Fight The Future
In Which I Am Alone
Unusually sunny light streamed through the cracks in my drab curtains, waking me up at the early hour of 10.30. Turning over, I looked at the other bed. There was the duvet, crumpled on the bed. And there was Stacy's double-wide sheet tucked into the twin bed. But no Stacy. She had arisen at 8 a.m. and snuck out for her return to the Study Abroad Office in Champaign.
Leaving me alone.
It's now 2 p.m. and I've: read a trashy book Brenna lent me; watched trashy daytime chat shows; surfed the web on the off chance anyone updated their online journals since last night; written down things I must do; and become increasingly nervous.
I have until Monday. That's it.
And so of course I'm whiling away the time and being highly unproductive. It's the same thing that happened right before I left to come here six months ago, a lifetime ago: short bursts of energy followed by long periods of apathy. Manic vs. depressive. There are all kinds of things I should be doing and buying, but I have three more days, right? Right.
In Which Magic Shoes Are Wished For
I've done pretty well the past six months--haven't been homesick too often, known that here is better than there. But this morning, lying on the couch watching crap TV, I thought how much nicer it would be to do that back home. Watching crap TV while lying on the couch. Except at home I would have a nice blanket and hundreds of channels of crap versus just five.
I'm scared, nervous, and mentally unprepared to go abroad. While I know two weeks in Switzerland will be fantastic, leaving the comforts of South Kensington is a daunting thought. So is the fact that yet again my life has no definite plan.
It would be so much easier to just buy a ticket and go home. But while I'm over here I might as well take up the offer of a free place to stay in Zurich. Not many people have that!
In Which Blessings Are Counted
Neither do most people have:
In Which I Make You Jealous
I was highly complimented last night when Natalia told me that out of all of the students she has seen do the BUNAC programme, I have had the most success with it. Not only with my job, but also my social life. Let's see: tomorrow night I'm going out with my flatmates; Saturday night I'm going to a fancy-dress party with my co-worker Tim where you dress as your favourite Tube station; and Sunday I'm going out for drinks with James (who is skiing in Austria this week). I must admit that I have done some fairly cool things, and telling Natalia about my weekend in Bristol might have been part of the reason she complimented me.
My friend Callum is finishing his aeronautical engineering degree at Bristol University before starting at Sandhurst next autumn. Because he's in the Army and knows lots of other students in the Officers' Training Corps (the British version of ROTC), he was invited to the annual Naval Ball. And I was his guest.
In Which A Naval Ball Is Attended
I had a fantastic black dress with silver beading, and walked into the living room Saturday evening to see around 10 tall, gorgeous men wearing suits with bowties they all knew how to tie themselves. Stunning! Especially because when Callum referred to his wearing a "dinner jacket" (or "DJ" for short) I thought that meant a sportcoat. No indeed--it's akin to a tuxedo, with a stripe down the trousers and tuxedo shirts, cummerbunds, and matching handkerchiefs. The complete package.
The ball was held in a stately home outside of Bristol, replete with huge, high-ceiling octagonal rooms, wide staircases, and of course mimosas (called "bucks fizz" here), a bar, and a live band. We got our portraits taken, which you can view by going here and entering "DOPA" under "Client Name" on the "View Your Shoot" page. I'm in the first batch after the girl in the pink dress (Callum's flatmate Honey). All of Callum's flatmates were fantastic fun (all are somehow in the armed forces, be it Army, Navy or Air Force), and his flatmate Rich regaled us with a tale of meeting Prince Philip at the annual Kensington Palace ball last spring. If I'm here in May I'm invited....oh, that I'm here in May!
Sunday morning I woke on a mattress on the floor, hungover and tired. Not only did we not get home till 2.30ish, but Callum and I watched the hilarious National Lampoon film Van Wilder. Well, I watched it and Callum fell asleep. We immediately went out for a greasy fry-up, the classic English hangover cure being bacon, eggs, toast, mushrooms, tomatoes, tea, toast, and baked beans. Mmmmmmm....
Fortified, Callum's flatmates Rick/Rich and Emma joined us on the Downs. I had no idea Bristol is: a.) so hilly, b.) so rich, c.) so full of nature. A five-minute drive from the city centre yields high grassy plains over which look huge mansions, gazing out onto the fit populace of Bristol, all of whom either seem to be avid runners or kite-flyers. We were among the latter, and spent a cold and blustery time of it manipulating Rick's rainbow kite. Then we walked across the famous Clifton suspension bridge over the Severn Gorge, built by Ismabard Kingdom Brunel. It's hilarous how they even have a drinking song that involves him which they sang on the busride home. Something to do with a giant erection... Anyway, it (the bridge) is quite stunning. It was interesting learning how people who try to commit suicide from it often don't time it right and jump at low tide, ending up stuck in the mud for hours with broken legs before they're rescued. Or the tide comes in and they drown.
In Which Theresa Becomes Jealous
Bristol is second only to Oxford and Cambridge, and is where many students from the rich areas of Southern England go to school. One of the patrons in the 1930s built this dormitory for his son who didn't make it into Oxbridge. Yes, Wills Hall is a replica of an Oxbridge college, complete with a huge medieval door with a smaller opening cut in it to enter, a chapel, and a Harry Potter-esque dining hall where formal dinners are held every Friday night for the students.
Callum brought his dj to Champaign, figuring he would need it. No, I can't imagine people wearing it to ISR, where I lived for two years. What a contrast.
In Which I Flew In A Sunset
It's a little-known fact that the British Army has aeroplanes, but they do, and that is why Callum is in the Army. And so that he can go play war games in Canada over the summer. Anyway, he is an accomplished pilot and spent last summer flying crop dusters and skydiving planes all over Australia. After Nick took me flying a few weeks ago, I have overcome my fear of small planes and begged to be taken up for a spin.
Callum, Emma, Rick (an RAF pilot, although without an official licence) and I bundled into another Piper aeroplane and Callum flew us around for about 45 minutes. He fooled around a bit, at one point banking so sharply that he joked we would fall out (which I didn't appreciate). He also asked if I wanted to steer, but even taking his hands off the controller wouldn't make me grab mine. No way. Maybe after a few more flights, or nearer to the ground than 5,000 feet. But being up that high afforded us the most magnificent view of all--seeing the setting sun over the tops of the low-lying clouds. And turning to the east, something I will remember forever: the sky a dim grey-blue below, a bright lavender pink above, and in between the most brilliant violet-blue band of colour I have ever seen. It was magical, simply breathtaking. As was descending over the city of Gloucester as its lights began to twinkle, swooping over the cathedral on our way to the airport. Wow. Am I lucky.
In Which A Conclusion Is Reached
So that was the weekend. I helped out the new temp and had one last interview on Wednesday morning. It's strange to think I won't ever be working at King's again. A bit saddening, but a bit enlivening nonetheless.
Now I need to buy a guidebook to Switzerland. Maybe one to Lichenstein, too...
I'm frightened of change.
Love,
Theresa
Labels: London
posted by Theresa @ 2/26/2004 07:52:00 AM
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