Sunday, 15 September 2013

Tales of a new lecturer

Thanks Winston
I recently acquired an academic lecturing role, a position to which I have strived for the majority of my adult life (post-I want to write a fiction novel days).

Linked to this I recently had an interesting conversation over a few pints of local ale about belonging to a place. Various international friends discussed where they truly felt that they belonged and why they felt this way. Coming up to the end of my 20s I've begun to think about belonging a lot, it's something that suddenly matters when the haze of dropping everything and moving at the drop of a hat calms down and you begin to value stability. Where do I belong?

During the conversation I began to think back over the adult years of my life. I belonged in Swansea, it was my home, a place that formed me and shaped me into the person I am now. I equally belonged in Australia, a place where I felt my esteem suddenly rose, facing endless challenges that I previously believed were impossible with relative ease and meeting people who I related to, loved and who loved me back exactly as I was.

Re-tracing my mental steps I stopped and realised where I've always felt an unwavering sense of belonging, and that is at University. I remember vividly when this epiphany happened. I was standing outside of Swansea University library armed with a reading list for a dozen new modules and faced with the challenge of navigating the library and the journal archive. It was exhilarating, frightening and for the first time I had the sense that I had complete control over my destiny, and not only that. The people who surrounded me were interesting and all dying to learn.

I knew from that moment as a lost 18 year old I knew that I'd never leave University.

So fast forward 11 years later and I'm doing what I love. Academia cops a lot of stick, Psychology has often been branded as a University's cash cow, drawing in hundreds upon hundreds of students each year, some of them leaving with no direction upon what to do next. Academia also involves a lot of postulation, a lot of thinking and drinking coffee at relative leisure. It certainly doesn't require the same amount of emotional and physical energy to run around a busy Emergency department at midnight cannulating a bunch of drunk teenagers.

However, academia despite all of it's flaws, is a wonderful and noble profession, made more wonderful when you love and believe in what you research and care about what your students learn. As i'm slowly learning the ropes, collating a number of year's post-doctoral experiences into one I've started to learn the lesson of what it takes to be a successful lecturer. Good organisation.

Being a lecturer is like collating every single role you've adopted over the course of your academic training. Whereas I spent a year musing over a paper and analysing data, suddenly you only have an afternoon. Whereas I had been paid full time to write grants. Now I have to write them on a Sunday afternoon whilst squeezing in a little bit of pleasure reading. Whereas I had months to think about lectures, now I have days. Academia is about juggling and prioritising.

Upon preparation for my new role I did what I do best and that's do my research. I searched for resources and accounts of experiences to tell me what I should expect and what I should do. I came back empty handed, only finding depressing articles documenting the abysmal success rate for young female academics rising within the profession (http://www.theguardian.com/higher-education-network/blog/2012/may/24/why-women-leave-academia).

So here are my top 10 tips of how to not lose your marbles in academia:

1. Study what you love and think about what you truly want to change
2. Be prepared for research to be slow, at times agonising and for no change to ever happen overnight
3. Get involved in periphery projects that you might not have considered before. It's because of helping out with an obscure paper that I research what I do now
4. Be persistent and don't take things personally. There's no point crying over reviewer 3 implying that you are an idiot. Re-write, take it on the chin and move on
5. Try and put yourself in the student's shoes when they are nagging and generally being a pain. They are 18, hungover and away from home for the first time
6. Treat students like adults and try to inspire them rather than tell them what to do
7. Go to smaller, more focussed conferences of 100 people rather than huge international generalised meetings
8. Keep abreast of what's actually going on in the real world to get perspective on your topic
9. Believe in your ideas, twice I doubted myself and my credibility only to find that a big wig at Harvard published a paper on the exact thing 6 months later
10. Stop feeling guilty about everything. You don't have to be writing 24/7, sometimes the best ideas come when you're not thinking about them

And finally, the best thing you can do is to take good advice from people you respect. I learnt very early on that until you've held an academic position for a long time, you are an amateur. I slowly learnt to collate advice from an assortment of people prior to making any major decisions. The biggest turning point in my career was deciding to leave Australia, something that held an enormous amount of emotion for me independent to what I did. My boss (most handily a psychiatrist) told me one thing, take the emotion out of the situation and make a decision based upon what is right for you next.

And there we have it, I boarded a plane, took a job that was right rather than struggling to get by in a million different smaller positions. Something that incredibly tough but was absolutely the right decision at the right time.

