This week I had a bit of a wobble. I was doing some reading before a lecture and wondeered had I taken on too much. It was grammar. I was questioning if I even knew the English language and how to write it at all as I read about the comma splice, nominalisations, dangling bits and bobs etc. You get the picture. It seems that in Australia they went through a few decades where grammar wasn’t taught in schools. This made me try to remember my own early days at school and if I can recall learning grammar – well I don’t. It was back in the seventies and apparently the UK stopped teaching grammar around that time as well so as I started school in London I obviously lost out. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Fortunately I have some very good friends in the class who are happy to help out and know more than me. I actually thought everyone knew it all but that’s not the case. Such a relief. By the way I’ve discovered I,m not the oldest in the class so that’s good.
The next day we had a research lecture and I was looking at the first assingment which is a literature review and the topic is strong female characters in science fiction still don’t play the same scope of roles as males or something like that. I have to review the literature ont he subject and be able to analyse and support my own conclusions and add to knowledge. Deep breath I can do this.
Some peopl ehave asked me do I get lonely here and miss home. Of course I miss my other half and buy do I miss my dog Gizmo but I have not had an occasion where I am sitting wondering what to do or feeling bored or isolated. That’s not because I have made loads of friends to go out with I haven’t been out much at all. It’s simply that I have good classmates who I interact with, all my classes are in the evening when you are more likely to get bored and I’m too busy doing coursework or looking for jobs to be bored.
Yeah that’s the subject of another wobble – the job front. It is hard because I can only work 20 hours a week and I admit I am struggling but in fairness I had not anticpated getting a job in the first couple of months anyway. I am looking at entry level jobs to get my foot in the door so to speak and am confident something will come up. If not I will simply have to start writing books very quickly, self publish and get all of you to buy them!
I’ve discovered I like my own company being able to do what I want when I want, not being told off for not cleaning dishes properly etc. I have got the internet up and running so can get some tv series and movies on the box. But I got addicted to a programme called married at first sight where couples are matched by experts and the first time they meet is when they get married. I don’t think they get married legally but they move in together full time and it’s full on. I know it’s totally stupid but I am addicted which I can’t understand because I never got into big brother, I’m a celebrity, etc. The finale is Sun to Wed next week and I can’t wait.
I’m going to leave you with this which I am sure is funny if you understnad it but I am still working my way through it. Credit to whoever wrote it!
A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly.
A bar was walked into by the passive voice.
An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening.
Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.”
A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite.
Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything.
A question mark walks into a bar?
A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly.
Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Get out — we don’t serve your type.”
A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud.
A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart.
A synonym strolls into a tavern.
At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar — fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack.
A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment.
Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor.
A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered.
An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel.
The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known.
A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned a man with a glass eye named Ralph.
The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense.
A dyslexic walks into a bra.
A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines.
An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television getting drunk and smoking cigars.
A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert.
A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget.
A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony.
Irishgrannystudyinginoz 