Gillian Polack's Blog, page 121
March 24, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-03-25T15:44:00
I need another break. What I need is a cuppa, but I don't quite have the energy to make it. Preparations are progressing slowly. I only have three dishes to make, three chairs to sponge, the table to lay, the seder plate to make up and a few other things. I'm carefully not thinking about the few other things. I'm especially not thinking about the huge pile of recycling occupying my loungeroom floor, because the recycling bin is completely chockers. I just went out to check and there's not a skerrick of space. I'm wondering if my friends would believe me if I claimed it was an amazing and innovative sculpture?
Outside my flat, things are rocking. It's a lovely day, and everyone seems to have taken a holiday. One neighbour is cleaning her car. Another neighbour is playing with his kids. More neighbours are in a tizzy, for they're going away for a month and (much more exciting for the kids) are getting takeaway dinner at afternoon tea time. These are my sensible neighbours, and their timing is perfect so the children will be asleep for as much of the early part of the two-day trip as possible. We all chat on the way past, which makes putting out rubbish a friendly business.
And now it's time to make the charoseth. We-who-are-about-to-grate-apple salute you.
Outside my flat, things are rocking. It's a lovely day, and everyone seems to have taken a holiday. One neighbour is cleaning her car. Another neighbour is playing with his kids. More neighbours are in a tizzy, for they're going away for a month and (much more exciting for the kids) are getting takeaway dinner at afternoon tea time. These are my sensible neighbours, and their timing is perfect so the children will be asleep for as much of the early part of the two-day trip as possible. We all chat on the way past, which makes putting out rubbish a friendly business.
And now it's time to make the charoseth. We-who-are-about-to-grate-apple salute you.
How to Avoid Gillian at Conflux - A Guide for the Perplexed (and Cautious)
I have most of my Conflux programme (not quite all, so there will be a reprise of this post after Pesach) and I needed a lunchbreak, so here's my annual guide to Gillian-avoidance. I don't have time to think of fancy arguments to establish firmly that you should avoid me, but I'll add them next week when I do an update. Just assume them right now. Or add them in the comments. "See Gillian and you will put on weight!"
Thursday 25 April -
12pm-3pm workshop Writing with the five senses
"Have you ever wanted to describe a feast where your readers can almost smell the food, and feel the texture of the crusty bread as your hungry character couldn’t wait for dinner, but ripped the end off the loaf? How about being able to hear the footsteps echoing up a stairwell? Or have someone walk through the snow, the wet cold seeping through her boots while she sticks out her tongue to taste the snowflakes? Writing that engages your readers’ senses draws your reader into your work. It helps the reader hear your voice clearly. It reinforces your tale and makes your characters more real. This workshop will take you through the five senses and start you on the road to using them effectively in your writing."
NOTE: I will be bringing chocolate. I may be bringing birthday cake (since 25 April just happens to be my birthday). If no-one wants to do my workshop, I shall take both to a quiet place and eat them all. By myself. Also, this is the live version of the course that got rave reviews from the ASFFWA. This is the only time I will be teaching it at Conflux.
10 pm Taboo subjects for authors - panel. I am the serious member of the panel who will try to argue for deep cultural taboos. I will also be the one with chocolate. When people fail to take my jokes seriously, I shall throw the chocolate. I have not yet told any of this to the other panellists.
Friday 26 April
12.30 pm Panel – The politics of steampunk. Where Richard Harland will be splendid and I will remain Gillian.
6 pm Book launch - Next (in which I have a story)
Saturday 27 April
11.30 am Using history to inspire fiction
Sunday 28 April
To be confirmed (you may not have to avoid me on Sunday!)
Note: I am a panellist. My name and bio are not yet on the list of panellists, for reasons unknown to almost everyone, but I'm definitely on the panels, for there has been Official Email Exchange.
Thursday 25 April -
12pm-3pm workshop Writing with the five senses
"Have you ever wanted to describe a feast where your readers can almost smell the food, and feel the texture of the crusty bread as your hungry character couldn’t wait for dinner, but ripped the end off the loaf? How about being able to hear the footsteps echoing up a stairwell? Or have someone walk through the snow, the wet cold seeping through her boots while she sticks out her tongue to taste the snowflakes? Writing that engages your readers’ senses draws your reader into your work. It helps the reader hear your voice clearly. It reinforces your tale and makes your characters more real. This workshop will take you through the five senses and start you on the road to using them effectively in your writing."
NOTE: I will be bringing chocolate. I may be bringing birthday cake (since 25 April just happens to be my birthday). If no-one wants to do my workshop, I shall take both to a quiet place and eat them all. By myself. Also, this is the live version of the course that got rave reviews from the ASFFWA. This is the only time I will be teaching it at Conflux.
10 pm Taboo subjects for authors - panel. I am the serious member of the panel who will try to argue for deep cultural taboos. I will also be the one with chocolate. When people fail to take my jokes seriously, I shall throw the chocolate. I have not yet told any of this to the other panellists.
Friday 26 April
12.30 pm Panel – The politics of steampunk. Where Richard Harland will be splendid and I will remain Gillian.
6 pm Book launch - Next (in which I have a story)
Saturday 27 April
11.30 am Using history to inspire fiction
Sunday 28 April
To be confirmed (you may not have to avoid me on Sunday!)
Note: I am a panellist. My name and bio are not yet on the list of panellists, for reasons unknown to almost everyone, but I'm definitely on the panels, for there has been Official Email Exchange.
gillpolack @ 2013-03-25T12:08:00
I need to sit for two minutes. This means you get cooking updates.
First, the good news. Mum remembers Great-Grandma adding a little matzah to her ulnik during Pesach. Since GG died before I was born, this is a handy memory, for I did wonder about the lack of flour.
The bad news is that I consulted with Mum about kneidlach. This is always an error. When I make them for myself sans consultation, they're perfect. When Mum makes them for herself, likewise. But when I make them with Mum's advice, they go wildly wrong. This is because we both cook by feel. Anyhow, my kneidlach are on, and are a vast mass of mixture all fragmented. I will cook it, but have absolutely no idea how I'm going to serve it. Maybe a couple of balls will survive?
First, the good news. Mum remembers Great-Grandma adding a little matzah to her ulnik during Pesach. Since GG died before I was born, this is a handy memory, for I did wonder about the lack of flour.