So there you have it young, especially female, aspiring academics. Be bold, believe in your ideas and yourself, take risks, throw yourself by the neck out of your comfort zone and prepare for life to take you in exciting, wonderful and life changing directions.

Good luck!
HYKAEI

Monday, 9 September 2013

An Ode to Summer and to Stonefruit

The dessert equivalent of a fruity snog from someone you rather fancy
This little piece is about the humble stone fruit. It's been a great season for apricots, nectarines, peaches and plums this year. Early summer as the days hinted at warmth I ate them as they were, early sunlight streaming through the skylight, hacking off pieces with a little paring knife while I distractedly read the paper.

As August progressed and the weather settled into a constant steady heat I felt they needed jazzing up a little, one sunny afternoon they accompanied a fruity Wensleydale from the local farmers market and some idle girly chatter. Another relaxed evening they happily plonked themselves in some honeyed Greek yoghurt stacked high with bashed walnuts.

As the season draws to a close and the nights get colder, they, just like I, deserve to be warmed up a little.

Last night I roasted a whole heap of them with some vanilla and served the hot syrupy, sweet and gooey fruits with some beautiful cold organic ice cream.

If you aren't salivating yet, I don't want to speak to you any more.

Also, here's the recipe.

Roasted Stonefruits for a Chilly September night (c/o BBC GoodFood)

Ingredients 

175g of golden caster sugar
1 vanilla pod (split in two)
5 cardamom pods
Zest and the juice of 1 lime
6 apricots, halved and stoned (no illicit substances here)
3 peaches, quartered and stoned
3 nectarines, quartered and stoned
I also added 2 plums because they looked lonely

First, pre-heat your oven to get a bit of warmth in your kitchen brrr. Next get out your trusty food processor. If you don't have one, then go buy one! Now! They are only around £30, you have no excuse.

Once you've returned back from John Lewis with your brand new food processor (welcome back and congratulations, you won't regret it), blitz your sugar, lime junk, cardamom pods (not the whole thing, just the seeds- I probably should have mentioned that earlier), your vanilla pod (callously split in two and hacked to pieces) and all your sugar.

Now, I know what you're thinking, holy fuck that's a lot of sugar. And you are right. But just go with it.

So whizz all of that together until your sugar goes all soggy and awesome and then pour into a baking dish over all your nicely cut up fruit. I added my desecrated vanilla pods into the mix as well, mainly because they cost me a bloody fortune and they make it look all 'Jamie Oliver'.

Stick it in your hot oven for about 20-25 minutes, keep an eye on it and move the fruit around if some are looking more sticky and brilliant than others.

I served mine with Green and Blacks Organic ice cream, and whole lot of laughs.

Bye bye Summer, Autumn, let's be 'avin you!

Friday, 6 September 2013

Foodie Sitting Still


I’ve recently discovered the wondrous joy of sitting still in my life. It has been a conscious effort to do so, a mysterious warm comfort blanket of stability, of knowing where I’m going to live and work for the next couple of years, of setting down roots to nurture into a sturdy oak upon which I can lean and read my Kindle. For a frantic frequent traveller who has been a post-doc in flux for four busy years. This feels remarkably nice.

I made the decision to sit still after a recent spate of awful travelling luck. It began in Stockholm, having been privy to a delayed flight and having the misfortune to arrive into Heathrow as bewildered as a baby deer as the whole terminal was in a state of chaos due to wayward plane catching fire resulting in a temporary shut down. You don't need me to tell you that Heathrow in crisis at 2am is not a fun place to be. The mania of fraught, worried and wordless Swedes, the screaming of understandably cranky children, the patience-wearing-thin-but-still-wearing-a-veil-of-politeness British Airways Terminal 5 staff handing out baggage reclaim forms to snatching dismissive hands, the bad Costa coffee. After dragging my sorry behind home at 3am sans suitcase, I was a bit pissed off.

I returned home 10kg lighter to find that to add insult to injury, some genius criminal mastermind had stolen the majority of my money and was living it up in Singapore. I imagined him/her gleefully withdrawing hundreds of pounds at a whim, presumably to sit in fancy hotels and drink Singapore Slings, glasses clinking in the hazy afternoon sunlight, the muffled sound of the busy city below punctuated with endless toasts: ‘to fraud!’, ‘to illegal cash withdrawal!’, ‘to the poor girl in her overdraft at the age of 29!’ . Or at least that’s how I imagine it.

