Diary of a Dick Vet

How on earth (a) did break end, and (b) am I almost finished with the first week back? Exams are in a few weeks time, and I don’t know how I’ll learn all the new material and review the old stuff in the meanwhile! The perennial problem for the student, of course.

When I last left you, I had nearly completed a stunning first week of EMS. The second week was great as well, especially since the vet who did most of the operations was back from vacation. I was able to watch a femoral head and neck excision arthroplasty on a Border Terrier and a splenectomy on a Rottweiler before I left, have a good chat with everyone about the realities of working in a small animal clinic, and enjoy some good cuddles with lots of interesting pets. Success!

Sadly my scheduled trip to Holland/Belgium/Luxembourg was cancelled due to an unfortunate cloud of ash from some Northern neighbors, but at least I spent an extra week ’stranded’ in Edinburgh, rather than stuck in a foreign country, with no certain way of getting home. I spent my last week of sweet, sweet freedom knitting and watching The Mighty Boosh on DVD. As you do.

Some FOs:

My o w l s! This was my first proper sweater, and I would say it’s a good beginner jumper. Perhaps it wasn’t as challenging as I had originally anticipated because I was already confident with circulars, cables, and short-rows, but I still think anyone who can knit and purl can make this! The pattern is written wonderfully and is hugely popular on ravelry, and I’m proud someone who wrote something so fantastic is also a current resident of Edinburgh! I want to knit all of her designs (Manu is going to be my next ‘big’ project.) I’ve gotten several compliments on this sweater, which illustrates how knitted garments can truly be trendy and fashionable.

In addition, I found a way to use some of the lovely 4-ply I bought from Scottish indie yarn dyer Ripples Crafts:

It’s a very simply little shawl/wrap - I didn’t want a complicated lace pattern to obscure the colors in the yarn. I genuinely enjoyed knitting the the stockinette stitch base and then simple lace section, before finishing with some good old-fashioned garter. Garter - it’s coming back in, man. I have purposely photographed this from a distance, because upon closer inspection, it’s very, very obvious that I was off on some of my stitch counts, leading to a disruption in the lace pattern. You’d only noticed if you looked closely, and I’m going to let my amazing shawl be spoiled by details.

And finally, my pretty green hat. My wardrobe is unintentionally skewed green but my accessories are not, so this was a way to fill the deficit. The colorway is ‘Light Olive’ but it makes me think of lichen or moss, of damp forests and mushroom hunts with my dad when I was a teen. I call it my ‘Angwin Tam,’ and the yarn is 50% angora, 50% wool - it’s super-soft! I think I might buy another skein and knit some simple mittens to match, for next winter.

In addition to knitting my fingers raw, I also took a semi-impromptu day-trip to Thirsk, where the famous vet, James Herriot, had his surgery. All Creatures Great And Small is practically the bible for aspiring vets, and I’d been wanting to visit ever since I learned his old surgery is now a museum. The three hours of train journeys made it just far enough away to be someplace very different, but close enough to enjoy a full afternoon, arriving home in the early evening.

It was a very overcast day, but for a gal who lives in Edinburgh, the absence of rain is enough cause for joy. So forgive me if my photos are a bit gloomy and gray.

Donald Sinclair, aka Siegfried Farnon, vetted the Thirsk Races every year. I could just see the track, as I made the 20 minute walk from the train station to the town center.

On the front of Skeldale House

I was practically alone on my tour of the house. The guide at the entrance insisted that I take loads of pictures, and filled me in on many of the little details of the house, such as which pieces are original to the house, and sights that were directly referenced in the books. Wight’s widow was involved in the curation of the museum, so the house is a fairly accurate picture of how it looked in the 1940s. I couldn’t help but find the place a bit romantic, full of old charm, and a reminder of what vetting used to be. My absolute favorite room was the old dispensary, where James and Siegfriend mixed any number of strange brews for the farmers.

