Snow picture

Abi said she wanted to see snow pictures of Durham, so here's a snow picture. It includes an awful poem by Sir Walter Scott about how much he loves 'mixed and massive piles'. Whatever, Walt.

Durham photos

Finally got round to taking my camera for a walk.

This is the History Department

House and Housesteads

This is my mascot at the kitchen window. I was going to put him at the front of the house but I was afraid people might think I was some kind of flag-waving nationalist, and I'm never going to make that mistake again.

I found this pot in a charity shop and was instantly smitten. Not only is it perfect for storing teabags for easy access, but it can be used to reflect my inner mood. For example, if I hear some good news, such as that HBO have given the green light to a 5-season remake of the 90s sci-fi cult classic Babylon 5, I can have the pot like this to express my joy.

If, on the other hand, I hear some bad news, such as that HBO have decided not to give the green light to a 5-season remake of the 90s sci-fi cult classic Babylon 5, I can turn the mug around to express my anger and sadness.

I also went up to Hadrian's Wall today. The last time I went I was 17 and cycling the length of Britain with Dunk, and we stopped one night at a Youth Hostel near the Wall and in the evening I walked up to take a look at it, was disappointed to find that it was the size of a garden wall, and then pulled a calf muscle to boot. This visit was better.

Here's a text exchange I had with Mithraea, who shares my reasonable infatuation with all things Roman. (I apologise in advance for the obscenities, but it was an emotionally charged moment for both of us.)

TARQUIN: I'm sending you this text from hadrian's wall. I am literally standing right on the actual fucking wall with a boner the size of the parthian empire.

MITHRAEA: That is totally fucking awesome. I hope you have your gladius out and your helmet too. Marcus Aurelius would be proud!

TARQUIN: I am stabbing every scotch person i see.

MITHRAEA: I hope you scream "remember mons graupius!" at them in latin as the blade sinks in.

New job

I just arrived in Durham for the start of my new job. Dad and I came in two cars loaded with books, I met the estate agent and received the keys, and then decided to make tea, quickly realising that this was no mean feat without a kettle or pan to boil the water. Then I remembered I had my camping cup thing, so the disaster was averted.

After dad left I stood about the house for a bit because I don't have any chairs yet. Indeed I don't have any furniture except a little coffee table, which actually functions very well as a stool, so between the coffee table and my boxes of books perhaps I won't need to buy any chairs after all. After a while I grew bored of sitting on my coffee table, so I decided to go and look for a supermarket, following the faint rumours I had once heard of a Sainsbury supermarket at the north end of Durham.

And by god, the rumours were true. Not only did I find a Sainsbury, but it was the largest Sainsbury I've ever seen, and it was besieged by a whole damn retail park with about a million different shops. Since I'd brought practically nothing with me except clothes and books and CDs, I ended up filling the car with stupid household crap that nobody really needs, like a couple of little bins, a box thing to put towels in, a bag of dishcloths, detergent and a dustpan and brush, et cetera.

I bought a cheap set of cookery knives in a vacuum-packed plastic case, and when I got home I realised I didn't have any knives or scissors to cut the case open with. The only thing I had that could cut it open was a corkscrew I'd also bought, but the corkscrew was fastened up with plastic ties that I needed a knife to cut. This is a rum pickle and no mistake, I thought. I was eventually able to liberate both knife set and corkscrew through the use of brute force, which proves that sometimes violence is the only solution.