The bad news is that I consulted with Mum about kneidlach. This is always an error. When I make them for myself sans consultation, they're perfect. When Mum makes them for herself, likewise. But when I make them with Mum's advice, they go wildly wrong. This is because we both cook by feel. Anyhow, my kneidlach are on, and are a vast mass of mixture all fragmented. I will cook it, but have absolutely no idea how I'm going to serve it. Maybe a couple of balls will survive?
gillpolack @ 2013-03-25T09:42:00
Dessert is ready, my soup has its first vegetables and the eggs are boiling away. This sounds like the home stretch, but it isn't even close. Today's going to be a trifle frantic. I'm a lot better than I was this time last year, though, which is the big thing. I'm going to enjoy today.*
And now, your three recipes:
Chicken soup
Ingredients:
one big boiling chook and some feet (except we couldn't find any, so this year I used 10 chicken frames and a kilo of giblets)
2-3 onions
1 swede (optional)
2 carrots
2 parsnips
lots of celery leaf
seasoning to taste
Boil the heck out of the chicken in the biggest pot you have (mine is enormous - it took 12 litres of water to fill once the bones were in, but my mother now uses a smaller one successfully). My chicken simmered with the lid off for ten hours yesterday, sat while I was asleep and now is coming to the boil again. I topped up the water yesterday, but today I'm letting it reduce. Last night I skimmed the fat off; this morning (while the soup was warm rather than hot) I took the bones out.
Add your onions. Add your swede. Let it simmer for an hour or so. Add your carrots and parsnip. Let it simmer for an hour or so. Add your celery. Let it simmer for an hour or so. Add your seasoning. Let it simmer until you're ready to serve.
My soup has nine more hours, so the onions are in, and the swede, but nothing else. Serve with kneidlach/dumplings, or rice, or pasta or soup niblets.
Ulnik
This is basically baked potato latkes, sans raising agents or flour (though if I were making ulnik outside Pesach I might put both in).
Ingredients:
6 big potatoes (grated)
2 big onions or 3 small onions (grated)
1 big or two small eggs (not grated)
salt and pepper to taste
Oil
Mix everything. Cover a deep tray with a thin layer of oil (I'm using a disposable barbecue tray, to render my life less complicated.)
Bake in a moderate oven until the inside is cooked and the outside brown. How long this takes depends on the thickness of our mixture and the nature of your tray, so I can't give you times.
Charoseth
3 Granny Smith apples
3 golden delicious apples (this year I'm using red delicious, for goldens are not yet in season)
sweet wine (wine made from Concord grapes is good, so is Madeira - this year, however, I'm using either my own liqueur or a tokay, depending on how I feel when I make it)
cinnamon (lots - by lots, well, I bought 50g, which will mostly go)
ground almond (again lots, I bought 500 g but expect to have some left over)
Grate your apples finely. Add 1/2 cup of ground almond. Mix. If the mixture is like crumbly mortar, you have enough almond, if it isn't, keep adding until it is (apples contain different amount of moisture depending on where it is in the season and how long they've been sitting, so it's important to do this by texture, not exact measurement. The final dish should look like something you would slather between bricks: this is intentional, so don't try to prettify it.
Add some cinnamon. Add a splash of wine. Taste. Adjust the flavours (more almond, or more cinnamon or more wine). It will be perfect when it's one of the best tastes you've ever had, and not before. This normally takes more cinnamon than any right-minded person puts in a single dish, but it may only require 3 dollops of wine.
Most of the time we have different recipes for charoseth with no idea how the variants came about. Let me give you a couple of the reasons for what makes the Polack charoseth Polackian.
First, the flavour profile comes from the 19th century London part of the family ie it's got typically European ingredients but combined in a particular way. The family Christmas cake has this same profile. Family recipes are so much about taste memory.
Second, in my childhood, we has several fruit trees. The apple tree was grafted with different varieties and the two that were ready every Pesach were these two, so we worked out the best flavour for charoseth using Grannies and goldens.
Third, the wine: the Concord (uber-sweet) wine was, for a long time, one of the few ritual wines we could obtain in my childhood. Almost everything else tasted like something you wouldn't want me to describe, so the flavour balance was worked out with sweet and strong-flavoured wine, which resulted the family adding in more cinnamon and almond to balance it. I used to keep a bottle of the Concord on hand for teaching and for charoseth, but refused to use it for anything else. I got my comeuppance this year, for there was no Concord wine to buy! What is ironic about using wine made from Concord grapes is that they're a grape that has only been used by Jewish communities since 1492 (since well after 1492, actually, but that's the pivotal year for the chain of events that led to them being used).
Have a lovely Pesach, those who celebrate, whether you are alone or with family or/and friends.
*Except maybe the cleaning up. So much cleaning!
And now, your three recipes:
Chicken soup
Ingredients:
one big boiling chook and some feet (except we couldn't find any, so this year I used 10 chicken frames and a kilo of giblets)
2-3 onions
1 swede (optional)
2 carrots
2 parsnips
lots of celery leaf
seasoning to taste
Boil the heck out of the chicken in the biggest pot you have (mine is enormous - it took 12 litres of water to fill once the bones were in, but my mother now uses a smaller one successfully). My chicken simmered with the lid off for ten hours yesterday, sat while I was asleep and now is coming to the boil again. I topped up the water yesterday, but today I'm letting it reduce. Last night I skimmed the fat off; this morning (while the soup was warm rather than hot) I took the bones out.
Add your onions. Add your swede. Let it simmer for an hour or so. Add your carrots and parsnip. Let it simmer for an hour or so. Add your celery. Let it simmer for an hour or so. Add your seasoning. Let it simmer until you're ready to serve.
My soup has nine more hours, so the onions are in, and the swede, but nothing else. Serve with kneidlach/dumplings, or rice, or pasta or soup niblets.
Ulnik
This is basically baked potato latkes, sans raising agents or flour (though if I were making ulnik outside Pesach I might put both in).
Ingredients:
6 big potatoes (grated)
2 big onions or 3 small onions (grated)
1 big or two small eggs (not grated)
salt and pepper to taste
Oil
Mix everything. Cover a deep tray with a thin layer of oil (I'm using a disposable barbecue tray, to render my life less complicated.)
Bake in a moderate oven until the inside is cooked and the outside brown. How long this takes depends on the thickness of our mixture and the nature of your tray, so I can't give you times.
