Notes from a gap year

And so, I come to the end of two years in York. Well, fuck - that's a bit mad, isn't it? I will soon be leaving for pastures new (well, Sheffield), and it's fair to say this has been an eventful couple of years. Good and bad, I've learnt phenomenal amounts (about linguistics and about myself) and had some utterly, utterly glorious times.

This year in particular has been busier than I thought possible, juggling five part-times jobs and PhD applications, but being someone who doesn't function unless they're late for five things at once, it's been bloody great. I've spent most of the year responding to "So what do you do?" with "Well, it's complicated..." -- so what have I actually been up to this year, and what am I taking away from it all? Glad you asked...

Do ALL THE JOBS!

Job #1 - Project Officer for the Temporal Co-ordination in Communication project
What? My main source of income this year, I was lucky enough to snag a research assistant job at York Uni almost immediately after graduating. Working under Dr Richard Ogden in partnership with some talented musical folk at Cambridge University, we set out to investigate whether rhythmicity in speech (and music) was shared between conversational participants, and whether this could be seen in their intonation patterns or physical gesture.
No really, what? I spent the year analysing the speech and movements of pairs of speakers as they chatted, played games, and made music. It was super rad.

Lessons learnt
- Analysing people's video-captured eyebrow movements in great detail makes you hyper-aware of eyebrow movements in real life. Related: people get uncomfortable when you stare at their eyebrows.
- If you pause a video at the right moment, any two people can look like they're in love. Or like they want to kill each other.
- Some cliches are true, and sometimes people are so posh that you literally can't understand what they're saying. One gent was talking at length about "rang" and I swear to God it took me about three minutes to figure out he was talking about "rowing".
- There is little more painful than having to watch two non-musicians try to make music for fifteen minutes.
- High quality audio recordings are a gift. The sound of a person smacking their lips or hocking up phlegm directly down your headphones is not.

Job #2 - Vowel analysis for the Scilly Voices project (University of Sheffield)
What? Dr Emma Moore is looking into language variation and change on the Isles of Scilly. I leant a hand by listening to old archive footage of Scillonians born at the turn of the century and delimiting, labelling and coding certain vowel sounds.
No really, what? I listening to charming old folks talking about island life and marked up whenever they said a vowel that rhymes with the one in 'mouth'.

Lessons learnt
- Never underestimate how long it will take to get through a 75 minute recording. (For the record, eight hours.)
- All Praat and no play makes Hannah something something. (Go crazy? DON'T MIND IF I DO! etc.)
- It's very easy to get invested in the lives of interviewees, particularly if they saved someone from drowning and/or their dad beat up the headmaster of their school for caning them. (Both the same guy!)

Job #3 - Data monkey for the Surrey Syncretism Database project
What? The University of Surrey, along with its compatriots, is compiling an online resource that gives academics access to an easily-searchable database of languages, in order to display and investigate syncretism (when a language has the same marking for different features).
No really, what? I unpacked reports about complex languages and turned them into shiny, organised spreadsheets to pop into the database.

Lessons learnt
- Kashmiri is a fucking complex language.
- Excel spreadsheets and complex language paradigms are made approximately 67% more fun when you colour code them while listening to loud pop music.
- Accidentally ctrl+Cing when you mean to ctrl+P is akin to a papercut, in that it is a minor annoyance that causes ridiculous amounts of strife.

Job #4 - copywriter/subeditor for publicservice.co.uk and defencemanagement.com
What? These guys compile public sector information journals, commissioning and creating content and distributing it. I worked here for a year between my BA and MA, and they kindly kept me on freelance.
No really, what? I write stuff, and nitpick stuff that other people write.

- Anybody who talks excitedly and with passion for their field makes for a charming interviewee, and the article subsequently writes itself.
- It's possible to get super-invested in something you had no idea you were interested in, so much so that you exceed the word count by nearly half; in my case, military medals, and how they're made and awarded.

Job #5 - copywriter/content provider for various sites, through a centralised pool of writers
What? I wrote blog posts, articles, product descriptions and suchlike for a bunch of websites.
No really, what? Seriously?

Lessons learnt
- There's only so much bullshitting one can do. And you can't bullshit your way through an article about institutional insolvency in Europe when you have less than no idea what you're writing about.
- Fluff pieces about Kate Middleton's holiday plans and the best-dressed celebrity mums are alarmingly easy to churn out, but doing so kiiiind of makes you want to kill yourself.
- Never underestimate a word count. Sometimes, 450 words can seem like thousands.

