miss_newham

My plans for mudlarking on Saturday were thwarted when all my trains were cancelled. It took me three hours to get to Lincoln’s Inn Fields where I was going for a picnic so I didn't have time to mudlark as well.

On Sunday, I broke a bowl, dropped it on the floor and it smashed, and I held up a triangular sherd and wondered whether people would find the sherd from my bowl in the future, with a peri-peri flavour. I wondered if I should take it to the foreshore.

On the Sunday though, the trains were running again, so I headed to Blackfriars. The blue Croc was still there that I saw on Friday. I walked along a wooden plank that had washed up. It was a hot day but at that time I was the only one on the foreshore.

I picked up more small black tiles, but one had the corner damaged.

I heard music from a busker by the station.

I was no longer feeling how I used to when I started mudlarking, no feeling of Flow, no clearing of the mind. I wondered if I'd grown bored of it and should play more Ingress.

I seem to have trained my eyes to spot pottery sherds but I would like to find other things more as I have a lot of sherds now.

I found a cork and when I got it home I realised it said “Kylie Minogue” on it. I hadn't realised Kylie Minogue wine existed and you can buy it at Sainsbury's.

I found a red piece that could be a bit of brick or tile that looks like it says “Taylor” on it.

I found some glass that looked like it said “ord” on it. Ordinary?

I found a sherd that says “don” and presumably once said “London”.

--
I headed to Wapping after that, as the tide got lower.

While I had been to the Prospect of Whitby (the Pelican Stairs) before I hadn't been to the other bit of Wapping - accessed through the New Crane Stairs.

The steps there were missing at the bottom, replaced with boulders, so I used the green slimy wall for balance.

I thought I was alone there on the foreshore until I noticed the people fishing, with their lines cutting off part of the shore. I walked in the opposite direction and walked along the foreshore to Wapping Pier.

I saw Canada Geese and goslings lying on the foreshore.

I passed one set of stairs that had been removed - Wapping Dock Stairs. There were a few concrete steps to start with but the metal stairs that were once there were no longer.

King Henry's Stairs at Execution Dock, near to Wapping Pier were actually just a metal ladder.

I walked back to the New Crane Stairs.

I saw a duck with five ducklings following, moving fast across the foreshore.

I saw a man in the Thames, water up to his shorts, spear fishing.

I enjoyed Wapping as it was somewhere new - maybe that was the problem earlier, lack of novelty at Blackfriars. It also felt vast and quieter without all the tourists walking past.

I found a lot of pottery sherds in Wapping - I am collecting blue and white ones currently for a mosaic, but there was one that looked almost like a nose, one with a letter ‘E’ and various pieces with patterns I haven't seen before. There was also some glass that had degraded and looked so pretty.

cosmolinguist

D and I both are encouraged by the healthcare system to take our blood pressure more regularly and/or without the white-coat syndrome (that one's me, though it's not "I'm stressed to be at the doctor's office" so much as "I'm stressed about the anti-fatness I must tolerate imminently in order to sometimes get the healthcare I need").

We had to measure our upper arms today in order to make sure the machine we're ordering has a cuff big enough.

And it turns out they are the same circumference! To the centimeter. How romantic!

squirmelia

I attended an Ambient Lit workshop at Voidspace and we were asked to take a walk and take notes and photos. I took a random card and it said “dog” on it.

–

I am a dog.

I walk through a puddle.

I sniff a bag of rubbish with a coffee cup in.

I am curious about a traffic cone.

I am looking at the road and pavement a lot. There's an intriguing drain cover, I look at the bottom of a bollard.

Another bag of rubbish I sniff at.

I see people waving their arms about and wonder about barking at them.

I walk past a flower on the pavement.

I am lingering longer.

I go up a narrow alleyway and end up at a dead end, so turn around.

I haven't seen any other dogs. I hope to.

An interesting Ironworks sign on the pavement.

A drain cover clonks as I walk over it.

There are no balls to chase.

I bark at some pigeons.

I sniff something on the ground.

I chase pigeons

I want to bark at the policemen.

The ground says Shallow.

I think I've found another dog! Woof! Woof!

I run away from my owner to get back to the theatre on time.

cosmolinguist

I read about this NatGeo documentary about Sally Ride last week and D and I watched the first half or so tonight (before I got too sleepy).

