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(no subject)
Mar. 26th, 2008 08:01 pmHeading down to Glendalough for a couple of nights tomorrow.
I'm going to bring an essay, a camera, and my running shoes. If I get the essay halfway done, I might even do some writing.
But, god, am I looking forward to a break. I didn't realise how twisted up and strung out I was feeling over the Schols until I didn't have to feel that way anymore. So going away to get some greenery, fresh air, still water and silence is precisely what the doctor ordered.
And maybe I can get my wind halfway back to what it was before I embarked on the crazy examinations programme.
I'm going to bring an essay, a camera, and my running shoes. If I get the essay halfway done, I might even do some writing.
But, god, am I looking forward to a break. I didn't realise how twisted up and strung out I was feeling over the Schols until I didn't have to feel that way anymore. So going away to get some greenery, fresh air, still water and silence is precisely what the doctor ordered.
And maybe I can get my wind halfway back to what it was before I embarked on the crazy examinations programme.
(no subject)
Mar. 26th, 2008 08:01 pmHeading down to Glendalough for a couple of nights tomorrow.
I'm going to bring an essay, a camera, and my running shoes. If I get the essay halfway done, I might even do some writing.
But, god, am I looking forward to a break. I didn't realise how twisted up and strung out I was feeling over the Schols until I didn't have to feel that way anymore. So going away to get some greenery, fresh air, still water and silence is precisely what the doctor ordered.
And maybe I can get my wind halfway back to what it was before I embarked on the crazy examinations programme.
I'm going to bring an essay, a camera, and my running shoes. If I get the essay halfway done, I might even do some writing.
But, god, am I looking forward to a break. I didn't realise how twisted up and strung out I was feeling over the Schols until I didn't have to feel that way anymore. So going away to get some greenery, fresh air, still water and silence is precisely what the doctor ordered.
And maybe I can get my wind halfway back to what it was before I embarked on the crazy examinations programme.
Spent the last three days in Glendalough. The trees there are still green, shading towards autumn-brown, Scots pine and fir on the upland ridges between the valleys. The quiet is silent, truly silent, except for the ripple of running water and the sound of wind in leaves and over stone. At night the dark is next to absolute, even with clear skies and a full moon.
Ghleann Dá Loch, valley of the two lakes, and the water of the upper lake looks black even in sunshine. They're glacial formations, surrounded by granite mountains that have worn down to narrow hills. I spotted feral goats, sheep, red squirrels and deer - only one, a stag with a fine head of antlers - and that's before I mention the birdlife.
Everyone who goes to Glendalough, it seems, traipses round the remains of the churches (there are several) and the round tower, below the lower lake. It's pretty enough, I grant, but to me the really interesting remnants are at the top of the upper lake and across the ridge in the Glendasan valley, where the hillside has tumbled great boulders down onto the ruins of a mining village that operated from the early 1800s (in Glendasan) - or mid-1800s, in Glendalough - to within the last half-century. It's a bleak site, cold and stark - it seems to catch the worst winds in the entire valley - and utterly impressive. You stand there, looking up at the river that rushes down a cleft between two hills, between the boggy remains of the old mining village and the scattered granite boulders; looking down the length of the upper lake with white ruffles on the black water and brown uplands, grey granite, green pine, barren hillside sheering steep to the lakeside, and you could be the last person on earth, alone in the silence of water and stone.
Of course, the walking's more than fair. I think I averaged about 10 km per diem, but I'm a wuss who wasn't prepared to do any serious hillwalking without more confident company. (Some may call this good sense.) Next year, perhaps.
The weather didn't turn really chill until after we'd headed home. Wonderful how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Also, do I give off knowledgeable vibes, or something? Because being asked by an - American, I think, though the accent could have been Canadian - tourist at the upper lake What's good to see back that way?, quite insistently, and with a rather frantic wave in the direction I'd just come from, well. It makes me wonder. Both about them, and about me.
Perhaps I need a t-shirt. "I Answer Your Questions: Ask Me How" with the graphic of a punching fist beneath it. Because seriously, I get mistaken for a tour guide quite sufficiently enough while on campus.
---
The Parks Service people, however, are great and helpful. I have all the admiration in the world for them.
---
I have conceived a great love for Matthew Good's track, 'Flight Recorder From Viking 7'. I had it playing in the car across Sally Gap on the way home, and it was very apt.
---
Pictures will follow, if anyone's interested.
Ghleann Dá Loch, valley of the two lakes, and the water of the upper lake looks black even in sunshine. They're glacial formations, surrounded by granite mountains that have worn down to narrow hills. I spotted feral goats, sheep, red squirrels and deer - only one, a stag with a fine head of antlers - and that's before I mention the birdlife.
