuttleworth

Old-fashionede early. I sort of have that habit. Also when I am in a YSS caving hut in the Dales. Gwyneth is the same. When I got up I found her in the living room. I had my breakfast there, and a nice chat. And I went to get my stuff ready for today's trip: Shuttleworth. I didn't know the place. I know it only takes two ropes to get in.

In dribs and drabs, the other ladies appeared. And after a while, we all made our way back to Cowan Bridge, and from there to the same parking place we had been the day before. And I thought I'd just get kitted up as the day before. I did not! Looking at my bucket I realised I had left my furry suit in the hut. Stupid! But I had been a bit warm the day before, so I could clearly wear less, if it was a vaguely comparable trip. I decided I would just wear my regular clothes underneath my oversuit and that would have to do. But the other ladies weren't having that. Gwyneth offered me mountain biking leggings, and Ellie a thermal top. That was kind! 

It was a longer walk to the entrance, but still not cumbersomely long. The entrance looked a bit like a raised covered manhole. Open the cover and you see a tube with a ladder in it. At the bottom of the tube a hole was cut in its side. 

Ellie would go in first. There was a bit of faffing. The hole in the side didn’t lead to a level, but to a pitch. There was no floor outside that hole. It seemed a bit difficult to rig. 

It was one thing to rig it, and apparently another to go down it. It took people forever to vanish out of sight! And there was a cold wind blowing. I was missing my furry suit. But the other ladies, who were wearing what they had intended to wear, were cold too.

When I could finally go in I was at least out of the wind. But progress was slow. But the cave is quite narrow in its upper reaches, so I had no idea why. That's frustrating! If you can see what's going on, you can emphasise with it, but if you have no idea what's going on, the only thing you can do is be bored.

After that first short pitch there was a short traverse to a short pitch through a narrow gap down onto a ledge with a bit of a sideways pitch to a next shelf. Progress was so slow! As I was just waiting I didn’t get warm. After that shelf there seemed to be a long pitch, but even that took forever. Once Gwyneth, who was the one in front of me, was on it, I could see it had yet another rebelay. But after that, it was straight down. 

The pitch in the narrow gap

The final pitch(es)

That brought us into a rather large chamber. And in there, we crawled to a different part of the chamber, which has nice dripstone information. That is what we had come for! We walked around, admiring the scenery, and taking lots of pictures. That is; the others did, as we had decided to leave our bags behind by the crawl, and that is where I had my phone. So all the pictures were taken by those who had kept these on them.

Beautiful curtain 

Group pic

Looking at drippies

It was nice but for me, it hadn't been worth the long cold wait and the being home late. But that's the thing about caving; sometimes you're committed! So at least I was warm now, as the crawling warmed me up, and I just enjoyed the views and the company.

When we had seen it all we went back to our bags. Sharon suggested the snack break. But I was conscious of time. I hoped to have a little bit of evening at home! And I know the cat would be getting impatient. So I suggested I start making my way up. That was accepted. Sharon would come after me, helping Mary up. And then the rest would follow.

I thought I'd wait at the top of the little traverse, but they took quite a while. Before Sharon had reached me I decided to go all the way out. The first thing I wanted to do is check that no prankster would have closed the cover of the cave, locking us in. Probably not! But you never know. And the second thing was; one of the things I wanted to do at home was phone my mom. But I could just as well do it right here. As long as I was outside.

I got out, found a sheltered spot, and phoned my mum. That was nice. I also tried to phone Neil but he didn't answer. And by that time I could hear Sharon behind me. She suggested I come back into the tube, in order to shelter more efficiently from the wind. I did that. And together we helped Mary out. 

Out! 

Mary turned out to have all the car keys on her. They gave them to me and sent me ahead. So I could change back into my civilian gear and have a leak. And not much later, the others started to appear. This was the end of our trip! But it was already 5 pm, and it is almost a three hour drive.

We said our goodbyes and headed back to Wales. It had been a great weekend! I had really enjoyed the Lost John’s trip, and going for a meal afterwards. But now it was time to get back to the little cat! I am sure we will do things like this more often. 

Lost John’s with the UCET ladies

The underground ladies had organised another caving weekend. The previous one had been really lovely, so I was keen to go again. This one would be in Yorkshire. I wasn't very picky about where to go. I hadn't done much in the Yorkshire dales. 