I remember being floored by a photo of Sally Ride in space, in the shuttle, that I saw in my social studies textbook in I wanna say third or fourth grade. American women could go to space. I think I was probably just about grown out of my desire to be an astronaut by this point (I'd seriously considered it until I decided my mom would worry too much about me so it wasn't a good idea...seeing how much she still worries about me, this seems very astute (the fact that I can't see did not occur to me as a dealbreaker until I was much older, by the way)) but I was fantastically interested in astronauts and the space shuttle (I had a toy version, complete with the truck to slot it on to for the drive across the country), the Voyagers still encountering planets at the time, and all that.

Reading about and especially watching the documentary now, I'm struck by how familiar parts of her story are. Never showed her emotions? Had parents who never modeled how to? (In a way that's referred to as "Norwegian"?!) This shit could literally be taken from my counseling sessions, heh.

This person as remote as the space she traveled to still feels as close as I was to that social studies textbook in elementary school.

squirmelia

It was a hot day and I went to Cousin Lane Stairs to start with and took my hiking pole this time to get over the boulders, which worked well, but I am still wary of the tide there as I haven't spent enough time there to know how long it's safe for.

The Banker pub just at the top of the stairs was busy with people enjoying the sunshine and their beers. One or two people sat on the foreshore for a bit, but I was the only person on the foreshore across the boulder, past Cannon Street railway bridge.

The first thing I found was a plastic card that had a sticker saying “Billy Hicks”.

I also found what looks like the top of a teapot, a few other sherds, and a little yellow bit, which was probably once part of a brick and is now perhaps a Thames potato.

My second location was near the Millennium Bridge and there were a few mudlarkers there. I watched a cormorant enjoying the water.

I picked up an oyster shell with a circular hole in it. I don’t usually pick up shells but I recently read that they may have been used as tiles.

I found a white sherd with a lion mark on it, a sherd with colourful flowers, and a yellow piece with a pie crust edge. I also found another brown star to go with my brown star collection.

“Have you found anything good?” I was asked as I reached the top of the stairs.

My third location was back to Blackfriars and it felt cooler as I walked across the bridge. There was a nice breeze and also some shade under the bridge.

It was nice to just walk along by the river, but then the thoughts came, too many thoughts. I guess that’s the thing with mudlarking - sometimes it clears my mind and I can just focus on the foreshore, and other times as I can’t distract myself by looking at a phone or anything, the thoughts pile on in.

On the top of the pile of bones was a plastic blue shoe, a Croc.

I found a piece of glass that says “PER” on it, which could perhaps once have said “SUPERIOR”.

I found a nice piece of combed slipware, that has a red outline.

I found some nice pebbles and another small black tile to go with my collection.

cosmolinguist

Happy Nystagmus Awareness Day. I wrote a kind of FAQ about nystagmus a while ago.

I had to explain the basics of what nystagmus is to the assessor who did my PIP assessment the other day. (They used to at least tell you they were a physio or a nurse or whatever, now they don't even bother letting on how unqualified they are to be assessing your particular condition.)

Oh speaking of, I got a phone call today, from an 800 number I'd been ignoring for a few days because it never left a message or anything. I mostly answered it by accident today. And it turned out to be from Maximus or whichever shitty entity the DWP have outsourced their assessments to in my region, saying they need more information from me so now I have to talk to them on the phone on Monday! Ugh. I've never had this happen before.

Got a text this morning saying that I need to book a blood test before I get more meds too. Ugh! More needles and more lectures about being fat. Not a fun day for admin relating to having a body!

squirmelia

Wednesday involved no mudlarking, as the tide was too high, but I did walk along the river past Queenhithe, where you are definitely not allowed to mudlark. It is a Scheduled Ancient Monument and has the remains of an old dock there. There are signs beside it and a mosaic, but although I’d read the signs previously, I'd never paid too much attention to it.

I could see sherds and pipes and oyster shells on the foreshore from standing on the path beside it though.

The PLA map has Queenhithe marked in red, but intriguingly on their map, it looks like you could mudlark just to the side of it, or in front of it, if the tide was out enough. I would worry though that I wouldn't know where the line was between allowed and definitely not.

squirmelia

A butterfly landed on a feather. A little egret flew away. The crows cawed loudly. And me? I was asked if I'd lost something.