Charoseth
3 Granny Smith apples
3 golden delicious apples (this year I'm using red delicious, for goldens are not yet in season)
sweet wine (wine made from Concord grapes is good, so is Madeira - this year, however, I'm using either my own liqueur or a tokay, depending on how I feel when I make it)
cinnamon (lots - by lots, well, I bought 50g, which will mostly go)
ground almond (again lots, I bought 500 g but expect to have some left over)
Grate your apples finely. Add 1/2 cup of ground almond. Mix. If the mixture is like crumbly mortar, you have enough almond, if it isn't, keep adding until it is (apples contain different amount of moisture depending on where it is in the season and how long they've been sitting, so it's important to do this by texture, not exact measurement. The final dish should look like something you would slather between bricks: this is intentional, so don't try to prettify it.
Add some cinnamon. Add a splash of wine. Taste. Adjust the flavours (more almond, or more cinnamon or more wine). It will be perfect when it's one of the best tastes you've ever had, and not before. This normally takes more cinnamon than any right-minded person puts in a single dish, but it may only require 3 dollops of wine.
Most of the time we have different recipes for charoseth with no idea how the variants came about. Let me give you a couple of the reasons for what makes the Polack charoseth Polackian.
First, the flavour profile comes from the 19th century London part of the family ie it's got typically European ingredients but combined in a particular way. The family Christmas cake has this same profile. Family recipes are so much about taste memory.
Second, in my childhood, we has several fruit trees. The apple tree was grafted with different varieties and the two that were ready every Pesach were these two, so we worked out the best flavour for charoseth using Grannies and goldens.
Third, the wine: the Concord (uber-sweet) wine was, for a long time, one of the few ritual wines we could obtain in my childhood. Almost everything else tasted like something you wouldn't want me to describe, so the flavour balance was worked out with sweet and strong-flavoured wine, which resulted the family adding in more cinnamon and almond to balance it. I used to keep a bottle of the Concord on hand for teaching and for charoseth, but refused to use it for anything else. I got my comeuppance this year, for there was no Concord wine to buy! What is ironic about using wine made from Concord grapes is that they're a grape that has only been used by Jewish communities since 1492 (since well after 1492, actually, but that's the pivotal year for the chain of events that led to them being used).
Have a lovely Pesach, those who celebrate, whether you are alone or with family or/and friends.
*Except maybe the cleaning up. So much cleaning!
March 23, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-03-24T14:45:00
It's a tween day. I have maybe ten small work tasks and maybe two larger ones and I need to improve the state of my living areas drastically, ready for Passover. It's also a high pain day, since my magic new drug turns out to give me rather interesting side effects and I need to consult with my doctor about a substitute, and that has to wait until I can actually get to the doctor for the night before Pesach is not a good time to spend many hours in close communion with my bathroom*. What this means is that I do one thing or two things and then I rest. One thing or two things sitting and then one thing or two things moving. It's very unplanned, but by tonight I may feel as if I'm getting stuff done. Right now, however, I feel a bit overwhelmed. That's why I'm taking a blogging break.
Nothing ever comes together magically for first night seder. It's all a lot of hard work. That's the other underside of not being able to spend the time with family (for it's teaching time and I would have to leave first day Pesach and that would upset family - it's emotionally better not to go down at all, than to leave too soon) - my Canberra family (a few of my close friends) are helping with the dinner itself (for I've given up on keeping glatt kosher and now am semi kosher for Pesach) but I still have to get the place ready and sort comestibles and finish comestibles and clean and clean and clean. And it's not as much fun alone, so I don't do as much as I ought to, and I feel guilty and Mum assures me that doing as much as I reasonably can is quite sufficient, for Judaism doesn't put duty above health. But...
Also it's term time. March is one of the two busiest months of the year, for everyone wants the second half year courses settled and there are publications that may or may not be happening and there's teaching and I always seem to be on the back foot. March in a year when Pesach is early, however, is both more and less. It's more work, that's for certain. But it's also less frustrating, for I have no choice but to keep up with things. I just don't have time to angst about the biscuits I didn't make last Wednesday and will just deal with having some flour left - I was going to make the biscuits today, for my neighbours, but they dropped round yesterday to say they were leaving for Zimbabwe tomorrow, so they won't want them. That's one bit more chametz in the flat, which is bad, but one less thing to do, which is good.
Do you get the impression that this week is one of great confusion? It is. But the chicken soup is on*, dessert for tomorrow is made, I just realised that I don't have to kasher a grater for my new machine went unused because of health issues so my charoseth is going to take minutes rather than a half hour and I can think of maybe making ulnik in memory of my great-grandmother (instead of roast potato) for I have much potato and onion and a good sized aluminium baking dish and I have ten minutes work to do on a novel before it gets to its next destination*** and the rubbish is piling up and up and the kitchen sink is overflowing. These are all signs that some resolution will start to appear later tonight (my estimate is in about 8 hours, if I keep on going at this pace) and then I'll know what I'm doing.
What's most important, oddly, is that the pain today isn't as bad as the month before last. It responds to pain relievers. They're rather hefty pain relievers, but before the new medication, it didn't respond to anything. This means that almost anything is possible, as long as I take my time and don't worry too much if my brain is a bit tangled. Which it quite obviously is.
My question to you is if any of you want family recipes? On offer today are chicken soup (without the kneidlach recipe, for I don't think I've ever actually used a recipe for kneidlach, or any of these dishes, but I play around with the kneidlach a lot), charoseth and ulnik. The chicken soup method is very classic and the charoseth one is very, very Polack and rather alcoholic.
*it's very cleansing, but it gets in the way of work
**proper chicken soup takes at least 24 hours to make, and chicken soup is one thing that I won't compromise on
***and quite probably another 6 years before it sees print - this is the life of the quirky niche writer, but if I wrote more mainstream work, I wouldn't enjoy the writing and if I don't enjoy the writing, I might as well give up getting things published, for the game won't be worth the effort
Nothing ever comes together magically for first night seder. It's all a lot of hard work. That's the other underside of not being able to spend the time with family (for it's teaching time and I would have to leave first day Pesach and that would upset family - it's emotionally better not to go down at all, than to leave too soon) - my Canberra family (a few of my close friends) are helping with the dinner itself (for I've given up on keeping glatt kosher and now am semi kosher for Pesach) but I still have to get the place ready and sort comestibles and finish comestibles and clean and clean and clean. And it's not as much fun alone, so I don't do as much as I ought to, and I feel guilty and Mum assures me that doing as much as I reasonably can is quite sufficient, for Judaism doesn't put duty above health. But...
