Thursday, February 18, 2010

The Dugong

Azar and I spent most of the day in the library doing nothing related to our respective dissertations. Actually, I think she did a fair amount, but I kept watching videos of dugongs on YouTube. I caught sight of this sodden specimen in the grass to the side of the Biological Sciences building as we walked to her house via the Coop for dinner:

Being completely dark outside and downpouring to boot, it looked more like something out of Poltergeist than the world's greatest sight, so Azar and I deemed it necessary to pluck it from its resting place and artfully drape it over a nearby, well-lit rail:


Wednesday, February 17, 2010

The Art Historian

As if I hadn't had enough of a glove-filled few hours, I returned to campus for a meeting with my dissertation* supervisor and found what may be the most EPIC (and I don't use that word lightly) of glove locations: underneath some sort of classical cherub by the History of Art and Architecture department in HumSS. I heard a veritable stampede of footsteps approaching as I fumbled with my camera and managed to get two decent pictures just as a whole horde of prospective students led by a tour guide burst through the doors at the end of the corridor. I slunk sheepishly by them- honestly, if a few of them decide not to go to Reading solely out of fear of the creepy girl lurking and taking photographs of seemingly nothing, I wouldn't be surprised. 

At any rate (sorry about the first one, I had to do some funky stuff with the brightness and contrast to make the glove visible, although I turned the figure into some sort of glowing transcendental Buddha in the meantime):

*BLAH, which I'm supposed to be working on right now. I can't believe I'm updating the BGP in the library... procrastination in its highest form.

The Sea Lion

Yes, this is STILL the 17th of February. I accompanied Daniel to a post office in the middle of nowhere to pick up a package of Greek sweets from his mom. We got lost about eighteen times and had to ask numerous people for directions, including a man in the most tawdry convenience store I've ever had the pleasure of entering. Everything was covered in dust, especially Ziploc bags of single hairbands that were at least 15 years old and stapled to a piece of cardboard dangling from the ceiling.
Anyway, we finally figured out more or less where we were going (although we would still have to ask two more men before we reached our destination) and I spotted this salty sea-dog in the parking lot of a completely deserted industrial park. 

The Never-Ending Slew of Gloves on the Path by the SportsPark

Will they NEVER STOP!?!?  First, walking back from an anti-Valentine's Day party in the wee hours of the 12th, I spotted this lil' darling with Sophie (she does not actually look like this in real life. Apparently there is nothing more unromantic and anti-Valentine's than an emo):
Then, on the 17th, with the previous glove still moldering away by a fence, I spotted these two within about a minute of each other:

Seriously, IT IS A VORTEX.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

The Triumphant Mitten

After over a month of freaking out and dashing to and fro and gathering transcripts and rewriting CVs and coordinating references and trying to figure out some exciting beginning to a personal statement, I had finally submitted my application to do an MA in Material and Visual Culture at UCL. I mentioned the BGP in my personal statement (it's pretty much the epitome of material and visual culture, no?), so if any admissions officers are reading this: Hello, please accept me. 
I left the library in a state of giddy elation. Not two minutes later, I spied this mitten in the parking lot by Whiteknights House. I don't consider myself superstitious, but I hope this is some form of sign... although since it's a mitten, who knows what it could signify? Perhaps I won't get accepted at UCL, but some equally exciting opportunity will come along. After all, I always wear mittens, not gloves.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Hail's Angel

As I was walking down Whitley once again with Daniel, it freakishly started to hail. I'm pleased that I managed to catch this twisted sister with tiny hailstones intact on her fingers. 

The Picture of Modesty

The overriding law of this whole thing, I've found, is that as soon as you start thinking, "I haven't seen a glove in a while," -
BOOM, one's splayed right in front of you, practically blocking your path. This was on Christchurch Road as I was once again walking to Daniel's house.

Friday, February 12, 2010

The Death Row

I'd heard rumors of this thrilling trio, on a fence at the other end of my road, from Athamos, but didn't see it myself until I'd already walked by it once. As I'd recently discovered that a Norwegian waffle iron belonging to my last-year's-housemate (and ardent black glover) Azar had been left behind in my house, I wanted to put it to good use. Thus, Daniel and I dashed to Premier to get some eggs, Nutella, and ice cream, and lo and behold, on the way back these three finally revealed themselves! (Of course Daniel had to pick the black one up and fling it around for a while before I could retrieve it and photograph it.)
Oh, and then it turned out that because the waffle maker was Norwegian, we didn't have the correct plug converter. I tried to see if it would work in the bathroom shaver-plug, accompanied by shrieks of "Don't get electrocuted!" from various housemates, but it didn't. Also, it was covered with mysterious short black hairs. We ended up making pancakes instead. Triple fail. 

The One-Woman Show of Ursula Martinez

Becky and I were walking back from the library, I did my customary squeal-jump-point-and-shoot, and we continued on. This was lying near a ticket from the Barbican, dated the day before, for an event entitled "Ursula Martinez: My Stories, Your Emails." I couldn't really fit the ticket in the picture without compromising the glove's entirety or Becky's patience, but obviously I had to go home and Google who Ursula was and why she was at the Barbican. Perhaps the glove and its owner were in the audience. 

The Shell

My new phone was introduced to the wonders of glove documentation with this lovely though slightly angry-looking fellow, whom I found scowling on a ledge outside the Black Horse House on Whiteknights campus. Is it too much of a stretch to say that this one resembles one of the shells in the University of Reading's crest? Why the shells, anyway? And what kind of flower is that? 

Monday, February 01, 2010

The Contortionist

I asked my housemate Athamos where he spotted this intriguing, four-fingered friend and he mumbled through a mouthful of bread, "I think I just found it walking... murfphh. Campus... ugmgm, bridge." 

The Metamorphosis

Aaron also discovered this butterfly-emblazoned glove on a wall along Crescent Road.

The Foodie

Dedicated glovester Aaron espied this seal-like specimen creeping along the snack racks of a Sainsbury's in London.