Everyone who goes to Glendalough, it seems, traipses round the remains of the churches (there are several) and the round tower, below the lower lake. It's pretty enough, I grant, but to me the really interesting remnants are at the top of the upper lake and across the ridge in the Glendasan valley, where the hillside has tumbled great boulders down onto the ruins of a mining village that operated from the early 1800s (in Glendasan) - or mid-1800s, in Glendalough - to within the last half-century. It's a bleak site, cold and stark - it seems to catch the worst winds in the entire valley - and utterly impressive. You stand there, looking up at the river that rushes down a cleft between two hills, between the boggy remains of the old mining village and the scattered granite boulders; looking down the length of the upper lake with white ruffles on the black water and brown uplands, grey granite, green pine, barren hillside sheering steep to the lakeside, and you could be the last person on earth, alone in the silence of water and stone.
Of course, the walking's more than fair. I think I averaged about 10 km per diem, but I'm a wuss who wasn't prepared to do any serious hillwalking without more confident company. (Some may call this good sense.) Next year, perhaps.
The weather didn't turn really chill until after we'd headed home. Wonderful how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Also, do I give off knowledgeable vibes, or something? Because being asked by an - American, I think, though the accent could have been Canadian - tourist at the upper lake What's good to see back that way?, quite insistently, and with a rather frantic wave in the direction I'd just come from, well. It makes me wonder. Both about them, and about me.
Perhaps I need a t-shirt. "I Answer Your Questions: Ask Me How" with the graphic of a punching fist beneath it. Because seriously, I get mistaken for a tour guide quite sufficiently enough while on campus.
---
The Parks Service people, however, are great and helpful. I have all the admiration in the world for them.
---
I have conceived a great love for Matthew Good's track, 'Flight Recorder From Viking 7'. I had it playing in the car across Sally Gap on the way home, and it was very apt.
---
Pictures will follow, if anyone's interested.
Spent the last three days in Glendalough. The trees there are still green, shading towards autumn-brown, Scots pine and fir on the upland ridges between the valleys. The quiet is silent, truly silent, except for the ripple of running water and the sound of wind in leaves and over stone. At night the dark is next to absolute, even with clear skies and a full moon.
Ghleann Dá Loch, valley of the two lakes, and the water of the upper lake looks black even in sunshine. They're glacial formations, surrounded by granite mountains that have worn down to narrow hills. I spotted feral goats, sheep, red squirrels and deer - only one, a stag with a fine head of antlers - and that's before I mention the birdlife.
Everyone who goes to Glendalough, it seems, traipses round the remains of the churches (there are several) and the round tower, below the lower lake. It's pretty enough, I grant, but to me the really interesting remnants are at the top of the upper lake and across the ridge in the Glendasan valley, where the hillside has tumbled great boulders down onto the ruins of a mining village that operated from the early 1800s (in Glendasan) - or mid-1800s, in Glendalough - to within the last half-century. It's a bleak site, cold and stark - it seems to catch the worst winds in the entire valley - and utterly impressive. You stand there, looking up at the river that rushes down a cleft between two hills, between the boggy remains of the old mining village and the scattered granite boulders; looking down the length of the upper lake with white ruffles on the black water and brown uplands, grey granite, green pine, barren hillside sheering steep to the lakeside, and you could be the last person on earth, alone in the silence of water and stone.
Of course, the walking's more than fair. I think I averaged about 10 km per diem, but I'm a wuss who wasn't prepared to do any serious hillwalking without more confident company. (Some may call this good sense.) Next year, perhaps.
The weather didn't turn really chill until after we'd headed home. Wonderful how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Also, do I give off knowledgeable vibes, or something? Because being asked by an - American, I think, though the accent could have been Canadian - tourist at the upper lake What's good to see back that way?, quite insistently, and with a rather frantic wave in the direction I'd just come from, well. It makes me wonder. Both about them, and about me.
Perhaps I need a t-shirt. "I Answer Your Questions: Ask Me How" with the graphic of a punching fist beneath it. Because seriously, I get mistaken for a tour guide quite sufficiently enough while on campus.
---
The Parks Service people, however, are great and helpful. I have all the admiration in the world for them.
---
I have conceived a great love for Matthew Good's track, 'Flight Recorder From Viking 7'. I had it playing in the car across Sally Gap on the way home, and it was very apt.
---
Pictures will follow, if anyone's interested.
Ghleann Dá Loch, valley of the two lakes, and the water of the upper lake looks black even in sunshine. They're glacial formations, surrounded by granite mountains that have worn down to narrow hills. I spotted feral goats, sheep, red squirrels and deer - only one, a stag with a fine head of antlers - and that's before I mention the birdlife.
