Once again connected to the big wire in the sky so here are the back editions of Chez Bordinio since D!


London:

Shopping in London can be a hazardous experience. Wonderful in its way but extremely hazardous to one’s financial well-being. The plan is for this trip to having minimal day-to-day expenses, me having more or less shot my wad on plane fare and the fees for Oxford. But...but I get ahead of myself.

My first realization that this trip would not be flawless came as the BART train approached the airport. Mentally running through the ways to combine the clothing that I had packed, I realized that what I had not packed was socks. Any socks. Bother. However, I was sure that with a Visa card in hand I should be able to find adequate hosiery upon arrival. Certainly no going back for them at this point -- I hadn’t left myself that much cushion.

My second bloomer, it seems, was packing too much of everything else! At check-in, it turned out that my bag was twelve and a half pounds over weight! So its off to a quite corner to stuff as much into my carry-on bag as possible. Shoes, computer cables, shampoo, paperwork -- everything relatively dense that wouldn’t wrinkle. It took two trips back to the scale but I was eventually permitted to check my suitcase. Now, had there been a luggage shop to hand I would have simply bought a small suitcase and checked two bags but the International Terminal is set up with all those stores on the concourses -- which one can only get to with a boarding pass which one only gets after checking bags! Ach, well, something to remember for the return flight when I may have additional weight in the form of books and gifts (let me underscore the may in that sentence, all of you who have already got their hopes up).

So after the flight(with the usual allotment of loud-voiced neighbors and unhappy infants), an unusually smooth run into London, and a stop at the hotel, it’s off to Oxford Street by way of Piccadilly and Budd Shirtmakers (where I went looking for ties but also found socks to go with my suits). After a flip of a coin to determine which direction from Oxford Circle station would take me to John Lewis (a Macy’s equivalent -- and the coin was right, by the way), I found socks for casual wear. And more ties. And a couple linen shirts. And a linen suit. And only a debit card with me, so I stopped there.


Lincoln:

After a full week of work (full in this case meaning until 11:00 PM Friday night!) I have escaped from work. Escaped to Lincoln, where I arrived with a backpack and a couple of days to kill to find the town packed for the annual Waterfront Festival. However, early enough arrival got me a room and one in the Victorian-era bishop’s palace! It’s a guesthouse these days -- I’ve not been making myself friends in high places. The ruins of the medieval bishop’s palace are straight out the window and the cathedral itself just off to the left. I’ve a particularly good view of “The Bishop’s Eye”, a grand window in the south transept with unusual tracery in the shape of two leaves, and am close enough that I can hear the organ.

Why do the English have this thing about shooting off fireworks around the Fourth of July? On the train to Lincoln -- at 10:30 in the morning! -- there was a small display visible from the Grantham station. The day was overcast but not that overcast! And at Lincoln they’ve just finished up a regular Battle of the Somme display where I felt quite in the crossfire with the echoes coming back off of the cathedral.

Evensong Saturday and Sunday mass both were sung by a choir of boys and men -- 12-18 boys (soprano, of course) and eight men (everything else). Both services were in the cathedral choir so I got to sit in the old monk’s stalls with the elaborate carved hoods (and presumably misercordes under the seats but the services weren’t so long that we needed to get them out).

I’ve been surprised by plants in Lincoln that I think of as warm-weather varieties. Rosemary, lavender (including a pink variety!), poppies, and figs (with nearly-ripe fruit). It is enough tempt me into attempting a mediterranean herb garden in cold cloudy San Francisco.


Oxford

Chatting at the guest house turned a leisurely departure into a mad dash down Steep Hill to the train station. Caught the desired train with three minutes to spare (loads of time!).

Safely arrived (despite delays in the Tube), checked in and unpacked. Left the hallowed grounds of the college in search of a dry cleaner and laundry detergent and came back shell shocked. Took a nice cuppa tea and a quite spell in the garden to settle me nerves. The crowds here are worse than Piccadilly! Worse than Oxford Street! I’ll take London any day over Oxford with tourists in full spate.


Oxford the next day

First day of classes. First day of access to libraries. First day of homework.

A 1,500 word paper is a requirement for the course. In discussion with the tutor this afternoon about a topic, some sixteen (16!) books (well, fifteen books and one periodical) were listed as references to check for the subject. Bookworm though I may be, this is going to be a challenge.

Was issued a reader’s card for the Bodleian Library today. Immediately went over to Radcliffe Camera to trial the system. By benefit of prior experience with San Francisco Library computer system it only took twenty minutes or so to identify one book (one!) and request it be pulled from the stacks. To be ready for me after 11:00 AM tomorrow. Different sections of the university run at different speeds it seems.