A real potions cabinet, full of 'Placentula or Cleansing Drink' and 'Oxygas for Udder Ill' and other strange wares. I wonder how vets 50 years from now will find our current pharmacies?

The consultation room for small animals

The cheerful kitchen

I doubt this tea cozy was originally in the house, but I'm still in love with it!

The back portion of the property included a short video on Wight’s life, and the car used in the television series. I’ve only seen bits and pieces of the show and wouldn’t call myself much of a fan, but I wasn’t going to pass up a chance to sit in that sweet car. Sadly, no one was around to take a photo of me in it, so I had to improvise:

It's me!

Upstairs was a totally brilliant museum of veterinary medicine. I majorly geeked out, looking at the old instruments and reading about all the wonky things early vets used to do. I recognize that non-vets probably couldn’t care less about this, and since my tiny readership consists of my immediate family, and people from my knitting group who openly stalk me (hi, Jez!), there’s no need to detail all the photos I took, but I will share this beauty:

An old probang - used to retrieve potatoes and turnips lodged in the throats of cattle. It looks remarkably similar to the modern version, although the favored material is no longer leather. On a side note, it's a bit...wrong...that an instrument made from cow hide was shoved down the throats of other cattle to retrieve potatoes. I suppose it's not unlike using catgut in sheep!

In addition to the potato-grabber’, calving aids and castration instruments appear to have changed little in the past 100 years, and why would they? Those were skills based on experience and knowledge of anatomy, along with a bit of strength. The most important contribution to veterinary medicine (human medicine, too) has undoubtedly been antibiotics, and anthelminthics have dramatically improved welfare and production systems for food animals, but these don’t retrieve a stuck lamb or geld a horse. This was represented on the poster boards that guided the tour of the museum, but I imagine only someone involved in the vet profession would realize how humbling it is, after having a good laugh at the often useless potions at a vet’s disposal, that so much of this field hasn’t actually changed since the introduction of antimicrobials.

Okay, one more geeky thing:

A cat castration box - use your imagination. (Anesthesia is such a wonder!)

I spent about two hours exploring the museum, and loved every minute. I bought myself a few souvenirs and walked down the street to St Mary’s Church, which is a gothic-period church in really good condition. Its original windows had been destroyed during the Blitz, but this appears standard for most British churches; what makes it unusual is that one of these windows had been restored to near perfection. The inside was lovely:

View from the alter

There are a few more pictures on my flickr, especially of the vet museum, if you’re interested. Now I’m back in classes, and trying to relight that fire that led me to this place, to complete this course…with exams so frighteningly close, let’s hope I find my spark!

There are only a few meager weeks until we break for a week of studying and then sit a week of exams. On Thursday the course organisers gave us detailed information about exam formats, which made the end of the semester seem that much closer. It’s probably time to kick into super study mode, which is hard to do when we still have the same amount of classes as usual.

I do have Thanksgiving to look forward to. I made my first turkey last year, and I hope to do a better job this year! I’ve overheard the new class of GEPs making plans for their first American Thanksgiving In The UK. It’s a tradition that passes down the GEP generation: each year the new class has trouble finding canned pumpkin, calls home for their mom’s stuffing recipe, discovers that UK ovens are not suited for large turkeys, attempts to convince Canadians that American Thanksgiving is better and the British that Thanksgiving of any sort is awesome, and make a little family unit for the evening to celebrate what they’re thankful after the stress of leaving home and country. What a nice holiday.

Anyway, I look forward to turkey and a break from mad studying!

…And now I am back in Edinburgh, unpacking, cleaning, watching Big Brother (with much guilt, I must add) and preparing for my sister to come visit. Then, on September 2nd, I am going hoooooome for two weeks - for the first time since I moved here on August 5th, 2008.

While I was down working in England, I had a chance to revisit Stratford-upon-Avon; however, this time I was greeted by sunny skies, warm weather, and bright cheerful gardens. And lots of other visitors, too! But for being a perfect English summer day, not to mention a Friday, the crowds weren’t too bad, and even made the trip a little more interesting, allowing me to watch families and couples and the odd lonesome Shakespeare fanatic share their time in the city.