York livin'
Having lived in this glorious city for two whole years, I am obviously the foremost influence about the places to be in York. HA! No. But still, I love this city dearly, so if you ever find yourself visiting or living here, these are my recommendations.

• Go to the Minster. Yes, I know, duh, but it's easy to forget that your home plays host to one of the most staggering pieces of architecture and history in the country. Even if you're not religious, go to Evensong or the Christmas carol service - it's beautiful. If you can, explore the crypt and the tower - it's worth the money. At the very least, go inside and look up. Take a deep breath, and take in the ceilings. Incredible.
• Visit National Railway Museum. All of York's museums are great, but this is my favourite by far. Its free, for a start, and is a brilliant celebration of man-power and industrial endeavour. Huge and sprawling, it makes you feel like a child, and walking through the room full of mish-mash railway memorabilia and accessories is like a historical jumble sale. It's a fantastic museum that needs and deserves saving.
• Walk up the river, from Skeldergate bridge. Either side - down the cycle path or through Rowntree Park. Both are gorgeous.
• Cycle the solar system route, particularly if it's a sunny day. It's super easy to do because it's 99% flat, you take in some gorgeous countryside, and when you get back you can say that you CYCLED AROUND THE UNIVERSE.
• Get a huge, ridiculous ice-cream sundae from Licc. Hands down the best ice-cream I've ever had, and comes in a ridonkulous number of flavours. One time, I had a sundae that was cinder toffee, caramac and salted caramel, and it's probably the closest I've come to passing out in an eatery because the food was so good.
• Bishopthorpe Road is where it's at. The Pig and Pastry is a delightful and friendly café whose eggs royale are to die for; Pextons is a proper old hardware store which has everything you could ever need; and Millie's greengrocer is cheap and brilliant (and one time they gave me a free Milky Way). The whole street is just a lovely, mutually-supportive group of independent shops, and it's lovely.
• Go to the Mason's Arms on Fishergate, whether it's for food (their portions are huge!), drinks (lovely, cosy atmosphere and a host of ever-changing local beers), or the Wednesday quiz (SUPER fun, and free food!). The staff are impossibly lovely and kind, and the food is stellar.

Life, the Universe, and everything in it

This has been A Year. Good, bad, bonkers, awful, exciting, terrifying, all of that business and more. I learned many Important Life Lessons, and much as I might not have wanted to, I'm very glad I did.

- It is, apparently, entirely possible to simultaneously have not enough and too much to do. It's very easy to get to the point of "well, I have so much to get done that I might as well just curl up under my duvet and watch Doctor Who again".
- I have the attention span of a gnat, and I need to work on that.
- You're never too old for boybands.
- What you think is 'right person, wrong time' may actually just amount to 'wrong person, full stop'.
- I have loved living with guys, but when they start peeing with the door open, you start to need female company. I've mainly lived with girls in the past, but living my best New Girl life with four male housemates this year has been absolutely brilliant, and I wouldn't have changed it for the world.
- You can't fix people who don't want to be fixed.
- It's tough when your closest friends aren't geographically close, but that's doesn't mean you're alone.

The number of people who asked after the family before/after dad's op, and who congratulated me on getting PhD funding, was staggering. There's been times this year where I felt like I had nobody, but I was wrong. I was just focussed on the people who weren't there, rather than the ones who were. Thank you, everyone.

My time in York has been enhanced and rescued by some wonderful, wonderful friends. I'm afraid the rest of this blog post will be horrendously sappy and overemotional. But, you guys are reading this, and it's ME - what else did you expect?

THE ARCHAEOLOGISTS

I was lucky enough to be warmly welcomed by the Archaeology/Cultural Heritage Management gang last year, and they're about as lovely and fun a crowd of people you could hope to meet. I also learnt a staggering amount from them all - it's a diverse and fascinating subject, and I'm very glad they just let me sit there and ask inane questions about it for hours on end.

THE ECONOMISTS

This year's Archaeologists (i.e. the group of people who allowed me to tag along with them all year) were the Economists, who are also a properly fantastic bunch. Admittedly, I asked fewer probing questions, because the idea of Economics makes me brain bleed, but they were just as interesting regardless.