Also it's term time. March is one of the two busiest months of the year, for everyone wants the second half year courses settled and there are publications that may or may not be happening and there's teaching and I always seem to be on the back foot. March in a year when Pesach is early, however, is both more and less. It's more work, that's for certain. But it's also less frustrating, for I have no choice but to keep up with things. I just don't have time to angst about the biscuits I didn't make last Wednesday and will just deal with having some flour left - I was going to make the biscuits today, for my neighbours, but they dropped round yesterday to say they were leaving for Zimbabwe tomorrow, so they won't want them. That's one bit more chametz in the flat, which is bad, but one less thing to do, which is good.
Do you get the impression that this week is one of great confusion? It is. But the chicken soup is on*, dessert for tomorrow is made, I just realised that I don't have to kasher a grater for my new machine went unused because of health issues so my charoseth is going to take minutes rather than a half hour and I can think of maybe making ulnik in memory of my great-grandmother (instead of roast potato) for I have much potato and onion and a good sized aluminium baking dish and I have ten minutes work to do on a novel before it gets to its next destination*** and the rubbish is piling up and up and the kitchen sink is overflowing. These are all signs that some resolution will start to appear later tonight (my estimate is in about 8 hours, if I keep on going at this pace) and then I'll know what I'm doing.
What's most important, oddly, is that the pain today isn't as bad as the month before last. It responds to pain relievers. They're rather hefty pain relievers, but before the new medication, it didn't respond to anything. This means that almost anything is possible, as long as I take my time and don't worry too much if my brain is a bit tangled. Which it quite obviously is.
My question to you is if any of you want family recipes? On offer today are chicken soup (without the kneidlach recipe, for I don't think I've ever actually used a recipe for kneidlach, or any of these dishes, but I play around with the kneidlach a lot), charoseth and ulnik. The chicken soup method is very classic and the charoseth one is very, very Polack and rather alcoholic.
*it's very cleansing, but it gets in the way of work
**proper chicken soup takes at least 24 hours to make, and chicken soup is one thing that I won't compromise on
***and quite probably another 6 years before it sees print - this is the life of the quirky niche writer, but if I wrote more mainstream work, I wouldn't enjoy the writing and if I don't enjoy the writing, I might as well give up getting things published, for the game won't be worth the effort
Women's History Month - Faye Ringel
Today's guest is Faye Ringel, Professor Emerita of Humanities at the U.S. Coast Guard Academy. She's also a fan. I want to say, ponderously, "This is her story," but it's only a small part of a very rich trove of memories. She and Sherwood Smith have the best stories of almost anyone.
The seventies fandom that Faye describes is the one that led to my first SF publication: her stories always help me understand my own fannish history, even though we're not at all close geographically. I'm part of the next demographic bulge, and Faye's memories help me make sense of my own.
I am a fan, I am a life-long reader of the genres of the fantastic from myth to SF to fantasy to horror, I am an academic critic of the fantastic, and I am a woman. There are lots of other parts to my identity but the above will do for starters. Thank you, Gillian, for inviting me to share my memories.
Memories of fannish life have been rising to the surface recently: first thanks to Facebook, which has re-connected me with fans I knew in the 70s, more urgently thanks to Boskone which recently observed its 50th convention. As part of the commemoration, I moderated a panel of Boskone memories with such luminaries as Secret Master of World Fantasy David Hartwell, artist Bob Eggleton, and British super-fan Peter Weston. The only other person of the female persuasion scheduled was Editor Extraordinaire Ellen Asher, and she bailed out (I never did find out why). The audience was heavily weighted toward the male side, too. As one might expect.
Unlike Hartwell, I have not attended all 50 Boskones, but my first one was in 1970 and I’ve attended a total of 34 or 35, so I guess that does make me a veteran fan. My first encounter with organized fandom, however, was not a convention but the Tolkien Society of America (which later merged with the Mythopoeic Society). I discovered the Tolkien Society because its founder, Dick Plotz, published an interview with J.R.R. Tolkien in Seventeen Magazine (of all places) and this in turn led him to 15 minutes of fame in the New York Times. So about 1967-8, I joined, received mimeo’d fanzines, wrote letters—and founded an unofficial chapter at my high school. The most active people in the Tolkien Society were all male, but it may be significant that Seventeen acknowledged the existence of Tolkien, for suddenly, young women were emerging as the major readers—and later writers—of fantasy. It’s no coincidence that there’s a demographic bulge among women writers of the fantastic who came of age in the 60s and have devoted themselves to the genre ever since.
So many things began with the Tolkien boom of the 60s, at least as I experienced it in America. Overnight, treasures of fantastic literature long out of print were available at corner newsstands for less than a dollar. Having just completed an article on Lord Dunsany for a volume edited by S.T. Joshi, I’m gazing right now at my copy of The King of Elfland’s Daughter, with its “Unicorn’s Head/ Adult Fantasy” emblem. The book—both the physical object and Dunsany’s romance—have survived well. I wish my memories of acquiring and reading this first paperback edition were as intact—but I do remember the thrill of finding gems like this one in a cigar store. No, really: there were such things in downtown Norwich in those days, selling paperback books, newspapers, and cigars. I would be sent to fetch cigarettes for my parents, which they would sell to underage me along with pulp fiction which had absorbed the tobacco odors. Think of it: Eddison, James Branch Cabell, William Morris, Dunsany, and Lovecraft’s Dunsanian Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath—right there next to the Mickey Spillanes and other pulp classics.
But returning to Tolkien: with the support of my small group of fellow-fans in the Tolkien Society, I pledged to do something Tolkien-esque for my junior-year Honors English class. Thus began a pattern that continued all the way through graduate school of attempting to convince reluctant and downright violently-opposed teachers that Tolkien and fantasy for adults were worthy of serious attention. Actually, the high-school English teacher was the easiest to win over: for her, I proposed nothing less than a full-length musical version of The Lord of the Rings. And reader, I did it.
The songs were a combination of settings of Tolkien’s verse and original lyrics. The music was not bad—though I say it as shouldn’t. It has stood the test of time reasonably well. And the libretto—would you believe that I made many of the same choices of cuts, combinations, and additions that Peter Jackson did? Almost word-for-word in the Council of Elrond scene. So, that was spring 1968. After graduation, in the summer of 1969, I convinced the theater group at the Thorn Coffeehouse where I hung out (Norwich’s nickname is “The Rose of New England”) to stage The Enemy’s Ring (yep. I changed the title, knowing even then that what we were doing was illegal). We accomplished miracles with a tiny coffeehouse stage—just about everything happened offstage. I figured that if messengers reporting major events worked for Greek tragedy and Shakespeare, why not for me? Our special effects guy outdid himself: He blew up a science-project volcano and model tower and filmed it, juxtaposing the film with slides of Mordor as Frodo stood in a strobe light throwing the Ring in the fire, while I played the piano. We blew a fuse with all those electrical appliances going at once.
