How to Make Life Difficult for Yourself

I’m not writing about scholarship today. Indeed, this is more a case of, ‘Don’t do as I do …’

  • Buy old house
  • After 30 years, learn that rewiring is needed
  • Box most household goods (this is mainly my remit) to facilitate rewiring
  • Pull a muscle in your back (ouch!)
  • Vacate premises
  • Return to scenes like this:-

Upheaval is Anathema

Now, having very elderly and neuro-divergent family members will make any upheaval twice as traumatic. It was. Keep this in mind.

  • Despite the need for redecorating next, I was told that We could not live like that, so the majority of the boxes had to be unboxed (again, my remit)  before Christmas. A painter was engaged to start after Christmas.
  • But first, I had to coordinate Christmas and pack it away again,  singlehandedly.  The pulled muscle complained.
  • And boxing up began again. (Again mainly, painfully, my remit). 
  • But this time, more of my books had to be boxed. Even for a former librarian, heaving big boxes of books about is strenuous work.
  • There were delays. And timekeeping issues. The estimated 4-5 days extended to 18 immensely stressful days. Testosterone Towers took it out on me.  I’m mentally exhausted, and now the house has to be unboxed and tidied again.
  • OK, so now is a good time to go for a shingles vaccination. Only a mild reaction, but temporarily adding physical aches and tiredness to the mental draining. 

Between 4 and 10 pm yesterday, I emptied 12 boxes and cooked dinner.  Testosterone Towers can’t wait for order to be restored out of chaos.  It will happen. (I may be ‘ridiculous’, ‘getting worse as I age’ and ‘a stupid old woman’, but I have my uses.  Apparently, none of this was said.*  I must be losing my marbles, too.)

In Fairness

  • Three rooms completely redecorated
  • Two rooms, hall and landings repaired

Although we had expected a couple of ceilings to be fully repainted, which weren’t, I have to say that the painter’s partial solution was masterful. The highlight of my morning today? Waking to this:-

Never was I happier to look up at a white ceiling. (Even if other parts of it are less pristine!)

I cannot think about research just yet.  I don’t need to, today or most of tomorrow. My mind is still frazzled, and there’s major tidying to do.  But hopefully a nicer environment will make for a calmer mind.

(Now, where’s the hot water bottle for my back?)

*This is gaslighting. These things have been said.

Parkinson’s Law in Reverse

Many clock-faces

‘Work Expands to Fit the Time Available’?

Mr Parkinson, you’re so wrong!

Parkinson’s Law was apparently a saying coined by Cyril Parkinson in 1955. But today, I’m watching time expand to fit the work available, rather than the other way round. In our case, the work we expected to take four or five days, began at the end of one week, ran through last week and is still ongoing halfway through this present week. And I’m the site manager – but only insofar as I’m chasing up workmen and trying to keep the residents of Testosterone Towers happy.

You mean we have to keep looking at THIS?

Aged people and neuro-divergent people really do struggle with chaos and uncertainty, and there are bucketloads of chaos and uncertainty round here. It makes them uncomfortable and on edge.

Fortunately, I work part-time. The rest of my time is being spent making futile attempts to keep everything else under control. Testosterone Towers’ residents have clean, dry, ironed clothes. They can see as much carpet in our lounge as the slow progress of the work elsewhere will permit. (I can’t put things back in their rightful places whilst there are still dustsheets, plentiful dust, and ongoing work all over the place.)

The residents are fed on time (because one of the residents is comforted by timetables); and the supermarket shopping is still happening to the usual plan.  I’ve been using oven-ready meals.

What is harder for me is endeavouring not to annoy the most easily annoyed resident. As for keeping tabs on the project, my struggle is to keep a balance: enough for my efforts to be perceived as diligent, without actually annoying the working people I’d rather not offend!

I’ve booked a cleaning team for next Tuesday. But will they be able to come then? Watch this space.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Rewire, Redecorate … Research?

White paint-pot and brushes on a sheet of newspaper

Rewired

Followers of this blog will recall that our Edwardian home was rewired at the end of November. ‘We’ don’t take kindly to upheaval, of which there was plenty, so I had to unpack and put back a lot of goods (including hundreds of books) afterwards  – notwithstanding the need for remedial decorating  – in order to make the place bearable for Christmas.  Note the ‘We’ and the ‘I’.