Everyone who goes to Glendalough, it seems, traipses round the remains of the churches (there are several) and the round tower, below the lower lake. It's pretty enough, I grant, but to me the really interesting remnants are at the top of the upper lake and across the ridge in the Glendasan valley, where the hillside has tumbled great boulders down onto the ruins of a mining village that operated from the early 1800s (in Glendasan) - or mid-1800s, in Glendalough - to within the last half-century. It's a bleak site, cold and stark - it seems to catch the worst winds in the entire valley - and utterly impressive. You stand there, looking up at the river that rushes down a cleft between two hills, between the boggy remains of the old mining village and the scattered granite boulders; looking down the length of the upper lake with white ruffles on the black water and brown uplands, grey granite, green pine, barren hillside sheering steep to the lakeside, and you could be the last person on earth, alone in the silence of water and stone.
Of course, the walking's more than fair. I think I averaged about 10 km per diem, but I'm a wuss who wasn't prepared to do any serious hillwalking without more confident company. (Some may call this good sense.) Next year, perhaps.
The weather didn't turn really chill until after we'd headed home. Wonderful how things work out sometimes, isn't it?
Also, do I give off knowledgeable vibes, or something? Because being asked by an - American, I think, though the accent could have been Canadian - tourist at the upper lake What's good to see back that way?, quite insistently, and with a rather frantic wave in the direction I'd just come from, well. It makes me wonder. Both about them, and about me.
Perhaps I need a t-shirt. "I Answer Your Questions: Ask Me How" with the graphic of a punching fist beneath it. Because seriously, I get mistaken for a tour guide quite sufficiently enough while on campus.
---
The Parks Service people, however, are great and helpful. I have all the admiration in the world for them.
---
I have conceived a great love for Matthew Good's track, 'Flight Recorder From Viking 7'. I had it playing in the car across Sally Gap on the way home, and it was very apt.
---
Pictures will follow, if anyone's interested.
(no subject)
Sep. 25th, 2007 11:08 amSpur of the moment trip to Wicklow. Just as the weather looks to turn poorly, too.
See you in a couple of days!
See you in a couple of days!
(no subject)
Sep. 25th, 2007 11:08 amSpur of the moment trip to Wicklow. Just as the weather looks to turn poorly, too.
See you in a couple of days!
See you in a couple of days!
I've given up trying to remember and record all the books I read while I was sick. They were Many, and I've forgotten most of their plots. Except in the case of Dorothy L. Sayers: Have His Carcase and Gaudy Night must be two of the best books anywhere, with Busman's Honeymoon running close in third.
But since my memory started working again, there've been a couple of books worth remembering.
Mary Gentle's Ilario: The Lion's Eye is one of them. Set in the same alternate history universe as her Ash: A Secret History, but earlier.
The main character is Ilario, a hermaphrodite and former King's Freak of the court of Taraconensis. I can't tell you what the story's about: Gentle is too complex a writer for me to do that; but I can tell you it takes place all over the Med, from Carthage under the Penitence, to the crumbling Rome of the Empty Chair, to Venice, to Alexandria-in-Exile - Constantinople, where Pharaoh Ty-ameny rules over the last remnant of Egypt. There are golems, and assassins, and eunuchs, and mercenaries, and artists, and kings.
I love Gentle's work with the very great love. Ilario isn't the book that Ash was: it's very, very different. But equally good.
Elizabeth Bear (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
matociquala)'s Carnival - well, what can I say? Diplomats, spies, remnant alien cities, a future about as strange as anyone could wish for, much plotty goodness, and, oh. So many twisted and conflicted loyalties.
It kept me up all night reading. Read it.
---
Eragon is an enjoyable film, if you aren't expecting too much from it. It suffers from, perhaps, a slight overdose of the clichés - ( spoilery, if you care ) - and an urge to offer homage to the LotR trilogy with every second sweeping camera angle, but the dragon is lovely and Jeremy Irons and John Malkovich are both extraordinary actors - Irons, in particular, is magnificent.
If you don't mind the - at times - outrageously stilted dialogue, it's actually quite a good film.
---
Season's greetings. Whatever holiday you're celebrating this time of year, have a good one.
But since my memory started working again, there've been a couple of books worth remembering.
Mary Gentle's Ilario: The Lion's Eye is one of them. Set in the same alternate history universe as her Ash: A Secret History, but earlier.