I hadn't, of course, I was looking for sherds. Today's finds:

Last time I looked there, I found my first piece of pipe! I also found a sherd with "Maddock" on it, and I found out that John Maddock was a Stoke-on-Trent potter who started in 1830, and John Maddock & Sons continued until 1980.

Some more sherds, mostly blue and white:

squirmelia

I had read that it was possible to get onto the foreshore at Fishmonger’s Hall Wharf but when I got there, I found a ladder which I was reluctant to climb.

I peered over and could see people on the foreshore.

I walked along the river further, wondering if there was another way down, until I found steps outside the Banker pub. Cousin Lane Stairs according to Google Maps. They were decent steps and I headed down to the foreshore. To get to a further bit involved going underneath Cannon Street railway bridge and climbing over a few boulders and I used a soggy algae covered wall for balance. Next time I might take my hiking pole.

It was only about 20 minutes since low tide, but I felt unsure about how long it would remain accessible for. It didn't matter though that day as I didn't have time to linger.

I only picked up two sherds:

cosmolinguist

I knew it'd be awful but the PIP assessment was really awful.

I've mostly had nice assessors in the past, which helps as much as anything can. But this one wasn't doing a good job of hiding her glee at her petty power over me. Mean-girl vibes.

When we told V we were having coffee and cake afterward, they expressed their approval and said they'd hoped I would be. I said I learned this from them the first time I had one of these fucking assessments and they went along with me: they had to buy me the cake after that because I was too poor to do it myself, so I remember it.

V replied: "They will not be allowed to take away our joy." Damn right.

cosmolinguist

The meme that goes "what a week/Captain, it's Wednesday"?

I basically said both parts of that myself today, in a meeting with an equally tired and frazzled colleague.

And it was only much later that I realized.

It isn't even Wednesday today. It's only Tuesday.

First thing tomorrow morning I have my PIP assessment. It's for a review from 2024 of a decision made in 2021. So much has happened. Looking over my descriptions from both these documents tonight, I am overwhelmed.

After the assessment, I will rush in to avpresentation for a webinar with a couple of colleagues (which is actually way more stressful than doing it myself). As long as the DWP's (expensive outsourced) assessors don't keep me waiting an arbitrary amount of time for it as one of their little games, something they are known to do.

squirmelia

I was going to visit the Thames Barrier and wanted to go mudlarking on the way, but didn't quite manage to.

I started at Woolwich - the first set of stairs I looked down were too muddy and the foreshore was similar. The second set, I walked down but they got muddier and I started slipping so turned back. A man saw me doing this and told me there were steps further on that would be better. We walked together to the steps but then found them padlocked.

The steps nearest to the Thames Barrier, outside the Hope & Anchor pub (now closed) seemed to be missing steps and also looked very slippery, so I gave them a miss too.

So mudlarking 19 did not happen that day, and instead the day after.

I headed to Rotherhithe and it was blissfully quiet, I was the only person on the foreshore.

I found a few pieces of shoe soles and picked one up, wondering if anyone had worn it or if it was just surplus.

I found some pottery sherds and a few pieces of glass, and a few bits of pipe.

I headed back up the steps.

“Are you okay?” a man asked after I'd taken my gloves off and wiped my nose.
“Yeah”, I said, nodding.
“Are you a tourist or you live around here?” he asked.
“Neither,” I replied, and he walked off before I could elaborate, seeming annoyed. Then he started cheering random joggers who were running past, who looked at him confused.

I headed to Limehouse after that and there were Canada Geese and goslings, and swans.

I found my first face! I am not sure who he is, although he looks familiar somehow. It may have been part of a Bellarmine jug.

I found quite a lot of sherds with words on:

“Oat” - A part of what looks like a small white pot that says “oat” on the bottom. It seems there was once a face cream called Oatine, so this little pot likely held that. It looks like Oatine was sold in the UK from 1905 to 1960s, but was most popular around the 1920s. Article I found on Oatine: Oatine: The food for the complexion.

“unt” - a small sherd with what looks like “unt” visible. The letter before could have been a “o” so perhaps it spelt county or mount?

“ho” - a sherd where most of the glaze has come off and all that is left looks like it spells “ho”.

Also glass shards with words on:

“ark” - this shard was obviously from Noah’s Ark.

“c.” - a nice letter c and a full stop, but whether the rest of the word was Isaac or maniac or automatic, I don't know.

