The One Where I Get My Arse In Gear

Exeter is experiencing a heatwave; I am experiencing sunburn. Whilst I do still look like the identical twin of Frosty the Snowman, the top of my back seems to be concrete evidence for an evolutionary link between humans and lobsters. Right now, it's so hot and I'm so grumpy that I cannot wait for those freezing sub-zero Ottawa temperatures.

(I'm going to look back on this post in November and rue the day).

Anyway, I need to get my arse in gear pretty swift-like, so it's time for a to-do list of epic proportions.

1) Apply for study permit.

2) Get travel insurance.

3) Start looking/applying for accomodation.

4) Book flights.

5) Apply for Ottawa's buddy scheme (vom, why use the word 'buddy' when the English language contains the word 'mentoring'?).

6) Apply for student finance, even though even attempting to do so is like walking straight into hell. Yes, SLC, you do stand for Satan/Lucifer Cretins.

7) Sort out bank stuff - the very idea makes me break out into a cold sweat.

8) Once insurance is sorted, fill out the form to prove it and send to the Exeter International Office.

9) Get Canadian money.

10) Find out what Exeter work I have to do during my year abroad.

11) Make photocopies of everything, esp. passport, birth certificate.

12) Fill out the thing on MyExeter which says in big, bold letters, IF YOU ARE GOING TO ON A YEAR AWAY FROM EXETER, FILL THIS IN.

13) Research Ottawa.

14) Contact some Ottawa churches.

Flip, that's rather a lot, isn't it?



The One To Catch You Up

Hello, it's been a while. In fairness, I had those pesky things called exams and then had post-exam freelance data entry work and a lot of iPlayer to catch up on. Maybe I should do a list of all the different Canada-related things that have happened in the mean time... I'm going to number it in different languages to incorporate my current multi-tasking of blogging and watching the second Eurovision semi-final.

One) Pre-depature meeting



In the shiny new Alumni Auditorium in the shiny new Forum which is no longer followed by 'project' but is now an actual, living, working thing. It was an interesting meeting. Fell in love with the founder of thirdyearabroad.com and discovered that the Cornwall campus are full of rude, arrogant, disengaged muppets. (Disclaimer, obvs they're not all like that, just the ones going abroad...). Sue O'Hara was definitely the most memorable speaker at the meeting, although I can't actually remember a huge amount of what she said apart from not being too sarcastic and making us all stand up and jump up and down, which did not go down well. Not a lot did go down though, because we pretty much refused to jump. There was a minor heart attack moment when someone who's applied to Ottawa asked why he hadn't received his acceptance email - this is still a mystery. But it leads to point number...

Zwei) Ottawa communication

Bless them, they're very chilled. Some might say too chilled. Some might. I say nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. Basically, whilst Ottawa contacted me to tell me I was accepted, they neglected to tell Anne Worth, the person at Exeter who needs to know this too.

Also, they do start all emails with "hi" or "hello". It won't be long before one will begin with "hey". It's unnerving; especially after two years of Gorringe emails where he seems to have a competition with himself to use as few words as possible to communicate with his students. I think I prefer it when he feeds back on my wide thighs to the uber-pithy 'Good, 70. Tim.'

Tre) Post-Ottawa communication

Having received my log in details to my Ottawa account, I logged in. It didn't work. So I tried again. And again. And again. And kept trying until I was informed rather abruptly (considering previous Canadian communication) that my account had been disabled. Anyway, I burst into tears and had to write through the curtain of salt water in front of my eyes back to Ottawa to ask for help. They didn't reply, so after a week I emailed again, Facebooked and then made an international call. I was loathe to get on the phone because of the cost, but then the mother pointed out that she pays my phone bill. So I rang, I got a "hello, bonjour" which was the right way round for my liking, contrary to their emails. Anyway, after being told to try logging in again in 48 hours, I received an email today informing me it was sorted. AND IT WAS! JOY JOY JOY JOY JOY! WOO!

Fyra) To-do list

My current to-do list is long. I need to get a study permit, insurance, accomodation (help help help), flights, a suitcase, a bank account, contact student finance. I don't know where to start; it's overwhelming and it won't go away. And the fact that my year-abroading housemate is going off to forgeign lands (deepest, darkest Germany - ok, Berlin) in one month only compounds the fear that is rising in my stomach. If it's only one month until she disappears off for what is supposed to be the best year of her life, it means it's only three months until I have to go to what is practically the other side of the world. This is insane. Even more insane than the Serbian entry into the Eurovision Song Contest.

Vijf) Hyper-advanced homesickness

That's my self-diagnosis: hyper-advanced homesickness. I first discovered I suffered from such an affliction in about October 2009 when I started to feel homesick despite it being an entire 11 1/2 months before I was leaving home to go to uni and then feel sick. I'm a worrier. And a meticulous planner (over some things). And I enjoy autonomy over the minutiae.

Sometimes, I surprise myself with my delicious phrasing. Authonomy over the minutiae. Wow.

Anyway, that's it for me for now. I'm sure I've missed off things to tell you but never mind. It's my blog and I can post whenever I want to. Yes. Although I do aim to be less bossy and precious than my tone may suggest.