In some ways, my life has never again reached that peak, the performances of which happened (by coincidence) the same weekend as Woodstock. I had convinced skeptics who had never read Tolkien to love the characters and the drama as much as I did. And I had won over audiences who were equally unfamiliar with the author and the genre. Actors were saying my words, singers were singing my songs—and they were Tolkien’s as well. It’s been pretty much downhill ever since.
I did manage to write my doctoral dissertation (defended in 1978) on medieval and neo-medieval romance and epic fantasy, covering Chretien de Troyes, Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Huon de Bordeaux, and Amadis de Gaula juxtaposed with Morris, Dunsany, and Tolkien. My advisors warned me that I would never publish it and never find a teaching job. They were almost right, but that’s another long story. As for the publishing—I’ve come full circle. A few months ago, S.T. Joshi remembered that dissertation and asked me to write something based on the Dunsany piece—which I just did.
So what does all this have to do with women’s history month? Well, I’m a woman, and if all the above ain’t history, I don’t know what is.
The seventies fandom that Faye describes is the one that led to my first SF publication: her stories always help me understand my own fannish history, even though we're not at all close geographically. I'm part of the next demographic bulge, and Faye's memories help me make sense of my own.
I am a fan, I am a life-long reader of the genres of the fantastic from myth to SF to fantasy to horror, I am an academic critic of the fantastic, and I am a woman. There are lots of other parts to my identity but the above will do for starters. Thank you, Gillian, for inviting me to share my memories.
Memories of fannish life have been rising to the surface recently: first thanks to Facebook, which has re-connected me with fans I knew in the 70s, more urgently thanks to Boskone which recently observed its 50th convention. As part of the commemoration, I moderated a panel of Boskone memories with such luminaries as Secret Master of World Fantasy David Hartwell, artist Bob Eggleton, and British super-fan Peter Weston. The only other person of the female persuasion scheduled was Editor Extraordinaire Ellen Asher, and she bailed out (I never did find out why). The audience was heavily weighted toward the male side, too. As one might expect.
Unlike Hartwell, I have not attended all 50 Boskones, but my first one was in 1970 and I’ve attended a total of 34 or 35, so I guess that does make me a veteran fan. My first encounter with organized fandom, however, was not a convention but the Tolkien Society of America (which later merged with the Mythopoeic Society). I discovered the Tolkien Society because its founder, Dick Plotz, published an interview with J.R.R. Tolkien in Seventeen Magazine (of all places) and this in turn led him to 15 minutes of fame in the New York Times. So about 1967-8, I joined, received mimeo’d fanzines, wrote letters—and founded an unofficial chapter at my high school. The most active people in the Tolkien Society were all male, but it may be significant that Seventeen acknowledged the existence of Tolkien, for suddenly, young women were emerging as the major readers—and later writers—of fantasy. It’s no coincidence that there’s a demographic bulge among women writers of the fantastic who came of age in the 60s and have devoted themselves to the genre ever since.
So many things began with the Tolkien boom of the 60s, at least as I experienced it in America. Overnight, treasures of fantastic literature long out of print were available at corner newsstands for less than a dollar. Having just completed an article on Lord Dunsany for a volume edited by S.T. Joshi, I’m gazing right now at my copy of The King of Elfland’s Daughter, with its “Unicorn’s Head/ Adult Fantasy” emblem. The book—both the physical object and Dunsany’s romance—have survived well. I wish my memories of acquiring and reading this first paperback edition were as intact—but I do remember the thrill of finding gems like this one in a cigar store. No, really: there were such things in downtown Norwich in those days, selling paperback books, newspapers, and cigars. I would be sent to fetch cigarettes for my parents, which they would sell to underage me along with pulp fiction which had absorbed the tobacco odors. Think of it: Eddison, James Branch Cabell, William Morris, Dunsany, and Lovecraft’s Dunsanian Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath—right there next to the Mickey Spillanes and other pulp classics.
But returning to Tolkien: with the support of my small group of fellow-fans in the Tolkien Society, I pledged to do something Tolkien-esque for my junior-year Honors English class. Thus began a pattern that continued all the way through graduate school of attempting to convince reluctant and downright violently-opposed teachers that Tolkien and fantasy for adults were worthy of serious attention. Actually, the high-school English teacher was the easiest to win over: for her, I proposed nothing less than a full-length musical version of The Lord of the Rings. And reader, I did it.
The songs were a combination of settings of Tolkien’s verse and original lyrics. The music was not bad—though I say it as shouldn’t. It has stood the test of time reasonably well. And the libretto—would you believe that I made many of the same choices of cuts, combinations, and additions that Peter Jackson did? Almost word-for-word in the Council of Elrond scene. So, that was spring 1968. After graduation, in the summer of 1969, I convinced the theater group at the Thorn Coffeehouse where I hung out (Norwich’s nickname is “The Rose of New England”) to stage The Enemy’s Ring (yep. I changed the title, knowing even then that what we were doing was illegal). We accomplished miracles with a tiny coffeehouse stage—just about everything happened offstage. I figured that if messengers reporting major events worked for Greek tragedy and Shakespeare, why not for me? Our special effects guy outdid himself: He blew up a science-project volcano and model tower and filmed it, juxtaposing the film with slides of Mordor as Frodo stood in a strobe light throwing the Ring in the fire, while I played the piano. We blew a fuse with all those electrical appliances going at once.
In some ways, my life has never again reached that peak, the performances of which happened (by coincidence) the same weekend as Woodstock. I had convinced skeptics who had never read Tolkien to love the characters and the drama as much as I did. And I had won over audiences who were equally unfamiliar with the author and the genre. Actors were saying my words, singers were singing my songs—and they were Tolkien’s as well. It’s been pretty much downhill ever since.
I did manage to write my doctoral dissertation (defended in 1978) on medieval and neo-medieval romance and epic fantasy, covering Chretien de Troyes, Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Huon de Bordeaux, and Amadis de Gaula juxtaposed with Morris, Dunsany, and Tolkien. My advisors warned me that I would never publish it and never find a teaching job. They were almost right, but that’s another long story. As for the publishing—I’ve come full circle. A few months ago, S.T. Joshi remembered that dissertation and asked me to write something based on the Dunsany piece—which I just did.