The main character is Ilario, a hermaphrodite and former King's Freak of the court of Taraconensis. I can't tell you what the story's about: Gentle is too complex a writer for me to do that; but I can tell you it takes place all over the Med, from Carthage under the Penitence, to the crumbling Rome of the Empty Chair, to Venice, to Alexandria-in-Exile - Constantinople, where Pharaoh Ty-ameny rules over the last remnant of Egypt. There are golems, and assassins, and eunuchs, and mercenaries, and artists, and kings.
I love Gentle's work with the very great love. Ilario isn't the book that Ash was: it's very, very different. But equally good.
Elizabeth Bear (
matociquala)'s Carnival - well, what can I say? Diplomats, spies, remnant alien cities, a future about as strange as anyone could wish for, much plotty goodness, and, oh. So many twisted and conflicted loyalties.It kept me up all night reading. Read it.
---
Eragon is an enjoyable film, if you aren't expecting too much from it. It suffers from, perhaps, a slight overdose of the clichés - ( spoilery, if you care ) - and an urge to offer homage to the LotR trilogy with every second sweeping camera angle, but the dragon is lovely and Jeremy Irons and John Malkovich are both extraordinary actors - Irons, in particular, is magnificent.
If you don't mind the - at times - outrageously stilted dialogue, it's actually quite a good film.
---
Season's greetings. Whatever holiday you're celebrating this time of year, have a good one.
I've given up trying to remember and record all the books I read while I was sick. They were Many, and I've forgotten most of their plots. Except in the case of Dorothy L. Sayers: Have His Carcase and Gaudy Night must be two of the best books anywhere, with Busman's Honeymoon running close in third.
But since my memory started working again, there've been a couple of books worth remembering.
Mary Gentle's Ilario: The Lion's Eye is one of them. Set in the same alternate history universe as her Ash: A Secret History, but earlier.
The main character is Ilario, a hermaphrodite and former King's Freak of the court of Taraconensis. I can't tell you what the story's about: Gentle is too complex a writer for me to do that; but I can tell you it takes place all over the Med, from Carthage under the Penitence, to the crumbling Rome of the Empty Chair, to Venice, to Alexandria-in-Exile - Constantinople, where Pharaoh Ty-ameny rules over the last remnant of Egypt. There are golems, and assassins, and eunuchs, and mercenaries, and artists, and kings.
I love Gentle's work with the very great love. Ilario isn't the book that Ash was: it's very, very different. But equally good.
Elizabeth Bear (matociquala)'s Carnival - well, what can I say? Diplomats, spies, remnant alien cities, a future about as strange as anyone could wish for, much plotty goodness, and, oh. So many twisted and conflicted loyalties.
It kept me up all night reading. Read it.
---
Eragon is an enjoyable film, if you aren't expecting too much from it. It suffers from, perhaps, a slight overdose of the clichés - ( spoilery, if you care ) - and an urge to offer homage to the LotR trilogy with every second sweeping camera angle, but the dragon is lovely and Jeremy Irons and John Malkovich are both extraordinary actors - Irons, in particular, is magnificent.
If you don't mind the - at times - outrageously stilted dialogue, it's actually quite a good film.
---
Season's greetings. Whatever holiday you're celebrating this time of year, have a good one.
But since my memory started working again, there've been a couple of books worth remembering.
Mary Gentle's Ilario: The Lion's Eye is one of them. Set in the same alternate history universe as her Ash: A Secret History, but earlier.
The main character is Ilario, a hermaphrodite and former King's Freak of the court of Taraconensis. I can't tell you what the story's about: Gentle is too complex a writer for me to do that; but I can tell you it takes place all over the Med, from Carthage under the Penitence, to the crumbling Rome of the Empty Chair, to Venice, to Alexandria-in-Exile - Constantinople, where Pharaoh Ty-ameny rules over the last remnant of Egypt. There are golems, and assassins, and eunuchs, and mercenaries, and artists, and kings.
I love Gentle's work with the very great love. Ilario isn't the book that Ash was: it's very, very different. But equally good.
Elizabeth Bear (
matociquala)'s Carnival - well, what can I say? Diplomats, spies, remnant alien cities, a future about as strange as anyone could wish for, much plotty goodness, and, oh. So many twisted and conflicted loyalties.It kept me up all night reading. Read it.
---
Eragon is an enjoyable film, if you aren't expecting too much from it. It suffers from, perhaps, a slight overdose of the clichés - ( spoilery, if you care ) - and an urge to offer homage to the LotR trilogy with every second sweeping camera angle, but the dragon is lovely and Jeremy Irons and John Malkovich are both extraordinary actors - Irons, in particular, is magnificent.
If you don't mind the - at times - outrageously stilted dialogue, it's actually quite a good film.
---
Season's greetings. Whatever holiday you're celebrating this time of year, have a good one.