Garrick inn and Harvard House

Guild Chapel - from the 15th century. I think it's the most beautiful church I've been to in the UK.

Last time I visited, I bought tickets that let me into Shakespeare’s birthplace and Anne Hathaway’s home, but this time I was too cheap to pay the £17 again to get into those homes and Nash’s Croft, which is next door to the where Shakespeare died. That house, ‘New Place’, is gone, with only part of foundation surviving, but its location had been turned into a garden. Next door to Nash’s house and garden is another garden which was free to the public.

The gardens, with Guild Chapel in the background.

Poppies! Poppies!

The gardens were lovely and fragrant, and I came back after lunch to spend a more time in them. But the gardens were on the way to where I was really headed, the River Avon:

Busy on the River

I paid £2 for a very pleasant boat ride on the river, with some very friendly swans.

After enjoying lunch on the lawn, I strolled over to the ancient Holy Trinity church, the oldest parts dating back to 1210, where Shakespeare, his wife, and several other family members are buried in the chapel. The most famous and well-respected English poet ever, and in death he is still just an abstract slab of stone and a plaque with a name.

Shakespeare's grave

He did have a last hurrah. His epitaph? (in slightly more modern English)

Good friend for Jesus sake forbear
To dig the dust enclosèd here
Blessed be the man that spares these stones
And cursed be he who moves my bones

What a wise ass! I love it.

The church itself was lovely, although I am obviously a glutton for Gothic architecture.

But my favourite part of it all was a little carving hidden in the corner and almost impossible to appreciate without a camera zoom. It’s a very early image of Christ that managed to survive the Reformation (when images of Jesus were destroyed), it being hidden until somewhat recently.

I think it's beautiful.

I hung out a bit longer, appreciating the architecture before walking back into town. After a fish supper enjoyed next to the River, I did a bit of shopping, stopped into Starbucks, and caught the train back.

Kudos to the people I stayed with taking such good care of me and giving me rides to and from the train station. It was hard work at the kennels, but rewarding.

Also, I got to spend time with the boss’s 9-month-old French Bulldog Mastiff (I do actually know the difference, I just had a brain fart), like the canine in the classic Tom Hanks dog-com ‘Tuner and Hooch‘. He had the unfortunate name of Tea Bag, which had been selected by the previous owner who had to rehome the poor beast. Upon first meeting Tea Bag, I was NOT impressed, since he nearly knocked me over by jumping on my chest and subsequently covered me head-to-toe in his special blend of slobber. But after a while, I couldn’t help but have a change of heart, and what had made him obnoxious and gross made him - oddly - charming. He weighs over 30kg and is a big stupid lug, but he has no idea that he’s too big to play rough. He’s just a puppy and a very affectionate one at that.

Who, me?

I mean, how could you not love him?

It's hard work being this slobbery

I have a few pictures from Ireland to share. They’ve all been taken around the little stud I’m getting my experience from. Strangely I don’t have many pictures of actual horses (AKA the reason I’m here), but I have a few days to remedy the situation.

One block of stables

Mare and foal enjoying the sun (they're the little dots in the centre)

Unbelievable

Friday I didn’t have any class on the schedule, so my friend Lindzie and I decided to take the train over to Glasgow for the day. I’m kinda fascinated with the city, because it’s home to some of my favourite bands, namely Belle & Sebastian and Franz Ferdinand. I have a B&S calendar from 2008 titled ‘A Toast To Glasgow’ and I really want to visit some of the places photographed by the band members. I figure I have four years here, so I have plenty of times to visit my musical Mekkah.

The goal was to go to the Transportation Museum because it sounded like goofy fun, but the city centre map I bought when I was in Glasgow last also mentioned the ‘St Mungo Museum of Relgious Life and Art’ which really intrigued me. I couldn’t quite imagine what it might contain, so Lindzie and I decided to skip the transportation museum and check out St Mungo instead.