Redecorate: Magnolia and White

Today, the remedial redecorating commences (not a DIY effort), so I’ve been repacking goods all over again. I’m the youngish, averagely fit one – and I’m already knackered!  Even my FitBit agrees.  My back has only just recovered from November/December; my fingers are sore; I’ve run out of empty boxes (how, I can’t imagine); and am almost out of floor on which to stack stuff. We have too much stuff. 

I have done my employed research for the week.  Does anyone else working from home recognise this kind of thing?

‘I thought you might have started cooking dinner by now?’

‘But I work until 5 …’

And I did work. Then I cooked. Then I packed and stacked, and continued stacking and packing this morning.  The lounge looks like a library on the move –  and is now so much smaller, in terms of cubic air volume, that it’s actually perceptibly warmer with the same heater settings.

But even women who feel as though they’ve been dragged kicking and screaming back to the 1970s, against their will, have their limits. The kitchen is being decorated first, so it’s fish and chips for tea. There will be no cooking here.

Research?

I’m only contemplating research to the extent of acquiring a decent recording device this weekend! I’m starting an exciting new research project soon, and as soon as the ethical approval process is complete, I’ll be raring to go. Monday will see the Magnolia and White project going on elsewhere in the house – hopefully my own working environment will by then be spick-and-span – with me sitting enjoying remote training to ensure that the new research project goes well.

Now, what colour shall I inject into my magnolia and white dining room to make it a joyful zone in which to work …?

Image by tookapic from Pixabay

Progress! Post-Rewiring, my Desk is cleared for Research again ..

I’ve proof-read an article for The Magic Lantern; navigated Cambridge University Press’s article dashboard for my impending RMA Research Chronicle article; signed an ‘Ironclad’ contract; updated my Pure (institutional repository) account; signed up to a short online course in connection with next year’s research project; and attended a meeting.

It feels as though it’s been a busy morning. One could argue that it has been more administrative than actual research work, but research doesn’t get done without a secure administrative foundation, so that’s good enough for me.

Post-Rewiring?

I’d best describe my mental state as ‘fragile, but functional’! But I’m getting there.

Back to Normal on Monday? Well, Maybe …

Very tall pile of empty cardboard boxes

Monday mornings are contracted research time. And research there will be. I have a couple of things to proofread, for a start, quite apart from picking up the threads after last week’s chaos.

The Thrills

Reader, if you like the thrill of the unexpected, and a break from normal routine – go for the total rewiring of an Edwardian house. The chasing round the landscape for TrashNothing and Facebook Marketplace free cardboard boxes. The filling and stacking of them. The hotel stay, the restaurant bills, and the, ‘Could you possibly come back a day later? Making sure your ceiling doesn’t come down is going to add a bit of time to the job’ kind of thrill.

There were three high points: we went to the cinema. Unheard of! I swam lengths for a solid hour in the hotel pool. And discovered that Terikyaki salmon fillets are my absolute favourite food. Other than that, it was a question of just getting through the experience of being away from home, and without my own car. In a room with one desk and one chair, but two occupants, I never felt less like trying to do any research, so it’s a good thing I wasn’t expected to.

Chaos

And then we returned home. The Edwardian house is now rewired (ceilings intact); spotted with plaster patches in walls and ceilings – meaning I’m currently getting redecorating quotes – and it was so dusty that we were grateful to have arranged a full, in-depth clean. And of course, everything needs unboxing. But not everything all at once, right now, if decorators are to start doing things to walls and ceilings! My books are back on shelves, though I don’t know for how long – still, they give the impression that everything is settling down again.

Unsettled

But worst of all, it seems that some of us are very, very unsettled at such major upheaval. And it feels as though I’m on the receiving end. I never want to hear about our discarded lampshades again! But I will. Repeatedly. (Frankly, I don’t CARE if our old dusty lampshades were discarded without our agreement. Now we have new ones.)

And … Breathe!

It will be with a great deal of relief that I open my work laptop tomorrow morning, take a deep breath, and try to think only about research for 3.5 solid hours!

Rewiring (Domestic, not Neurological!)

A smell.  (My nose is as finely-tuned as my ears are not.) 

A melting fuse.