THE BISHY ROAD LADIES

Coming to York, I didn't know anybody. I luckily managed to snag a room in a house with three girls through a friend of theirs, and arranged to meet my new housemates a few weeks before. Within about four seconds I though "these are my people", and they made the transition to York a wonderful one. Fun, sweet and just as nerdy as me (if not more), I can't think of people I'd rather scream at the television with.

LINGUIST LADIES

Linguistics tends to be a female-heavy course, and the MA programmes last year felt a bit like an awesome girlband, minus the dance moves (well, most of the time). We cried on each other about dissertations, bitched about professors and danced off all the stresses of the year. Each and every one of them is a beautiful brainbox, and I'm so glad we got to chuck our hats in the air together.

ALI AND BRI

(I should note that I've already started crying by this point.)

A dreadlocked South African, bespectacled Californian and a bright-tights clad Brit walk in to a bar and order some flavoured cider. They then proceed to talk animatedly in pop-culture quotes and Internet memes while flailing their arms about and intermittently singing and dancing. They alienate the rest of the bar, but build a friendship for life. God, I miss these girls every day, but I know for certain I will see them again as frequently as the oceans allow.

MISCELLANEOUS BESTIES

Yeah, I was doing really well at categorising groups of people, until I got to this point. Friends, friends of friends, housemates of friends, friends I watched a lot of football with, friends whose weddings I happily attended, friends I did pub quizzes with, friends who marathoned tv shows with me, friends I watched on television, friends I attempted to swim in the North Sea with but quickly bailed because it was too damn cold. God, I love you all.

GRAY STREET MASSIVE

We've had lots of people in and out of the house this year, but the five of us have had a cracking time. We've enjoyed/endured Ross' eclectic music tastes, we've cared for DJ Boot in his invalid state, we've eaten A LOT of banana cake, and while two of our number are currently gracing Thailand and Belize with their presence, it's been a bloody brilliant house to live in all year.

ROSSINGTON

We found Ross on the Internet when looking for a housemate, so he could have been anything: an axe-murderer, a kleptomaniac, a Tory. But I thank my lucky stars every day that he was Ross - a hilarious, charming, caring and generous guy who honest to god lights up any room he's in. I wouldn't have got through this year without him looking out for, entertaining and challenging me. He's like my big brother - very occasionally I want to tear the Avril Lavigne singlet off his shoulders, but I wouldn't be without him for the world.

***

Right, I've cried enough writing this. On to pastures new, taking incredible friends and important experiences with me. So long, York. It's been real.

End of year 2012 -- feelings and joy

So, 2012, in many ways, has been an absolute shitter. Like, the worst. 2012 can basically go and fuck itself, all told. HOWEVER, I really don't want the crappy parts of the year to be the things that stay with me, as there was a huge amount of joy too, and I'm still incredibly lucky. I learned a lot, had some brilliant adventures, and generally enthused about a lot of stuff. And so, to finish the year in the only way I know how: a sentimental blog post about the things that were great about 2012.

My family
For obvious reasons, it's been a really tough year for the Leaches. But it's important to take good things from bad situations, and if there's anything I've learnt from all this shite, it's how to properly appreciate my incredible family. I know they say you can't choose your family, but even if I could, I would absolutely pick mine again and again. They strong and smart and fun, supportive and sweet and ridiculous, and the most wonderful stone cold pack of weirdos I could ever hope to ever share my DNA with. It shouldn't take family disasters to make you realise how much your parents and siblings mean to you, but I'll take it.

Pop music
I don't have a particularly 'cool' taste in music and never have, but 2012 was the year I finally, properly said 'balls to that' and decided that I don't give a shit any more. There's a longer, more ridiculous blog post in the offing on this topic, but in short, I could not care less that I love pop music. McFly are one of my favourite bands. Call Me Maybe is one of the best songs of the year*. One Direction's album is pretty damn excellent. Stuff it all - I'm a teenie bopper for life and I care naught for judgement. (Ohhh, you just wait for my soundtrack of the year. Consider yourselves warned.)