So what does all this have to do with women’s history month? Well, I’m a woman, and if all the above ain’t history, I don’t know what is.
March 22, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-03-22T19:23:00
I'm still much the worse for wear, but improvement is in sight. My dental work went well, and the anaesthetic is wearing off. Today I got to make Star Trek jokes, for it appears that most of my crowns are lithium disilicate (which is obviously just another name for dilithium and so I can power starships from my mouth) and the one from today (as it is a lesser being) is merely a bunch of false diamonds (zirconia something).
The rest of the day has been spent feeling sorry for myself and meeting my innumerable deadlines. The difference between earlier in the day and now is that the pain reliever actually seems to be working. I could have gone to the quiz night (I cancelled - I was too under the weather) - but I didn't know this until two minutes ago, and it's better to get the work finished and have an early night and be less of a mess tomorrow. Also, this is the pain reliever talking and I will be sorry for myself again in a few hours, so it's best to stay in and do work.
My reaction to the flu vaccine is entirely charming, but it least I didn't have it and then have to deal with the tooth. I shall sleep the sleep of the healthily-prevented-from-danger tonight and shall dream of powering starships.
The rest of the day has been spent feeling sorry for myself and meeting my innumerable deadlines. The difference between earlier in the day and now is that the pain reliever actually seems to be working. I could have gone to the quiz night (I cancelled - I was too under the weather) - but I didn't know this until two minutes ago, and it's better to get the work finished and have an early night and be less of a mess tomorrow. Also, this is the pain reliever talking and I will be sorry for myself again in a few hours, so it's best to stay in and do work.
My reaction to the flu vaccine is entirely charming, but it least I didn't have it and then have to deal with the tooth. I shall sleep the sleep of the healthily-prevented-from-danger tonight and shall dream of powering starships.
March 21, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-03-22T10:33:00
Between flu vaccine* and deadlines** and thunderstorms*** I forgot to blog.
I did most of my shopping for Passover (for I had help) and discovered that the manager of Coles Manuka's heart is in the right place, but, yet again, he failed to order most things in time. I have matzah and I got the last packets of matzah meal and I'll be OK, but the visitor from the UK who was trying to work out Australian brands (Tempo is kosher, I assured her, but the range you're looking at is not kosher for Passover) was forced to take today off and go all the way to Sydney. Now, Sydney's close by Australian standards, but it's a return 7 hour drive and that's a long way to go for simple foodstuffs. I would have been happier if the manager had put the order in on time.
I spent quite a bit of yesterday watching Season 4 of Castle. No brainwork was involved (unless you count laughing at geekjokes) and I wasn't really sick, just hurting and unable to do anything, so that worked well. I had to cancel my tonight's going-out, however, and this afternoon is all about more dental work.
This morning then, is about deadlines. I keep telling my deadlines "I do feel better for the bedrest - let me have some more." My body keeps telling my deadlines "I do feel better for the bedrest - let me have some more." But the people at the other end of each and every deadline will be away next week, so I have to do everything today.
And in real news (for today we have real news), I had a chat with Trivium Publishing yesterday. I was beginning to realise that the cursed novel had become an albatross. Illuminations' tour came just after the Twin Towers (I was watching the West Wing and a news flash came up and I raced online and my TP friends were scarcely awake and we sat through the whole thing, aghast) so we've been through a lot together. The curse needs its own novel, I think. To write it I'd have to learn about hurricanes and earthquakes and evacuation and the insides of hospitals and two continents and six different types of computer death.
I love TP and will hopefully be able to publish something else with them, one day, but The Art of Effective Dreaming is now looking for a new home. This is very sad, for it was their reaction to it originally that changed the way I saw my writing and changed the way I saw myself. Those few weeks in the US on tour will always be some of the best few weeks of my life. They taught me so much about my writing, about who I am, about why footnotes are impossible for typesetters, why small press was the best place for my first novel, and much more.
I haven't lost the friendships from the experience and I still have one novel with them (Illuminations). I can't think of anyone better than TP to have been with for those difficult years and I'm very sorry that my daft quest/portal fantasy won't come out through them. One day, they'll publish something else of mine if I'm lucky.
The folks at TP remain close friends and very important to me - and I wish that the curse hadn't been so very strong and prevented them from introducing Fay to everyone.
*to which I have substantial reaction
**I met most - the rest are happening this morning
thankfully past, but they ate up a large chunk of my yesterday
I did most of my shopping for Passover (for I had help) and discovered that the manager of Coles Manuka's heart is in the right place, but, yet again, he failed to order most things in time. I have matzah and I got the last packets of matzah meal and I'll be OK, but the visitor from the UK who was trying to work out Australian brands (Tempo is kosher, I assured her, but the range you're looking at is not kosher for Passover) was forced to take today off and go all the way to Sydney. Now, Sydney's close by Australian standards, but it's a return 7 hour drive and that's a long way to go for simple foodstuffs. I would have been happier if the manager had put the order in on time.
I spent quite a bit of yesterday watching Season 4 of Castle. No brainwork was involved (unless you count laughing at geekjokes) and I wasn't really sick, just hurting and unable to do anything, so that worked well. I had to cancel my tonight's going-out, however, and this afternoon is all about more dental work.
This morning then, is about deadlines. I keep telling my deadlines "I do feel better for the bedrest - let me have some more." My body keeps telling my deadlines "I do feel better for the bedrest - let me have some more." But the people at the other end of each and every deadline will be away next week, so I have to do everything today.
And in real news (for today we have real news), I had a chat with Trivium Publishing yesterday. I was beginning to realise that the cursed novel had become an albatross. Illuminations' tour came just after the Twin Towers (I was watching the West Wing and a news flash came up and I raced online and my TP friends were scarcely awake and we sat through the whole thing, aghast) so we've been through a lot together. The curse needs its own novel, I think. To write it I'd have to learn about hurricanes and earthquakes and evacuation and the insides of hospitals and two continents and six different types of computer death.
I love TP and will hopefully be able to publish something else with them, one day, but The Art of Effective Dreaming is now looking for a new home. This is very sad, for it was their reaction to it originally that changed the way I saw my writing and changed the way I saw myself. Those few weeks in the US on tour will always be some of the best few weeks of my life. They taught me so much about my writing, about who I am, about why footnotes are impossible for typesetters, why small press was the best place for my first novel, and much more.
I haven't lost the friendships from the experience and I still have one novel with them (Illuminations). I can't think of anyone better than TP to have been with for those difficult years and I'm very sorry that my daft quest/portal fantasy won't come out through them. One day, they'll publish something else of mine if I'm lucky.