George Square. Uninteresting factoid: the city of Edinburgh has a George Square as well, which is where a large part of the University of Edinburgh resides.

We wandered toward the museum, passing boarded up and crumbling old storefronts, past the little humble mom-and-pop shops that seem distinctly Glaswegian. My Mancunian friend says Glasgow looks a lot like Manchester, so maybe its just Edinburgh that’s weird. Regardless, the vibe is very different from my home here. In a parallel universe I’m a vet student at Glasgow who visits Edinburgh and remarks on its foreignness. Funny where life leads you.

We found this map just when we were starting to feel lost

We stopped nearby into this garden, which was adjacent to some structure dating back to 1471.

As we crossed the street toward Glasgow Cathedral, Lindzie and I realised that the hill nearby was completely decorated in old gravestones - the Glasgow Necropolis. It seems to me a very American thing to be fascinated by old gravestones. They certainly date the landscape, and the old mausolea get me shakin’ in my boots. We decided to walk through the cemetery, like the tourists we are.

The Bridge of Sighs, so called because of the funeral processions that used to cross it.

We tried to find the most interesting names, but there weren’t many. Most likely because it was a rather wealthy cemetery, those buried were given good, proper English names rather than something sounding Scottish. There were lots of Georges, Williams, Thomases, Margarets, and Marys, which is a bit of a shame. The best we could find was ‘Dugald Bannatyne” which seemed appropriate for someone buried in Glasgow.

Lots of crosses

Kind of a shame her hand is missing, but at least she has amazing abs

It's amazing just how massive some of the stones are

The necropolis was next to Glasgow Cathedral. I was lucky that I was traveling with Lindzie, because she shares an interest in old churches with me. We were still determined to find St Mungo’s, but we had loads of time so we popped into the cathedral.

It was absolutely stunning, not to mention enormous! There were several little chapels adjacent to the main alter, and a few steps down led to the tomb of St Mungo, as well as the original apartment of the archbishop living in the cathedral (complete with bullet holes in the door to the room - intense!) Also under the main part of the cathedral was Blacader Aisle, which dates back to the 15th century.

The creation window

Blacader Aisle

We left the Cathedral in good spirits, ready to find this dang museum. Without much aimless wandering, we found it right next to the cathedral. Score!

Inside we were greated by all sorts of impressive art from various religions. The major religions were the most represented, so in addition to Christian art, there were lots of pieces relating to Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Sikhism. Ages ago, back in 7th grade, my history class spent a lot of time looking at world religions, and I’ve always found the subject interesting. I don’t know nearly as much as I would like, but I could definitely appreciate the art in the museum.

Upstairs was my favourite part: an exhibit dedicated to life and religion. It started with birth and many religious practices relating to it, from major religions to the obscure tribal-specific practices from all over, progressed to coming-of-age ceremonies (featuring a truly horrific picture of a teenage girl following her ‘circumcison’) through marriage, and then to death. The exhibit did a really bang-up job of looking at many different religions. If you’re in Glasgow and you’re looking for a good museum trip, St Mungo Museum of Religious Life and Art is where it’s at.

We still had two hours until we needed to catch the train, so Lindzie and I stopped in a cafe and had some delicious soup. The pot of tea I bought reminded me just how amazing something as simple as tea will taste, especially when on a cold day in a foreign city. We looked at the gift shop and I bought a postcard. The children’s exhibit on the top floor had a booth to make Sikh flags, so we made our own memorabilia.

It was time to go back toward the train station, but not before stopping at a small stone building we spotted on the way, labelled the oldest house in Glasgow. There were a few blokes sitting at a table inside watching visitors, but otherwise there wasn’t anyone else inside. It reminded me of my visit to Stratford-upon-Avon - so many interesting free exhibits and no one around! To be fair, people go to Glasgow for the shopping and not so much for the random tourist-y stopovers. Still.