One thing pop music is good for is remembering that somewhere inside us is the potential for unvanquishable joy." — John Darnielle

The Olympic and Paralympic Games
I didn't really have anything above normal Olympics-based excitement before it all kicked off, but as soon as I watched that magnificent, barmy showstopper of an opening ceremony I was hooked, and swept away on a tidal wave of sexy patriotism and crying over medal ceremonies. The celebration of working class Britain, the of endless dedication to a cause, of sportspeople not swathed in scandal and corruption. Wiggo's sideburns, Rutherford's fingers, Farah's Mobot and a veritable army of fierce, fantastic ladies doing themselves, their families, and the nation proud. It was a summer of staggering world achievement, Britain in the spotlight and a kind of enthusiasm and community spirit that's been in decline lately.

image source

I'm going to attempt a brief top-five Olympics highlights, but it's really just five brilliant Olympics moments off the top of my head and there are probably a million I've forgotten. But anyway:

1. PAPA LE CLOS
2. Tom Daley's medal celebration
3. Epke Zonderland's bonkers-incredible high bar routine
4. Mo Farah doing the lightning bolt, and Usain Bolt doing the Mobot
5. Obama and McKayla Maroney doing the 'not impressed' face

Also, the Olympics brought us the joys of Ryan Lochte's twitter and general existence, which I will never not find entirely hilarious. WAKE UP AND SMELL THE GARDENS.

Stoke-based epiphanies
Better explained in this waffly business here, it's been wonderful to find a kind of purpose for my academic future. I want to analyse the shit out of Stokie speakers, their accents, how their speech is entwined with their cultural history, and I want to do it forever and ever amen.

Thinking about things
As has been evidenced in a fair few ranty blog posts, this year has been one for me having feelings about things and issues and serious business stuff. Well, I always have feelings about things, but 2012 has been a year for paying attention to what people are saying and writing, learning from them and trying to take it on board, as well as trying to speak up when I feel the need. The Internet is full of informed, sensible, tolerant and smart people, and I can't even begin to list the articles which have made a difference to my opinons about a wide range of topics. I hope 2013 continues the trend of reading everything, evaluating my beliefs and opinions, and trying not to be a dick.

Colours!
It's an odd one, but those of you who know me will know I have the fashion sense of a colourblind clown, aka. ALL THE COLOURS ALL THE TIME. This has...escalated this year, and my cornea-burning fashion sense has gotten more and more ridiculous. And I love it. I honestly don't feel myself when I'm not wearing some kind of obscene colour combination. It's actually gotten to the point where excellent friends will tweet/text me when they're wearing a particularly colourful outfit and it's marvellous.

Enthusiasm
Seriously, the only thing that has got me through this monstrous year is being able to be enthusiastic about little things - a new episode of Doctor Who, a trip to the beach, a pub quiz. I'm so grateful for the fun stuff I get to do, for the opportunities I'm given, for the people I get to spend my time with. I'm a lucky bastard, all told. Thanking everyone individually would be time-consuming/self-serving/boring, so I will just go for a blanket THANK YOU to every single person in my life. I love you all. Yes, even you. And especially you.

Here's to 2013, all!

*This justification of why Call Me Maybe is the song of 2012 is absolutely brilliant. "This is what pop is for, right? A Canadian Idol refugee nobody ever heard of conquers the planet with a diabolically brilliant blast of teen lust"

Baby's First Conference

WELL. I thought post-dissertation life would mainly involve luxuriating in front of the TV watching endless repeats of Murder She Wrote, but it turns out to be even busier than before!

Alongside PhD applications, conference abstracts, and discussing potential teaching opportunities, I have started a new job; I'm now Project Officer for the Temporal Co-ordination in Communication project run jointly by York and Cambridge universities. My role sounds far more fancypants than it actually is, but basically I am working on gesture and rhythm in speech, and analysing audio and visual data in various ways to investigate how participants negotiate communication using both their voices and bodies. It's SUPER interesting, and I'm enjoying it immensely - I learn about eight thousand new things a day, and working on an actual linguistics research project is the most amazing opportunity.

Wednesday saw my lovely bestie Becky visit Grand Old York, and we had a fabulous time getting spontaneous piercings, exploring the city and the Minster and such (I love any opportunity to go Full Tourist; despite living here for a year, it never gets boring), and kicking through bright autumn leaves like the big kids we are. Subsequently joined by Ed, we all later prepared my house for a Hallowe'en party which went off wonderfully*, with costumes ranging from the typical (ghosts, skeletons, etc.) through a-typical (Caeser, Alice Cooper), to the quite magnificent (a zom-bee, from an apiologist friend). My offering was Daphne from Scooby Doo**:

Jinkies

Following a fantastic few days (and a discombobulating trip around Illuminating York, which you honestly couldn't have thought up unless you were in some kind of trippy fever dream), a different Becky and I headed off to Manchester for the New Researchers Forum in Linguistics, where we would both be presenting our MA research.