Au revoir. (Yep, I can cope at a bilingual university!)

poster le manuscrit That's a literal French translation for post script, so it's probably not right, Mme Rennetau always told me off for being literal when translating in A Level French. Anyway, I got all my module choices, thus ending the module selection saga!

The One With the Module Choices

It's still not sunk in...

And still the most exciting thing about the year abroad at the moment is the (for me), record-breaking amount of likes on my Facebook status: 56 and counting! Complete with adorable comment from Chris about missing me - or nuanced missing me anyway. Plus, I've heard from my two Canadian friends, Emma and Krista, so hopefully they'll be able to take care of me in some small way. As Krista pointed out, I'm moving half way across the world in a matter of months, months. At least Facebook knows; my mum knows and the extraordinary tutor who gave me a reference for the program know, but I still haven't got round to emailing my personal tutor to tell him - apologies, Mark Wynn. But at least I've found the time to blog and have a quick moan about how I'm really sick of the book of Romans. Priorities, I've got them!



Right now I'm in the process of printing off all the forms I was sent yesterday and didn't look at because Facebook-updating plus Teaching Awards tension got in the way. They're all very formal-looking and there's a bit too much French on there for my liking; I had hoped that my disastrous A2 French exam where the GCSE Mandarin students had recorded over our listening exam, was the last time I was going to have to deal with that much French. Alas, I'm off to a bilingual university for a year. Furthermore, having recently seen Her Majesty, The Queen at Exeter, I'm slightly concerned I'm too much of a Royalist for me to be safe quite so near to the French part of Canada. I might have to quickly form some Republican views. Down with the monarchy, because dependeable tradition cannot compare to the tradition of politicians bringing nothing but hot air. (See, I'm a convincing Republican).

Anyway, the module choices for the next year went live today; some good ones, and some missing that I really hoped would be running, but never mind. I think I've chosen all ten, (ten? Ten! Step up from the six I'm doing this year), but I haven't yet read the guide which tells me about the module selection process - remember what I said about hyper-enthusiasm late last night/early hours of this morning? So whilst I should probably do that, I've already mentally composed an email I'll have to send in January to a lecturer asking for lenience as I run from one building to another at 1pm, as I'm desperate to do his module but it starts when another one finishes. Here's hoping. And I'm jumping the gun again.

 Excerpt from official acceptance letter: We are pleased to confirm your acceptance...under the international student mobility bilateral agreement with University of Exeter.

I have a student number and everything.

And it's still not sunk in. 

And now I need to print a 31-page document. Oh flip. And they write the date insensibly. And there are far to many Zs in words which really require an S. I'm getting disgruntled with differences, much like yesterday when I complained to my head of department that I missed meat after receiving the vegetarian meal option. (She likes me really, hence why she let me moan).

Okay, I think I know what I'm doing with module choices, but I can feel an email to Anne Worth of the International Office at Exeter coming on. A panicky, frantic email and the first of many over the next year - she's gonna love me! This makes this post the beginning of a saga on making module choices - don't get bored! Remember, I'm providing you with valuable procrastination time here.

The One That Starts It All

Hello Miss Barr,  

We are happy to announce that your application for the exchange program at the University of Ottawa has been accepted .  

Oh. My. Days. This has yet to truly sink in. After months of not getting my hopes up juxtaposing a period of hoping I wouldn’t get accepted, I have, and in a just a few short months, I shall be attending the University of Ottawa. Oh. My. Days. It’s still not sunk in. Having said that, the acceptance email came after a particularly horrendous revision period on Hosea Ballou, (mental, heretical, ultra-universalist with a crazy name to match the crazy theology); and arrived just as the nerves were kicking in for attending the Teaching Awards.  

Now I’m just delirously tired and have climbed into bed without taking off the inches deep make up and planning on rising first tomorrow morning so as not to inflict the panda eyes on the housemates. And do more revision. And try and not being hyper-engaged about Ottawa or dangerously apathetic. Oh, this really needs to sink in soon…  

As a quick aside, but very much joyous aside, how wonderful were the Teaching Awards? I am literally so honoured to have been invited/hastily replace absent lecturer; and it was such a great evening. Massive shout out to Francesca and Louise for their awards; for Charlotte for being the best SSLC Chair; for Katie for being consistently a babe and for Jenny in the Humanities Office for just being her and for the wonderful hug.

I’m going to miss Exeter very, very much.  

If I’m perfectly honest, right now I’m probably most excited at the thought of being a fourth year and getting to live with Susie for my final year. Final year now seems a long way off. This time next year, I’ll probably not be in the UK. This time in four months, I’ll be in Canada! I do think that starting an email, ‘Hello Miss Barr’ reveals that my accutely-British cynicism might jar with what can only be called a sunny disposition of the Canadians in the International Exchange Office. Maybe I should endeavour to return to Exeter inherently jolly? Although, if I do return with the word ‘jolly’ as a prominent part of my vocabulary, please push me down Cardiac Hill.  



Let’s leave it there, shall we? After all, as Esther Reed reminded me this evening, one does have to be of a certain academic quality to be deemed acceptable to go abroad to study; so in order to keep up the pretence of being academically acceptable, I need sleep to bring on tomorrow’s revision. Oh dear, that means that day one of trying to be jolly like Canadians is doomed to fail already…