A few days later after navigating a mind-boggling British Airways baggage reclaim system and eventually resorting to Tweeting them directly because it was easier (what have we become?), my sorry suitcase made it’s triumphant return, the slight squeak of the wheel mirroring my residual emotional trauma.

After my money was returned, my credit cards reinstated, clothes unpacked and Buddhist abandonment of all possessions ceased. I made the decision to stop flying about for a bit and stay at home more.

The decision has been a rather fruitful one. I’ve begun to read more. I have time to make espresso and listen to the Archers on a Sunday (poor Lilian). I know vaguely what’s happening in Syria. I’ve swapped permanent shoulder damage from heavy bag straps to resting and reading in the bath. I've swapped consumption of dubious WHsmith sandwiches at a dingy train stations to crusty homemade bread topped with in-season crab and a dollop of glistening homemade mayonnaise.

So this weekend I will be sitting still and making Welsh Rarebit. The food of my people. Such a dish combines some of my favourite things: Wales, cheese and a lovely ale.

Recipe and obligatory insta-grainy photo to follow.
Bon weekend

Thursday, 5 September 2013

HYKAEI: The One with the Comeback

Just when you thought the Instagram hyperbole was over
It is with great joy and shame that I return to the world of blogging. I have dragged my poor, unfortunate wordless soul back to a land of verbs and hyperbole and thoughts and food. Thus clearing the empty space I have left by my notable absence. Day after day of not writing the words of my life guru TES pounded in my head: 'It's not a blog if you write in it once a year'.

Correct TES. Correct.

Drama aside, I've been a bit busy with a house move and a new job (yay) and haven't had the time to write long posts about my recent American, Swedish and Scottish adventures. The longer the duration that I didn't write, the more difficult it became. Hampered by the fact that my internal cookery chip suddenly activated, I went on overdrive, rustling up seasonal bounties of fruits and vegetables in abundance.

I feel very guilty not to share that with you.

But not to despair, inspired by a technique from genius quickfire blogger CJS I have decided to write as I eat. Little and often.

So hello again world. It's lovely to be back. I will write shortly to tell you what I'm going to do with the last of the season's nectarines.

I bet you're on the bloody edge of your seat.

Much love HYKAEI x 

Sunday, 24 March 2013

The Art of (Coffee) Happiness at The Bean

The art of frothy happiness
I've been spending a lot more time in Nottingham recently, mainly due to cleaning out my bank account on spontaneous trips to America, having lots of work on and freak weather conditions making me not want to leave the house.

My weekends have settled into a happy routine, Friday night laundry, Saturday morning brunch at home with the paper, Saturday night dinner with friends usually huddled around a heater with a glass of red wine, and Sunday at The Bean.

Since my return to the UK, a good cup of coffee, much like a good man, is hard to find. Just when I was on the brink of giving up the thought of ever experiencing frothy milked joy in this country, The Bean came upon it's glorious milky horse to come rescue me. Ok this is a little over the top, I've had two coffees from there today.

The location of this aforementioned wondrous place is nondescript, in fact, you wouldn't even give it much thought. Curiously tucked in a side street next to Sainsbury's, it's view and location isn't what you would call beautiful. However, on closer inspection, the place is perfect.

The formula is simple, expertly made coffees with great milk art (I'm a sucker for a milky leaf or heart), simple and cheesy toasted sandwiches and a happy, friendly atmosphere. I almost always sit downstairs amid the Sunday papers, but upstairs has a tranquil atmosphere where you could type away on your laptop for hours on end without being disturbed. If it's there I always go for the tuna melt washed down with a large cappuccino. And I nearly always end up staying for far longer than I anticipated.

I've taken many a coffee connoisseur there to obtain their opinion. International coffee lover DP commented that it had a mild, drinkable quality (the taste of the beans not overpowering). New Zealand arrival SI noted that there may well be some kind of illicit drug laced within the milk that makes it so moorish. You can't usually stop at one.

So, to an unexpected lovely place. The site of coffees with old and new friends and sometimes many solo hours of contemplation about life, love and what to have for dinner.

Thank you Bean for making my winter that little bit better

The Bean
1 Stoney Street, Beeston
http://www.coffee-beans.co.uk/