I've never been to a conference before, let alone presented at one, so the whole experience was terrifyingly exhilarating. I learnt a staggering amount (with several of the talks being directly relevant to my work, which was incredible), met some truly wonderful people I very much hope to see again, and according to Sam, did my first conference 'properly' i.e. went out to the pub the night before giving my presentation.

My talk had run long every single time I did it, but I think the nerves of the day brought out my usual, jabbery self and I garbled my way through it just on time without missing out too many important points. Questions were helpful and not too intimidating, and people were wonderfully lovely about the whole thing. I know I have a tendency to a) ramble and b) flail about, so it's good to know people got the jist despite my ridiculousness.

Giving it my best presentation face (photo by Becky).

I think the best bit about the weekend was just being able to casually chat about, amongst other things, linguistics and language with like-minded, lovely folk who are just as keen-beany as I am. Glorious. I can see why conferences are so addictive!

One final thing that came from the weekend was a sprawling Twitter-based game of #linguistmovies, which spread into #linguistsongs, and got so fun I decided to collect everything together here - a page which will no doubt be constantly extended, as we continue to furiously procrastinate from our real work by making terrible/excellent puns. Hell yeah, linguists.

*even with the presence of a Jimmy Savile costume, despite my assurance that I wouldn't let anybody in if they were dressed up like him. Not big or clever, guys.

**I'm more of a Velma myself, but my hair is the right colour for Daph.

Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.

Were this blog a real-life book, I would be dragging it out from under my bed and blowing dust off the cover. I have been spectacularly neglectful recently; dissertation-madness can take most of the blame, but in general it has been the most spectacularly awful two months*. Heartbreak! Family illness! Everyone I love having emotional breakdowns and crises at the same time! etc. etc. moan whinge.

I am only allowing myself the briefest of whines about all this gumph, however, because the whole damn point of this blog post is change! Newness! Epiphanies! I have one more week until I move into my new house for the year with a lovely bunch of new and old friends, and I am so ready for a change I can't even tell you. New house, new academic year, new ventures - I'm currently looking for work in York, while I spend the year applying for PhD schemes and funding. Really looking forward to getting to know new people, developing new skills and having a bit of a brain break. (Not too much, mind. I'm presenting at the Manchester Salford New Researchers Forum in Linguistics in November - aaaaaah!)

In amongst all the ANGST of the past few months, I have found both solace and eternal frustration in my dissertation, which I submitted eight days ago.

It liiiives.

My preeeecious. Good lord it's terrifying thinking that someone may currently by hacking at this with a red pen, cackling wildly at my terrible prose and ludicrous ideas. I'm working on a blog post that will (hopefully) explain the content of the thesis in non-linguisticky terms, so I will refrain from doing that now, but it has been a labour of love getting it done, and - much as I'm worried about the impending judgement - I'm proud of it.

The MA has finished with a fizzle rather than a bang. Variable deadlines, people going on holiday and a general bereft melancholy that has beset us all has meant that there wasn't really a definitive ending to the whole thing. The finicky time between submitting and moving house has been filled with seeing people before they leave, museum-visiting and frantic job-applying. I feel really lucky that I've made great friends with people from various far-flung corners of the world this year, and hope to visit lots of them in the future. Today's particularly tearful goodbye was to Ali and Bri, two wonderful, wonderful girls who have made this year immeasurably better. You know people are friends for life when they screech AVPM songs with you at 2am <3

And today? Today I have fallen in love with cycling. I bought some roller blades a couple of months ago; I was always more of a skatey child than a bikey one, so wanted to reignite my love of skating. I did, but the pavements and roads around York and prohibitively bad (cobbles! *shakes fist*), and it just wasn't viable to use it as a method of transportation. I'm going to keep skating recreationally, but I bought Ali's bike from her to give that a go instead.