“by” - possibly, or it could be “ry”, but I think it looks more like “by”.

One where they are obviously letters but what remains of them is too difficult for me to tell.

I found a terracotta coloured stone that looks like it has a little pink heart on it.

I found a button and a blue circle of glass with two holes, which could have been a button also but it could have been on a necklace, perhaps?

Limehouse finds are colourful!

cosmolinguist

The way my voice now resonates in my body feels better to me than I ever thought it could.

I was thinking of this this morning because I talked with a fellow trans dude about singing over the weekend; him dealing with changes to his range made me ponder how I've been kinda avoiding trying to find what my singing might be like?

I know voice training and documenting changes, in speaking and singing, is a Thing for a lot of trans people but the notion gave me big anxiety so I've stayed away from it.

Today I am carefully singing along with the radio (in the sense that I am doing it with care, rather than just finding myself doing so while I am working or whatever) and I don't really care how I sound but I love how it feels.

I said this on fedi and was charmed to have one of my dadliest friends (who we call Other Erik because he's another Erik) say

I hope you never lose that joy! For my part, I still love the feeling and I’ve had a mature low “adult” voice for over 30 years. I find myself humming low-range tunes to myself rather frequently just for the feeling of it in my chest.

It's nice to know it can stay fun for that long!

cosmolinguist

I had a fun time tonight watching D play a very silly round of Hardspace: Shipbreaker, which then got surprisingly stressful and harrowing for a game about taking spaceships apart, and then had an eventful and actually sweet cutscene.

cosmolinguist

Ever since D's girlfriend broke her leg while roller skating last weekend, my ankle has been sore, something it hardly ever does any more and I've done nothing physical (like walk a lot) to cause it.

So I have tried yelling "Shut up, this is clearly psychosomatic! You're fine!" at it. Repeatedly.

Disappointingly, this doesn't seem to be working. (I didn't really expect it to. I'm just saying it woulda been nice if it did, is all!)

cosmolinguist

Today for work, I saw someone spell fisticuffs as "fisty cuffs" and a) that is adorable and b) it also makes me realize what a strange word fisticuffs is!

So naturally I looked it up.

c. 1600, fisty cuffes, from fist (n.) + cuff (n.) "a blow", with the form perhaps in imitation of handiwork.

Well! That's such a boring etymology, but... nice to see the spelling returned to something more like the original!

I said this on fedi and a friend's response has been delighting me ever since:

I always misread it as fishticuffs, so always had an image in my head of some kind of betta fish boxing, complete with gloves over fins

That made me giggle. They're an artist so I asked if they would draw this some time. I am wondering how a fish gets boxing gloves on its fins...

cosmolinguist

My ex-husband knows and thinks and cares so much about Brian Wilson that I feel like I shared a polycule with the man.

Wandering around the house tonight, doing the last chores of the evening while the Doof is finishing up, I hear "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times" and I still know all the words, still remember the pained 20somethings Andrew and I were when we met and he introduced me to this weird lonely musician and all his feelings which were also our weird lonely feelings.

There was always something terribly melancholy for me in Brian Wilson's music -- there's a demo of "Still I Dream of It" that used to make me so sad that just thinking about the song made me cry uncontrollably -- and all the more once I left my marriage and never really listened to the Beach Boys any more. And the odd time I hear them, on the radio or like now, I'm always a little thrown by how weird the commercially-released songs sound, without all the unreleased versions layered over them in my mind because those were more common in my marital home (like I said: Not a parasocial relationship for me, but a parasocial metamour).

D made sure I heard the news, and I texted Andrew once I did. I just couldn't let such a thing go by without saying I was thinking of him.

I think both Brian Wilson and Andrew eventually "found the thing they can put their heart and soul in to," as the song goes, and I'm really glad for that.

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miss_newham

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Reading

Mudlarking - 22 - Kylie & spear fishing

Matchy-matchyy

I am a dog

(no subject)

Mudlarking 21 - Billy Hicks and a teapot

Bodies!

Queenhithe

Park sherds - lost

Mudlarking - 20

PIP assessment

Overwhelmed

Mudlarking 19 - Oatine and a face

Part 2 of Things About My Voice

Success is not the key to happiness, happiness is the key to success

Screm at own ankle

Something fishy!

They say I got brains

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January 2025

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