I'm only 5'8", but I definitely did not fit in the doorways. It least the ceilings were high enough.

After an hour of exploring the busy city centre of Glasgow while we searched high and low for a sheet for our toga party Saturday night, Lindzie and I grabbed the train back to Edinburgh. There was enough light outside to enjoy the Scottish countryside one more time before we plunged back into reality. Ah, Edinburgh.

Glasgow on a Friday afternoon

Today was my day off. I leave on Monday, so I decided to stay close and explore the area a bit before I leave for good. It was a bright, sunny day, and the ice from the past days and the snow from this morning had melted by the afternoon. Although the ground was wet it was mostly still frozen, so footing was good for a small hike.

The roads nearby are narrow and twist sharply, so it seemed a bad idea to risk a car speeding around a bend and potentially hitting me. But I wanted to get out and about, so I walked about 5 minutes down the road to a public footpath that led me away from cars. True to English form, this footpath was really a slightly worn stretch of soil that ran alongside a field. There were hoof prints and old tire tracks, but it wasn’t a path in the sense that I expected.

View from the road

On the footpath

A reminder that, even though I was walking through the country, the city wasn't far away

It turned out that the area I was in was called ‘Hodgehole Dingle.’ Just like my trip to the Highlands in September, I couldn’t help but remark at how different the UK and the US can be. Most days I feel like the world is small and the similarities between countries far outnumber the differences. However, in the Highlands I saw a shabby wooden sign with only the word ‘Castle’ on it and laughed how it seemed like a perfectly normal thing to encounter. Here, in England, I laughed again that there was a spot called ‘Hodgehole Dingle’ and it was somehow not bizarre. And really, it is normal, but a reminder that I am in some place foreign from my home.

Silliness aside, I kept walking until I reached the suburbs and made a few turns until I came across a large public park. I had walked from the country, to the city, and back into a bit of (artificial) country again. With the blue skies and silver clouds I was awestruck by the scenery and sat to watch the dogs run around and the trees rustle.

The park

The town

The gates to the kennel close at 5pm and I didn’t want to get locked out, so I started to head back. The sun was beginning to set, and everything I had seen previously suddenly looked a bit different.

The field, again

I sat and listened to the grasses rustle. Another day in God's Country, I say.

Like I said, I’m nearly done with my placement here. I’m debating whether or not I want to post pictures of the kennels and cattery; it seems like perhaps an invasion of privacy, but I also figure a few pictures of some dogs and cats won’t hurt anybody. Anyway, I’d like to post a wrap-up of my experience. Until then, back to cold days and poop buckets!

Greetings. I’ve had a nice few days doing EMS, even if I spend most of my day shoveling poop and walking past scary German shepard dogs. I officially want a dog of my own, although weighing the pros and cons I know that wouldn’t be the wisest things to do.

Here’s what the facility looks like:

To the left: the office and office kennel block. In the centre, the work room. On the left, the grooming room is downstairs, and the extra cattery is on the top.

I haven’t taken many pictures of the kennels, but they’re quite nice: every dog has an indoor space with a bed where they are fed, and a hatch that opens to an individual run. Although it would be nice if they got a bit more exercise, they all seem quite content, and the long-termers are taken for walks in the field behind the kennels.

The field. I enjoy the walks as much as the dogs do.

Some of the owners dropped them off with wrapped presents for Christmas day, so one of the kennel assistants walked around the different blocks and opened the various chew-toys and packets of treats. It’s all quite sweet, even if the dog don’t care that they now have a tartan rope toy.

The catterys (catteries?) are also nice: they’ve just been re-done and are very spacious. Every unit has at least one level for the cats to jump on and corners for the more timid ones to hide. There is an occicat that is so loud you would think it’s in heat, while its companion, a blue British Shorthair, barely budges from its bed and stares blankly at the world. But my favorite cat to watch is Ziggy, the Siamese. I initially thought he was evil, because his eyes would flash yellow, but then after I nervously picked him up and set him on the ground so I could clean his upper level, he climbed up and would not leave me alone. He kept purring and rubbing against me and reminded me that male cats are much more affectionate than people give them credit for.