One thing led to another, and we’re getting the whole old house rewired this week.ย  I’ve rearranged my part-time morning and taken my part-time day off. And I’m not going through to Edinburgh.ย  With everything packed up in boxes during the upheaval, and ourselves displaced, I simply can’t get on.ย  I hesitate even to tackle emails, in case I forget where I got to in the different aspects of my work. I can’t simultaneously get my head around the intricacies of research, which explains why I’m not blogging as much as usual.

It appears that the ‘semi’ part of my retirement is to be dedicated to caring for the old house.  (Elderly houses have their own unique requirements and challenges,  different to older humans. At least Himself doesn’t have dodgy ceilings and won’t need redecoration.) 

In semi-retirement, it falls to me both to coordinate things – and sometimes repeat things.  (I’m the only one with hearing aids. Although this is disputed, I find they work fine, as evidenced by the fact that I get to repeat what the electrician said!) And, particularly but not entirely, because a rewire is stressful for all concerned, I find myself on the receiving end of quite a few adverse comments. (I’m apparently frequently very annoying.)

I’ll be glad when this week is over.  My kind and unfailingly courteous historical publishers await me!

Thoughts about Experiencing Plagiarism

Beautiful red apple hanging from tree, ready to be picked

‘Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery’?

I wrote these words as a reflection, but then I wondered if other people might find them helpful. Maybe something like this – or worse (because I realise my experience was slight compared to someone whose whole article, story or book has been plagiarised) has happened to you? There might be folk who would shudder at the thought of laying bare their emotions, their gut reaction, to such a situation. As for me? My ‘words’ are my strength. If my words in the present posting make me look weak as an individual, be assured that I am fully aware of this. They also make me uniquely ‘me’, and who ever gets far by pretending to be other than themselves?

Meanwhile, my situation has been resolved, thankfully. I feel grateful. Grateful for the help. Grateful for the response and correction of the situation.

However, I feel utterly drained.  I’m taking a day’s annual leave because it’s preferable to taking a day’s sick-leave for stress.

I initially headed this posting, ‘Thoughts on detecting plagiarism’. However, ‘on detecting plagiarism’ turns out already to be in the title of someone else’s blog post – Addressing the Inherent Biases in Automated Systems: On Detecting ‘Plagiarism’ (Lancaster University, Ref 2014 Impact Case Studies). I changed my heading. Do read the Lancaster post, if you’re interested. I commend it, even though it’s actually about detecting plagiarism in student submissions, rather than realising your words have been quoted without attribution. I read their blog post briefly last night, and I am not reading it again today. I took no notes, and I have no intention of borrowing anything that was there.


They were literally just a few words, but my own words, and the crux of a 21-page article written 12 years ago. The first full article on the topic. It hurt. And then I started questioning myself:- was I considered so unimportant that my authorship is insignificant? Because, PhD or not, I was ‘merely’ a librarian, hence unimportant? Because I’m now ‘just’ a postdoc research fellow? (That was actually a promotion, by the way!) Because I’m not very famous? Was it because I’m a woman? Because I’m older, and thus considered past it? Because, once published, the words were considered free for the taking? Because, significant or not, they were just a few words, and so temptingly apposite? Low-hanging fruit.

Mulling it over as I got ready for the day, I glanced in the mirror. There I was, an older woman – not ageing particularly stunningly or gracefully, short in stature and wide in figure. My garb was workaday (I was about to sit down to a solitary morning of research, 67 or not). I wore no makeup, and I haven’t been on the latest diet long enough – you wouldn’t notice me if I walked down the street. So there I was. I’m not publicly visible as a performer or composer, unlike a large number of my colleagues. And, as I mentioned, although as a librarian I achieved some visibility in the sectors I worked in – perhaps more visibility than many – librarians aren’t generally known for this quality. We exist to help other people. I’ve not been a librarian for a year now, but I think I probably still carry the aura of invisibility. And when you say ‘librarian’, not many people immediately think, ‘Ah! A researcher. An author. A public speaker.’ Well, there it is!

Image by Bruno from Pixabay

But although librarians might exist to help, to share, to facilitate, they aren’t ghostwriters. Even when they’ve retired from librarianship and are now employed solely as a postdoctoral research fellow.