I had decided to drive up on the Saturday morning. Then I could do the whole day of Saturday caving, and whatever it would be we would do on Sunday morning, and then drive home. That would be maximum caving for a minimum number of nights away from the cat. 

If I drove straight to the venue. It would be an early start! So what venue? And it turned out that the group would split two. One trip would be Lost John’s cave. That was one of the very few I already had done, back in the days with the YCC. The other one was Sunset Hole; I had to look that up. It looked a bit unchallenging. So in spite of having done it before, I decided to go for Lost John’s. 

With our little group of four we had we decided to meet in Cowan Bridge, and then car share to the actual cave. So I got up at 5:45, left about 6:20, and was in the village about 10 minutes before the agreed time. Travel has been flawless! But by that time, a great time had moved up half an hour, for reasons of the ladies already having spent the night in Yorkshire not quite managing the original time. That was OK; I bought my Saturday Guardian in the village shop, and just sat in the car reading it, and doing some more eating and drinking. It's always good to be well-fuelled when you go underground. The less you have to carry with you, the better it is!

Soon, Ellie and Gwyneth appeared. Liz would also be coming. I had caved with all of them before. At least, that’s what I thought. Gwyneth and Ellie asked if Liz was there already, and they said they didn't know what she looks like. I was really surprised! But it turned out we had two ladies called Liz on this weekend, and the one who would be coming with us was a new one. And there she was. Liz and I jumped into one car, and then we drove to where we would park. It was in the middle of the Dales. Beautiful!

Where it started

Lost John's rigging guide

 

We got kitted up, and walked the very short distance to the entrance. And then it began! We walked into an active streamway. And after not much time, that streamway changed into a rift. A rift! Ever since having been in my first one I've hated them. It's something with depending for your life on balance and friction. But I've done them before and I can do them again. This one was, as rifts go, not a bad one. But I was glad to get to the other side of it.

The entrance. Pic by Ellie 

The rift

Then followed the first pitch. Not a very long one. Ellie and Liz were happy to rig it. Gwyneth and I were quite happy not to. All went smoothly. And then we got to some short drops. That required a bit of spotting each other. And then we got to two more pitches in short succession. And more level and more scrambles and then some more ropework that was a bit more convoluted. Gwyneth managed to do some impressive knitting which required her to do the splits in mid-air to get out of that. She managed it! And a bit later I saw my nemesis in front of me. Another rift! This one was a lot less straightforward. It was also rigged, for that reason. But even when rigged I didn't like it. Liz was already out of sight. Ellie was still within shouting distance. 

Me coming down the main pitch. Pic by Ellie

Slightly more convoluted pitch. Pic by Ellie

I started to make my way into it. But I knew that if I committed, I would have to do it twice! And also do the one near the entrance. Plus all the other things to deal with. I gave it some thought. I knew that I could do it; after all, there was a rope. But I decided I preferred not to. There is a limit as to how much adrenaline I want to produce in a day! And we also needed to be out on time for our booked pub dinner that night. And I suggested to Ellie I bail and just wait for the others. 

Gwyneth doesn't like rifts either. And she said that she feared her headlight was running out of battery power. So she decided that if I would bail, she would bail. And we decided to bail together. We would start making our way back, but not go all the way out; we would help the others carry all the ropes out. So we wished them a lot of fun; they were heading all the way to the bottom of the cave. And we headed back to where Gwyneth had left her little bag behind. That was where she had her spare battery. And we could have a snack and a drink while we were at it. 

We were sitting down by a gaping hole in the floor. I warned Gwyneth that she should hold on to her stuff. Anything that would slide down into that hole would never be seen again! And she heeded that. But when we were done, and got ready to move on again, I wondered where my left glove was. Surprise surprise, I had let it fall into the hole! So that was lost. Oh well. 

Together we managed to sort out the scrambles. Some of them don't have much to put your foot on, but together we were fine. Gwyneth sometimes appreciates a Hand of God! 

We went to the top of the two pitches in close succession. The first was quite long. Quite a workout!  I went up first, and then waited for Gwyneth. It was a workout for her too. I decided to sing a song for her. Maybe that would keep her entertained on the boring way up! And I can't sing, but acoustics in a cavern like that is so good you can't really tell. I ended up singing three Tori Amos songs. She didn’t complain. 