Ziggy likes to climb the wire mesh.

The house where I'm staying. My bedroom is upstairs, in the back, and it's very cozy.

Today I had a day off, and I arranged with an old University friend to meet-up in Birmingham. After a few bumps in my journey that led to me arriving 40 minutes late, we found each other and walked around the Bullmarket, which is a huge shopping centre. I tried desperately to find her some cheap-o Uggs rip-offs at Primark (like the UK equivalent of Target, which is not available in Edinburgh) but I was unsuccessful. I did buy a pair of socks to warm up my ice-cold feet and a FIsherman’s scarf for £3 at Primark that is thick and warm and snuggly, but I wish my new loan cheque was in so that I could take advantage of the post-Christmas sales. Shame.

The Bullmarket

The free museum we popped into

Jacke and me. Rarely do I feel short, but I certainly do with her!

It’s back to work for me tomorrow. The weather is in the low to mid-30’s F and there is a chance of snow on Saturday, and it’s actually colder than Edinburgh. I live for a hot mug of tea on my fingers during my breaks. And watching the television in bed in the evening!

…is hopefully not too generic.

‘Til today, I had never spent a Christmas away from home. Obviously I would prefer to be with family, but I enjoyed having a British Christmas. Traditionally in England, Christmas lunch is served as 2pm or so with the entire family, but I ate at 4:30pm instead with only my two bosses, since their family are coming tomorrow on Boxing Day and we had to work. Still, they served a full turkey dinner, and were nice enough to get me a little Christmas pudding to pop into the microwave before setting ablaze with brandy. They also had a few Christmas crackers laying around, so they let me help and pop them. I ‘won’ my prize (a keychain pen that doesn’t work - woohoo!) and I told my joke:

What does an angry kangaroo do? Gets ‘hopping’ mad!

Thoroughly British!

I also wore my paper hat. I enjoyed getting to do Christmas the English-way. Hopefully I can return to my terrible American ways next Christmas, but for this year I’m satisfied.

Right now I’m watching The Simpsons and waiting for the folks to come on skype. My hosts are very generous and I’m a bit happy from the wine, so I am laughing a bit louder than normal, but still: I’m glad I have Homer et al. to join me on this Holy Day.

Happy Christmas!

I went to Stratford-upon-Avon yesterday. It was a bit odd to be travelling alone, and I spent a lot of time thinking about how much fun my family would have had with me, but I had a lot of fun. Nothing like a bit of an adventure to liven you up.

I took my favourite mode of British transportation: the train. However, unlike my trip to the highlands where I could indulge in the coffee trolley going by as I stared dreamily at the herds of cows and sheep, instead I rode a commuter train through the backsides of working class cities and junkyards. The tenement buildings and hollowed warehouses I saw were something out of A Clockwork Orange or even Jubilee. Increasingly, I come to understand the details of the books I’ve read and movies I’ve seen about the UK. The scenes of economic depression and overcrowding that were once confined to movie worlds in my mind are actual real. It’s hard to tell a country’s natives that certain romantic notions you harboured about their home have recently come crashing down.

But don’t get me wrong: although I saw a lot of remnants of depression, England is inherently beautiful and I have fun exploring it. Stratford-upon-Avon has cultivated a classic ‘English town’ feel and it was really fun to indulge in my tourist tendencies to snap pictures of street corners and buy trinkets. I didn’t allow myself to get lunch from Subway because it was too American, but I did pick up a coffee at Caffe Nero, which is a UK-grown coffee franchise. I bought tea from a little specialist shop in the back courtyard of some buildings off the beaten track, but I also bought a blouse for my Christmas dinner at Marks & Spencer and some shoes at New Look, which are certainly not boutique shops. Stratford-upon-Avon blends small town with big city, but it is still thoroughly British.

