by Murph E.
I have lost possession of the bludger
This is something that I’m very proud of: McGill Quidditch is sending a team to the Quidditch World Cup in New York on the weekend of November 13-14, and I made the World Cup team.
Not only that, but I’m on the A-team!
In celebration, here is some photo evidence that I actually do play Quidditch, for the sceptics out there.
I am getting hit by a bludger
These photos are from this Saturday’s practice, which was cold and miserable, to start out with. After a while, I warmed up, but it took some time and effort, and I kept my huge McGill rugby shirt on the whole time.
The hardest part about being a beater on a Quidditch team in the cold is that your fingers freeze, and so it’s hard to grip the bludger. And it’s not like I could put on gloves for next time or anything—that would make it even harder to hold onto the bludger.
I am in possession of a bludger
Here are a few pro-tips for aspiring young beaters. According to the IQA rulebook, you can kick a bludger into your opponent and it counts as a hit. This may change your beginning-of-game strategy and your tactics for recovering the bludger as well. Also, I discovered recently that the bludgers were deflated partially on purpose, and that they would also be deflated like that at the World Cup. This means that I can actually grab the bludger and throw it overhand, and it gives me a lot more flexibility with what I do with it.
I will end this post with a bit of speculation. There is a rumour that JK Rowling will be in New York during the World Cup. I wonder if she will attend. I will be bringing my camera to the event, and if I see her, I will try to get someone to take a photograph of me with her in the background. :)
by Murph E.
I’ve been slowly working my way through Dickens’ Great Expectations as my most recent Metro reading. (The last thing I was reading on the Metro was The Deptford Trilogy, and before that, Nikolski, both of which I recommend.)
Right now, I’m at the point where the escaped convict reveals himself to be the mysterious benefactor of the protagonist. I’ve never read it before, so don’t spoil it for me if you know how it ends!
Here is a list of three fun words whose meanings I have learned while reading this book:
If you legitimately know the meanings of all these words without looking them up, you get three points.
by Murph E.
Hobo the cat, a.k.a. "Stealth Kitty"
My parents have adopted a stray cat. It’s white and orange, and they call it Hobo. Alternately, it goes by the name of Stealth Kitty.
by Murph E.
Lots of papers
Wish me luck.
by Murph E.
In Scarborough
I am on my way home for Thanksgiving. I’m testing out an experimental way of getting home: the Kijiji rideshare. Basically, the way it works is that someone who’s making a trip, say from Montréal to Toronto, would post an offer on Kijiji, and people who also need to make the same trip will reply and agree to pay a certain sum of money to come along.
I worked out two rideshares. One from Montréal to Toronto and one from Toronto to London, which is pretty close to Stratford. The major appeal is the price. It’s way cheaper than taking the train. You just have to be a bit flexible with your travel schedule, that’s all.
At the moment, I’m at the place where the two connect, the Scarborough City Centre, where I’ll be for a few hours yet. If anyone is in the area, give me a call! :P
by Murph E.
Potato and leek soup
I made potato and leek soup. And it turned out very well if I do say so myself. :)
The cookbook said the recipe was so simple, it was medieval. I’m okay with that. It tastes good. I put in twice the amount of butter that the recipe called for. Now it’s even better!
by Murph E.
Lionel-Groulx
This morning I got up and I actually got out the door early for the class that I’m a TA for. I got on the Metro and when I arrived at station Lionel-Groulx, I discovered that there the Metro was not running on the green line, and would not be until my class was halfway done.
I surfaced at that station and thought about taking a bus but I had no idea which bus would get me to campus or whether it would be any better than waiting for the Metro, so I just admitted defeat and ordered a cab.
I was five minutes late. Grr.
by Murph E.
My application is done and submitted now. That seems strange to me, since I’ve been working on the thing since July. All I have to do now is wait for the results, and I don’t even know how well I did on the MCAT yet! Those results will be forwarded to the appropriate places for me automatically.
I have to finish my application for my Plan B, but that isn’t due until February.
I’m kind of excited to find out where I might be going next year, or if I’m going anywhere at all. Surprisingly, I find that I’m really hoping to get into Memorial University in St John’s, Newfoundland. We’ll see, though. Med school is competitive, and so I might take a few years to get in.
It’s just the waiting that’s the really hard part.
by Murph E.
Last night was my first Quidditch practice. I showed up on the McGill field in my gym clothes, wearing my big boots, and carrying a broom.
It was fantastic. It rained the whole time.
Here’s how the game works, for the non-initiate. You can play one of a number of positions: you can be a chaser, whose goal is to throw the quaffle through one of the opposing team’s three hula hoops, or you can be a beater (this one was my favourite) whose goal was to throw one of three bludgers at the other team’s chasers or beaters. The keeper is the goal-tender, and the seeker chases the Golden Snitch (in the case of last night’s game, a small girl dressed in white and yellow.
In order to participate, one had always to be straddling a broom, and the team had some excellent-looking brooms at their disposal, I must say. The only exception is that when a chaser or beater is hit by a bludger of the opposing team’s, that player must get off his broom and run around his team’s goal-posts.
I’m not sure how points are calculated. The game ends when the seeker catches the Golden Snitch of course.
The game is very fun to play on its own merits, to say nothing of the sheer silliness of playing a sport based on a game for fictional flying witches.
Because of the torrential rain last night, we were all soaked and muddy by the time the practice was over. After the game, I noticed a number of the other players literally sliding through the mud in the field that we had so unceremoniously destroyed. When I got to the Metro station, covered in mud and dripping wet, a girl from the other side of the platform must have noticed my broom and figured out what I had been up to, because she called across to me, “How was Quidditch?”