The folks at TP remain close friends and very important to me - and I wish that the curse hadn't been so very strong and prevented them from introducing Fay to everyone.
*to which I have substantial reaction
**I met most - the rest are happening this morning
thankfully past, but they ate up a large chunk of my yesterday
Women's History Month - Sharyn Lilley (part 2)
This is where Sharyn talks about joining regular fandom...but in her own way.
What fascinates me about this section of her story as fan is that she's only developed a small part of fan vocabulary. The purplezone has, over the years, established its own language and myths, and that is where Sharyn's shared language comes from and it's a strong enough group for the language to hold, even when purplezoners meet fans from other areas. It's very much an Australian group, being an online BB for an Australian publisher. What's also interesting is that the PZ language is far more food-oriented than most and is very much a women's discourse. It's a lovely example of the changes in fandom from the late 1990s and how they created spaces for women, or how women created spaces for themselves within them. In fact, Sharyn's experience chronicles one line of changes in Australian fandom since the 1999 AussieCon. Even though her first convention was much later, convention-based fandom triggered these changes in her life.
Rural Fandom in the Noughties
I didn’t have much truck with this modern nonsense – computers were just another thing for nerds, and seemed more trouble than they were worth. I scoffed at those who spent hours on their Atari’s – I had a real life. And then my kids started using them at school, and still I scoffed. Give me a typewriter; you didn’t get blue screens of death with a good old typewriter. Computers didn’t enter my home til late in the year 2000. I had already written my first novel, started on my second, and was three quarters of my way through a Creative Writing course, writing stories for children when I couldn’t get a ribbon for my good old typewriter.
“People just aren’t using them anymore,” the office supplies guy told me, “I’ll order you some in.” I huffed and puffed, and sighed quite a bit, but I came home with a computer. No, of course I didn’t let the sales guy talk me into buying the most expensive model. For all my scoffing, I had spent a good chunk of time the previous two years going into electronics stores, and talking to technicians. I knew which brand would best suit my family’s needs, and besides, it’d be good for the kids’ future education, right? This was how it was going to be, and I had just better get used to it.
So I re-typed my novel and my course work, sent the novel off to a publisher, and kept working on the second novel. The publisher (Challenger Books) accepted it. From technophobe noob to e-published in a few months ... yeah, I was still a technophobe noob. I joined the ACJ Kids Writers group on eCircles, and started talking to other people who had done the same course I had, and we cheered each other on with our writing. My marriage broke down slowly, but I was becoming more vocal about my love for speculative fiction. Challenger Books, like many of the first people venturing into e-publishing, closed down a year later, but to have made any money at all on a children’s’ sci-fi e-book back then was a rarity. I still think I should have framed that cheque.
I had also kept reading, and I found this book by an Australian author whose style I really liked; Treason Keep by Jennifer Fallon. I liked her style so much I typed in the url on the back cover, and met the then residents of Harper Collins’ Voyager online site (often referred to fondly as the purple zone) I discovered just how many other people like me were out there: booksellers who were introducing new readers to the worlds of spec fic; authors who were writing the books I loved to read; want to be authors; debut authors; IT specialists who discussed Cold Fusion; archaeology students; astrophysics students. But the one thing about us all was that we all loved to read spec fic. I met my future husband in the purple zone, and most of the people who came to our wedding, and to our sons’ christening (the real Voyager babies: Baby J, Baby Two, and Bump), were purple zoners but I’m getting ahead of myself. From meeting these people online, I attended my first Convention, Conflux, which just happened to be Natcon that year.
We drove the four hours to Canberra and stayed with friends who we had, of course, met through the Purplezone. I admit I was a bit nervous about showing up, my early experiences of not fitting in worried me, and the first person I saw when we walked into the hotel was wearing a bright blue velvet cape. ‘Oh my god, he’s wearing a cape’ almost instantly became ‘How cool, he’s wearing a cape!!!’ I smiled and relaxed, even if I didn’t know them, these people spoke my language. I did notice one thing though, there were a lot of middle aged women, like myself, at the Con – where were the books for us?
From the purple zone I found my way to LiveJournal, at first just to keep up with my pz friends, but I met more and more people to whom reading and writing spec fic was as natural as breathing, and that lead to an out of the blue request to co-edit an anthology. I ummed and ahhed over this, I had no formal qualifications, but eventually my enthusiasm for the project over-rode my cautions, and I looked at making a grading template similar to one I had seen used well on the Del Rey writers crit group (now the Online Writers Workshop) that highlighted the strengths and weaknesses of each submission. That anthology led to the creation of Eneit Press, and while it was short-lived, I am very proud of the work that little press put out there. For example, Life Through Cellophane by Gillian Polack, was the only short-listed work by a small press in the Best Novel category the year it was eligible, and it was also reader nominated for the James Tiptree Awards. My thought about there being room for books where the POV character is neither male, nor a young, sassy and beautiful heroine, seemed to hold water.
But back in the land of LJ - Flycon came about owing to a throwaway line in a conversation on Sherwood’s lj talking about how many different conventions there were around the world, and how the tyranny of distance meant most of us could never get to them. In this particular case we were talking about Worldcon. “I wish there was a way we could have a real online convention,” Sherwood said, “But most of the fun bits come from the socialising between panels.” Now fandom on the scale of the Internet was new to me, but I was used to committees and knew the sheer hard work required to keep even a local book club going, so it wasn’t without trepidation that I replied “Well, if you are serious, I know how it could be done.”
What fascinates me about this section of her story as fan is that she's only developed a small part of fan vocabulary. The purplezone has, over the years, established its own language and myths, and that is where Sharyn's shared language comes from and it's a strong enough group for the language to hold, even when purplezoners meet fans from other areas. It's very much an Australian group, being an online BB for an Australian publisher. What's also interesting is that the PZ language is far more food-oriented than most and is very much a women's discourse. It's a lovely example of the changes in fandom from the late 1990s and how they created spaces for women, or how women created spaces for themselves within them. In fact, Sharyn's experience chronicles one line of changes in Australian fandom since the 1999 AussieCon. Even though her first convention was much later, convention-based fandom triggered these changes in her life.