We went up other pitch and waited for the other ladies. We had enough to talk about! And they were so fast, it didn't take them long. In hindsight we probably should have waited one pitch lower. I could have hauled up their bags! But I hadn't thought of that. At least I could haul up their bags on the second pitch. And then take one of them to get back to the entrance.

It wasn't far now. The only thing of note was then the rift. I let one of the fast ladies go first. But negotiating it was not an issue. And then we were outside again!

Me in the rift. Pic by Ellie

We changed, got my car back, and went to the YSS hut. I needed to find myself a place to sleep. It turned out that Liz was in a room with no one else, so I joined her, until I realised she had been quarantined for reasons of having a noisy cough. I didn't like that very much! So I just joined all the others. That would be not quite ideal, but better than being coughed awake all night. 

I also had a shower and a cup of tea, and then we were ready to go to the pub. The food was nice and the company was great, so that was fantastic. And when we got back I went to bed quite early. A long but successful day!

Well-earned pub meal

Spring on the track

On Easter Monday it was lovely weather! Our main task that day was sorting out the big mattress swap, but we made sure that in between unceremoniously plonking the new one in the house and finishing the job we went for a nice walk. I basically showed Neil my weekend trail loop. And we had dinner in the garden.

The day after it was still nice weather. I made sure to wear a sleeveless vest for track training, but because pretty much all my runs this year had been cold (except the one in Birkenhead) I put a T-shirt over that vest, and a jacket over the T-shirt. But I didn't end up wearing either T-shirt or jacket for even a meter of running! It was so warm.

Some of my fellow runners were complaining that it was so hot. I said that was quite the contrast, as recently we had been complaining about that it was so cold."Yes, literally last week" was the response. It was true!

During these recent Baltic track trainings I had been quite aware that it is technically spring, and that the moment we would be quite hot doing our sessions wouldn't be far off. And then it suddenly came! And it gave me more of an overpowering spring feeling than the day before had done.

The day after, the weather turned. It didn't stay that warm long! But it wouldn't surprise me if from now on, complaining about the heat on the track is going to be more common than complaining about the cold, for months to come. And at some point it will be difficult to deal with, but for now I'm actually quite glad I'm not freezing my arse off when I appear at the start line!

Easter garden work

Around all the adventures I also found some time to dedicate to the garden. It was high time! So much needed doing I was getting overwhelmed.

I cut the grass, and weeded, and added more plants to the bed I had emptied the year before. I took some of the oregano running wild out and planted some other herbs in that bed. 

I bought some shade-resistant plants and put them in pots by the front door. Some old plants had died there. 

There is still an awful lot to do! But a start has been made. And it already looks considerably better. 

One of my new plants at the front of the house 

Some tomato plants and suchlike in the garden. The first to grow big gets the big pot (now full of weed) in the back 

Some new herbs keeping my ornamental cabbage company 

Bed improvements

I have no strong opinions on beds. If it’s meant to sleep in you can sleep in it. So when I bought my current double bed, I wasn’t fussy. Nor, as it so happens, when I bought my single bed. They serve me fine. 

Neil is fussy. He wants a firm mattress. He doesn't sleep well on a soft one. And by coincidence, mine is rather soft. You can see the problem.

I was quite happy to go and buy a firm one for him, until he said he wasn't sure if it was actually the mattress that caused him to not sleep very well when he is at mine. Maybe it is the room! Maybe it is the cat! It could be all sorts of things.

We decided to go for an easy solution. He has a spare bed he doesn't sleep in it. It's for guests. Guests might have all sort of preferences. In order to verify if it was just the mattress, we decided to just take that mattress to my house. If he would sleep well from then on, it wasn't the mattress. Problem solved!

When we were juggling with mattresses anyway, he addressed a different issue: my bed is a bit squeaky. And he figured he knew what to do about it. The cause must be different parts of the bed rubbing against each other. If you put some rubber in between them, it should stop. So he identified where the squeaking happens, and put strips of old bicycle tube between the various parts. That didn't take very long.

Then we put the mattress on, made the bed, and were ready to try it out. And the result is: no squeaking! And a happy and well-rested Neil in the morning! It has only been one night, but I have faith this was actually the problem, and he will sleep well in my place from now on. Fab.