IT'S WONDERFUL. I now wish I'd had a bike this year - I was so worried I'd be bad after so many years off, but, whaddya know, riding a bike really IS like riding a bike! I fancied getting out of the house today, so I cycled off with no particular destination in mind, and ended up accidentally cycling about 20 miles altogether! Around local villages, up and down the Ouse, and the whole Solar System route, all in beautiful sunshine, taking in the most wonderful Yorkshire scenery. My thighs may not forgive me tomorrow, and I am already suffering from sore butt syndrome, but it was such a wonderful way to spend and afternoon. I returned quite invigorated :)

Cycle-weary, but sunshiney happy.

At the final solar system point - Pluto. Still a planet, dammit!

More regular blog posts, including (I hope) more cycling adventures, to come!

*I appreciate I haven't updated since the end of May, but shh.

Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside

I am British. As such, when I experience freak, out-of-season sunshine, I roll up my trousers, throw on my douchebag sunglasses and defiantly bake myself. 'It's March!' the haterz cry, 'March, you fools!', yet I push my fingers into my ears and chime 'la la la I'm not listening' as my pale, pale skin pinkens within five minutes of seeing the sun.

Yes, for the last week we've been experiencing a HEATWAVE. I should, by all rights, dislike the sun, being the palest of pale Janets who burns preposterously easily, but as soon as the sun comes out I'm infected with SPRING FEVER, wherein I listen to happy-clappy folk music non-stop, skip in public and beam at strangers. I don't dislike the late-in-year seasons, but spring and summer are my favourites, and make me even more giddily enthusiastic than I already am. Which is saying something.

Caught up in the spirit of the sunshine, Becky and I decided that we very much needed to sack of any work we should have been doing and hotfoot it to the seaside. Enlisting Alex, Jamie and Ellen, we got an early train to Scarbrorough on Thursday morning, and spent the day being achingly touristy and embarrassing, and loving every second.

After eating our lunch on the beach at 10.30am (deciding early on that we were totally buying fish and chips later on), we steadfastly refused to move from the sand as the day took its sweet time heating up. (Hoodies on the beach - yeah, we did the whole, clichéd shebang.) Cheering when the sun finally showed its face, we proceeded to play tick, leapfrog and show off our manifold gymnastics skillz.

Y M C A!

Y O R K!

We then preceded to eat our bodyweight in seaside-y treats (fish and chips, ice-cream, doughnuts, rock), before making the sensible decision that we should swim in the North Sea. In March. Yup, five postgrad students thought that would be a good idea. We managed about half an hour of intermittently running in and out of the water and screaming bloody murder as it froze our respective reproductive organs, which was a thoroughly enjoyable endeavour despite it making our skin actually burn with the cold.

My cornea-burning fashion sense: let me show you it.

Sunny, smiley beachfolk.

It was basically the most delightful of days, spent with the most delightful of people, and was the perfect break from the essay madness that has been clutching us in its grasp. One assignment down, with another to go, plus two exams and a dissertation proposal to prepare for, it's been heavy duty, of late. But with seaside sojourns as joyful as this one a possibility, I realise how lucky and happy I am right now.

THINGS

You know what is delightful? THINGS. THINGS are delightful. Here, have some THINGS that are delightful.

A PICTURE. Specifically, a picture of Noam Chomsky and Morris Halle, holding a picture of themselves taken in 1988, wherein they are holding a picture of themselves taken in 1951. LINGUISTCEPTION. (source)



A VIDEO. Specifically, a video of Michael Buble being sassy and ridiculous, and then adorable and hilarious as he sings with a 15-year-old kid from his audience. 'Holy shitballs, mom!' - BUBLE YOU CHARMING FUCKER.

Interviewer: If three spirits appeared before you on Christmas eve, what would they have to show you to change your beliefs?

Brian Cox: It's my view that the existence of ghosts would contravene the second law of thermodynamics. The principle of the conservation of energy, and the fact that entropy always increases; you'd be hard put to throw that away. You'd have to rip the book up; that's what it would imply if you saw a ghost. I would say, "I could not be any more surprised than I am by the fact that thermodynamics appears to be shit."

A QUOTE. Specifically, a quote from the magnificent Brian Cox, sciencey sex god and specimen of Northern excellence.

You know what else is delightful? An afternoon spent with tip-top humans making mince pies and extolling the virtues of hyperbole, and an evening spent exchanging crude and inappropriate Secret Santa gifts. I love ALL THESE THINGS.

Sorry, I'm jovial. Humour me.