Rural Fandom in the Noughties
I didn’t have much truck with this modern nonsense – computers were just another thing for nerds, and seemed more trouble than they were worth. I scoffed at those who spent hours on their Atari’s – I had a real life. And then my kids started using them at school, and still I scoffed. Give me a typewriter; you didn’t get blue screens of death with a good old typewriter. Computers didn’t enter my home til late in the year 2000. I had already written my first novel, started on my second, and was three quarters of my way through a Creative Writing course, writing stories for children when I couldn’t get a ribbon for my good old typewriter.
“People just aren’t using them anymore,” the office supplies guy told me, “I’ll order you some in.” I huffed and puffed, and sighed quite a bit, but I came home with a computer. No, of course I didn’t let the sales guy talk me into buying the most expensive model. For all my scoffing, I had spent a good chunk of time the previous two years going into electronics stores, and talking to technicians. I knew which brand would best suit my family’s needs, and besides, it’d be good for the kids’ future education, right? This was how it was going to be, and I had just better get used to it.
So I re-typed my novel and my course work, sent the novel off to a publisher, and kept working on the second novel. The publisher (Challenger Books) accepted it. From technophobe noob to e-published in a few months ... yeah, I was still a technophobe noob. I joined the ACJ Kids Writers group on eCircles, and started talking to other people who had done the same course I had, and we cheered each other on with our writing. My marriage broke down slowly, but I was becoming more vocal about my love for speculative fiction. Challenger Books, like many of the first people venturing into e-publishing, closed down a year later, but to have made any money at all on a children’s’ sci-fi e-book back then was a rarity. I still think I should have framed that cheque.
I had also kept reading, and I found this book by an Australian author whose style I really liked; Treason Keep by Jennifer Fallon. I liked her style so much I typed in the url on the back cover, and met the then residents of Harper Collins’ Voyager online site (often referred to fondly as the purple zone) I discovered just how many other people like me were out there: booksellers who were introducing new readers to the worlds of spec fic; authors who were writing the books I loved to read; want to be authors; debut authors; IT specialists who discussed Cold Fusion; archaeology students; astrophysics students. But the one thing about us all was that we all loved to read spec fic. I met my future husband in the purple zone, and most of the people who came to our wedding, and to our sons’ christening (the real Voyager babies: Baby J, Baby Two, and Bump), were purple zoners but I’m getting ahead of myself. From meeting these people online, I attended my first Convention, Conflux, which just happened to be Natcon that year.
We drove the four hours to Canberra and stayed with friends who we had, of course, met through the Purplezone. I admit I was a bit nervous about showing up, my early experiences of not fitting in worried me, and the first person I saw when we walked into the hotel was wearing a bright blue velvet cape. ‘Oh my god, he’s wearing a cape’ almost instantly became ‘How cool, he’s wearing a cape!!!’ I smiled and relaxed, even if I didn’t know them, these people spoke my language. I did notice one thing though, there were a lot of middle aged women, like myself, at the Con – where were the books for us?
From the purple zone I found my way to LiveJournal, at first just to keep up with my pz friends, but I met more and more people to whom reading and writing spec fic was as natural as breathing, and that lead to an out of the blue request to co-edit an anthology. I ummed and ahhed over this, I had no formal qualifications, but eventually my enthusiasm for the project over-rode my cautions, and I looked at making a grading template similar to one I had seen used well on the Del Rey writers crit group (now the Online Writers Workshop) that highlighted the strengths and weaknesses of each submission. That anthology led to the creation of Eneit Press, and while it was short-lived, I am very proud of the work that little press put out there. For example, Life Through Cellophane by Gillian Polack, was the only short-listed work by a small press in the Best Novel category the year it was eligible, and it was also reader nominated for the James Tiptree Awards. My thought about there being room for books where the POV character is neither male, nor a young, sassy and beautiful heroine, seemed to hold water.
But back in the land of LJ - Flycon came about owing to a throwaway line in a conversation on Sherwood’s lj talking about how many different conventions there were around the world, and how the tyranny of distance meant most of us could never get to them. In this particular case we were talking about Worldcon. “I wish there was a way we could have a real online convention,” Sherwood said, “But most of the fun bits come from the socialising between panels.” Now fandom on the scale of the Internet was new to me, but I was used to committees and knew the sheer hard work required to keep even a local book club going, so it wasn’t without trepidation that I replied “Well, if you are serious, I know how it could be done.”
March 20, 2013
gillpolack @ 2013-03-20T21:58:00
Today was impossibly busy, which is why I'm late to blogging. I'm supposed to be doing something else, but have one of those moments when life is about to happen but hasn't quite decided on when, so here I am, about to chronicle a long day.
I taught, which is a good thing. I thought I was not at my best (and we were all a bit grumpy, for no good reason) but my students told me they enjoyed it as we were packing up. I think this is the advantage of having students who understand that not all days are good, to be honest, rather than any skills of mine. This morning was the last hoorah (well, I hope it was the last hoorah) of the unwellness that's been plaguing me these last few weeks. I've been eating properly since lunchtime and will know by morning if that was a mistake.
I'm still rather tired. 'Rather' refers to the extreme version, Fatigue as an extreme sport. I've had my flu shot, though, been to the library and the chemist and promised all sorts of exciting documents for different people's desks tomorrow, and I found my reading glasses. I've done a bit of work, but not nearly as much as I should. That's OK, though, for the deadlines are tomorrow and I will catch up, for I must. This is my philosophy of the day.
Also, I found a spatchcock in my freezer. It was going to be Friday's dinner, but then friends invited me to their place. I shall unfreeze it for tomorrow, and have it with lime and with coriander and with rice, for all these things need finishing.
And now, I ought to work...
I taught, which is a good thing. I thought I was not at my best (and we were all a bit grumpy, for no good reason) but my students told me they enjoyed it as we were packing up. I think this is the advantage of having students who understand that not all days are good, to be honest, rather than any skills of mine. This morning was the last hoorah (well, I hope it was the last hoorah) of the unwellness that's been plaguing me these last few weeks. I've been eating properly since lunchtime and will know by morning if that was a mistake.
I'm still rather tired. 'Rather' refers to the extreme version, Fatigue as an extreme sport. I've had my flu shot, though, been to the library and the chemist and promised all sorts of exciting documents for different people's desks tomorrow, and I found my reading glasses. I've done a bit of work, but not nearly as much as I should. That's OK, though, for the deadlines are tomorrow and I will catch up, for I must. This is my philosophy of the day.
Also, I found a spatchcock in my freezer. It was going to be Friday's dinner, but then friends invited me to their place. I shall unfreeze it for tomorrow, and have it with lime and with coriander and with rice, for all these things need finishing.
And now, I ought to work...