For some reason, he wasn't keen to take my mattress home with him. Maybe he objects to soft mattresses in his entire house. This is a situation that we should resolved later. For now I will just see if someone in the community wants it. And if not, it will have to go to the recycling centre. There's nothing wrong with it! But few people can keep something as big as a double mattress in store without issues. But sleep is very important. If that thing can’t offer that to Neil, it is not fit for purpose, no matter how good it is for anyone else!

Old mattress for now hiding behind my single bed 

Ps someone in the community did want it! It now lives in Trefriw. 

Book: Tadwlad

It took me several months! In January, we started reading a book for Welsh class: Tadwlad (Fatherland). I often struggle to find time to read books, and this one turned out to be written in South Welsh, which is sufficiently different from North Welsh to make this book decidedly less easy to read for someone like me. It was a bit like running through treacle. 

Warning: spoiler alert.

At the very beginning of the book, in the first sentence even, the main person finds out that his father, whose funeral he is just attending, was adopted. He never had any idea.

The main character, Dylan, is working with refugees. It is specified that he used to have a much more lucrative career, but something happened, and he ended up losing his job in his wife (with whom he has a son). But he now has that other job, and a new girlfriend. I expected the thing that made him lose his initial job would be elucidated later on in the book.

Of all the refugees he works with, two are specified. One is Nabil, a Syrian medic. He is the second narrator. He comes across as alone and rudderless. And he is wary of Hadi, an Iraqi barber. The latter tends to have a small group of acolytes around him. Nabil finds them intimidating.

The book mainly trundles on with the daily life of both main characters. Not much happens. Somewhere halfway down the book, Dylan finds out that his father was born in Lübeck, after the end of the second world war. And that his grandfather was there.

It then trundles a bit more, until a big thing (in the context of this book) happens: Hadi plants suspicion in Dylan's mind about that Nabil has a wife, but never mentions her. Does he have something to hide? Dylan asks, and Nabil retreats. This was a moment of suspended disbelief for me; would anyone working with refugees really be so blunt? People flee for a reason. They might not necessarily want to talk about all the losses they have suffered before they reached the UK. 

Then more trundling follows, until towards the end of the book, everything suddenly accelerates. We find out that Nabil’s wife drowned during the Channel crossing. Nabil has always felt inferior as the son of a day labourer, found out he has a knack for being charismatic and entertaining, and also, for hairdressing, and manages to establish himself with a business in Mosul. Until the religious authorities disapprove of the modern hairstyles he cuts. He strikes to deal with them, and is then seen as a traitor. He flees. And is wary of privileged people, such as middle-class folk with a good education.

Then, Hadi is attacked by racists, but manages to stagger back to the refugee centre. There, Nabil applies tourniquets and saves him. Slightly too convenient for my taste, but hey ho. 

In the last chapter you suddenly hear the voice of Dylan's father. He travels to Germany, talks to someone who has gone through the archives in order to find out about his mother, and is told that there is no mention anywhere of his father. The archive lady suspects strongly that his mother was raped by a soldier of the Red Army, and was never keen to talk about that with anyone. The father then decides he is also not keen to talk about that with anyone. And then the book ends.

I suppose this is all about the secrets we keep, and that we might have particular reasons to keep them. It doesn't have to be anything malicious. I found it quite elegant that we never find out what happened to Dylan. 

I suppose another theme is refugees. If you live in Western Europe in this day, having to flee might well look like something that happens to distant people. But it might be closer than you think.

As dénouements go, I found the rape story a bit obvious. I suspected that as soon as I read about the war and Lübeck, but I had the impression it is supposed to come as a surprise. Maybe I'm wrong!

So what did I think about it altogether? I must say, I am glad I read it. I would really have preferred it to have been written in North Welsh, but you can't always get what you want. I quite like that there wasn't much going on. I thought book would have been stronger without the blunt tool of one person saving another person's life after a violent attack. But if the book really would have been as pedestrian as I like them, I suspect it wouldn't have been chosen for a project such as this. This book had been recommended to Welsh classes all over the country, and in the end there was an online event in which you could ask the author questions. I wasn't even halfway by the time that happened, so I didn't participate in that. But this was bigger than our Welsh class. Maybe a bit of blood helps inclusion! 

Now this book can go back to the library. And what is next for me? I am well over halfway in Jacko’s book about breathing and running. That may be the next review! And I am flying through a small book about historic Llandudno. But on my list is also the latest book by Peredur the linguist. At least that will have been written in North Welsh!