The PP to the PQ

Those of you who read the Puella (you all should, you know) ought to note that she will be blogging for the next 37 1/2 days from this place.

Update your feeds.

In case you'r unfamiliar, here's a taste:

Actually I think geography is a scandal anyway. Let me tell you why.

Go on, PP, tell us! Tell us!

All right, seeing as you insist. I was one of those children who could read when they started school and figured out the principle of perspective when it came to drawing classes before anyone thought to use a word as long and as Latinate as “perspective” within my earshot.

Er, and that means….?

It means that I figured out that when the class was told to “draw a table” (look, we were six!), two legs would have to be shorter than the other two. And the flat bit on top would look funny. My classmates thought I was being stupid and that I would surely get sent to the Headmaster (one Mr. Bellis, a ferocious man who terrified the daylights out of all of us, unless it was your birthday - it was never mine, mine was always in half-term - when he gave you a lolly. Best Headmaster ever). I thought it was just bleedin’ obvious. My teacher was astounded. Then she (Mrs. Cook, wearer of pink fluffy body-warmers) taught me the word “perspective.”

Right. And this is going…

I’m getting there. I was also the kid who would pester my father to teach me about angles and degrees and stuff.

This is remarkable because…?

I was seven.

Oh. Yes. That does sound a little odd. Weren’t you into Barbies?

Yes. And My Little Pony. But I tried to convince Barbie to ride Majesty whilst constructing an equilateral triangle.

You were a strange child, PP.

Tell me about it. Anyway.

Anyway.

Anyway. Maths isn’t really my father’s forte, being as he is a humanities teacher.

Er-

History and Geography.

Oh.

And so I grew up with a rather traditional idea of what Geography would be like when I FINALLY got to do it at high school. It would be cool! We’d spend our lessons examining maps and learning about boundary changes and where different tribes of people live and originated from and the suchlike. It was going to be SO cool.

…but…

But that’s not what Geography turned out to be like.

No?

No.

Well…what WAS it like then?

We…they…well…the first lesson was about shopping.

This sounds like my kind of school.

Shaddup. We learnt about different types of shops. And then weather systems. And then the two major ways in which waterfalls are formed (which I can still recall now, incidentally).

Well that’s all very logical. Human geography, climate, and physical geography. Right?

It wouldn’t have been so bad. But they NEVER EVER taught us about WHERE STUFF WAS. Four years of high school and not a globe nor atlas in sight. I learnt more about border conflicts in the Middle East and the former USSR by watching (*spit*) the BBC rather than at school.

Thank goodness I pestered my parents enough to get a nice big kick-bottom world atlas for my birthday. It had sections on each continent. Including North America. And here’s the crux.

…..wellllllll…..

It clearly stated that North America consisted of three countries. Mexico, the USA, and Canada.

Not Greenland?

That’s in Europe. Norway. And stuff.

Ok. And…?

Well somewhere, somehow, they’ve scandalously shifted the North/South American boundary. Apparently now all those little bits between Mexico and Columbia are now also in North America. Plus all the bits floating around in the Caribbean! I’m scandalised. SCANDALISED, I tell you!

PP?

Yes?

PP…don’t you have work to do? Like, an MA to finish?

Shaddup.

...

I don’t remember the last time I saw 3:50am. The last time there was an all-night Adoration vigil, maybe? Which was…about eighteen months ago. Yikes!

This evening was spent reading a paper and making notes. Then I listened to Fr. Z’s newest podcast…and then it was 1am! So I started getting ready for bed, feeling tired…and now here I am, feeling even more tired, but unable to sleep. Rats!

My usual tactic in such situations is to lie here and think myself to sleep. But seeing as it’s nearly four in the morning I may just plod on with some work.

I hope no-one’s hoping I’m going to be happy and chatty tomorrow at Mass!