But enough contemplative nonsense. I have pictures!

I wanted to take a picture of the countryside that Shakespeare saw. The train didn't afford me the best shot, but some of the forests I passed did let me imagine Willy S riding around on a big horse while wearing silly tights.

On the trainride I passed a town called ‘Wootton Wawen.’ I tried so hard to get a picture of the rail sign, because it made me laugh out loud. It sounded like something the priest would say in The Princess Bride: ‘mawwiage, is what bwings us hewe togeweerr, to Wootton Wawen, todayyyy….’

I did get this sign:

The town was decorated for Christmas

The monument to William Shakespeare.

The house where William Shakespeare was born

Because I couldn't take any pictures of myself in front of anything, I thought I would provide proof that I was there :)

The map I bought had a note saying that I could follow a public footpath for a mile to reach Anne Hathaway’s home. Anne Hathaway - the original - was the wife of Shakespeare. There is a reproduction of her home Victoria, British Columbia in Canada that I visited as a teenager with my family. I really, really wanted to see the real version of her childhood home since I was so close, so I decided to walk the path.

I thought that listing a path on a town map would, by the very virtue, make it some charming, well-worn walkway, but is wasn’t anything like that. I followed the little brown arrows to some shabby alleyway and walked for 15 minutes, unsure if I was really going toward a famous cottage or a cess pit where they pushed unsuspecting tourists to their doom. Finally, as I walked behind homes and down unmarked single-lane streets, I saw another little brown sign telling me to keep it up. I followed these random signs until I found a thatched house with a placard letting me know I had arrived.

One of the less shabby bits of path

The cottage was very nice, but surprisingly empty. I stood the tour myself and chatted with the guide, before walking up to the bedrooms to have a look around. At Shakespeare’s home they had militantly forbidden picture-taking (which, of course, I did anyway) but no one seemed to care that I took copious photos of Anne’s digs. When I came down the stairs to the kitchen I had a nice chat with the guide again, and watched as another group of tourists wandered in the front door, but the place was mostly dead. I imagine that an overcast December day, right before Christmas, is not the high tourist season. I should like to come back in the summer, when the gardens behind the home would be in full bloom. Then it would be beautiful.

Anne Hathaway's Cottage

The best bed

The gardens behind the cottage

I walked back to Stratford-upon-Avon (after taking a bit of time to find the path back!) and went shopping! I realised that I had only brough scruffy clothes with me in my suitcase, and since I am eating with the family I’m staying with for Christmas I wanted to look nice. It was a good excuse to spend some of my Christmas money on a blue knit top, a cute necklace, and some cheap but very functional flats. That, to me, is a successful trip! I sat down at M&S for a toastie, scone and pot of tea, bought a bottle of wine to bring back to my boss, and when I came outside it was dark, with the town’s Christmas decorations were lit up.

Every street was lit up!

I caught the train back and pondered my day. I was very glad to be back at the kennels, where I could upload photos and watch Long Way Round on DVD and 30 Rock on the television while laying in bed.

Happy Christmas Eve!

It’s tradition at the Dick Vet for first year students to decorate Summerhall’s entry for Christmas. Because I’m a GEP and not a true 1st year I didn’t get to participate, but I still get to enjoy how festive the place looks on my way to the library to study.

The Christmas tree. Those boxes are empty, of course.

The main staircase. Close enough to Harry Potter, eh?

A festive chain on your way out of Summerhall

I was reading a bit of All Creatures Great And Small this morning over breakfast (mmm, pancakes!) and James Herriot was describing the various muscles and blood vessels he was cutting through and around in the neck of a cow on his way to opening a postpharyngeal oesophageal cyst, and I knew what he was talking about! Well, mostly. It reminded me that I needed to study even more, but it also reminded me of why I’m studying vet med in the first place - so I can poke at cow necks, of course.