‘It Says More about Them than it does about You’

And then I reminded myself (I think this is called cognitive reframing) that I didn’t actually know what they were thinking when they used my unattributed words. I can’t read other people’s minds. My identity may not have even been a consideration. And I recalled my latest mantra: that other people’s words and actions speak more about them than about me.

Trigger warning here. I am not preaching when I say that I’m a practising Christian; I’m declaring a fact, which probably does affect my philosophy. (I’m no Evangelical, though – I’m boringly conventional!) I found an intriguing article, ‘3 Reasons Pastors and โ€˜Authorsโ€™ Should Never Plagiarize‘ by David Kakish (12 July 2019). He does make the salient, human point that ‘Plagiarism Fails to Give Honor Where Honor is Due’. Be assured that I’ll be reading it, out of curiosity, but it doesn’t really help the person who has been plagiarised, so I’ll leave it until later! I did do a little web-searching to see if there was a Christian take on low self-esteem. However, I found nothing that resonated, except the grounding reminder that everyone is a unique person for a purpose, so we should embrace what we are rather than wish we were someone else.

I tried not to beat myself up about my own insecurities. I know what I’ve achieved, from a mid-career standing start, against the odds. My words are old enough to be irrefutably mine, regardless. And … well, I can always write some more!


Here are some useful links which I found last night

If your experience is on the more serious end of the scale, these might be helpful. I’m not proposing to offer guidance on dealing with such situations – I’m really not qualified to – but I would urge you to seek support.

Bailey, writing about author O’Hanlon’s dreadful experience, headed his post, ‘The Emotional Toll of Plagiarism’, and my own limited experience endorses that. In my case, a migraine and shall we say, gut reactions, were clearly telling me I was stressed.  Symptoms can be treated, but how much nicer not to have had them at all!

Image by NoName_13 from Pixabay

The Man who Turned up Everywhere!

Yesterday was my first day back in the archives. My phone was crawling with messages (an ongoing family situation). Then came a phone-call, which I couldn’t answer without running out to where I could talk. That led to another, and another. And another. Back and forth I went.  I can’t tell you what a day it was!

However, I did get through several folders of Thomas Nelson papers.  I’m in search of the first mention of a particular individual who was very influential in Nelson’s educational music output.  I found him mentioned a couple of times in yesterday’s papers, once quite unexpectedly. I need to see how this sits in my timeline.  Honestly, I didn’t expect to find him urging an organist’s wife to submit a book proposal on … elocution!  It didn’t look like choral speaking (yes, that was a thing, which was quite in vogue a little later on). Indeed, a Nelson editor specifically advised his boss that it was about elocution, so I don’t need to wonder.

Nelson’s rejected the lady’s proposal. She found another publisher.ย  I briefly wondered how the Englishman who basically ended up acting as music advisor to the Nelson editors, came to know a Scottish organist and his wife, quite early on in his professional career? But I think they probably met at a course or conference.

Four Weeks’ [Disrupted] Holiday

This is an interruption into the ongoing intermission!

Victorian woman reclining in armchair

I really needed this holiday. I was tired. An ongoing family crisis meant I couldn’t go away, but we’ve been for coffees and afternoon teas. I sewed and knitted. I’ve weeded books, tidied the garden, and we’ve had the bathroom gutted and totally refitted.  (This is not the epitome of restfulness, especially when the loo’s decommissioned!, but the end result is gorgeous. )

Traumatised

But please, never ever ask me about multi-vehicle car insurance.ย  I do not wish to relive those hours wasted entertaining the thought.ย  It was a terrible idea. Ironically, I don’t even want to share my experience of finding that my data had been shared without consent, or that a non-existent traffic conviction had also been attributed to me. (The ‘incident’ was my being stopped after the midnight Christmas service.ย  Doing 30 mph, stone-cold sober, in a fully compliant vehicle, it was a routine check, that’s all. No breach of the law, no points on licence.)

A couple of email exchanges during my vacation have reminded me how far I’ve moved from librarianship to research in just one year, and I’m looking forward to carrying on in this direction now. Anyway, I’m back to research mode on Monday.  The coming week might be as close to normal routine as I could hope for, in the circumstances.  Here’s hoping!

Another Brief Intermission

White curtains. virtually closed, with plant on the window sill.
Firs and Hollies Waltz