Month: June 2009

Away to Lammas Land, with a detour for a spot of cricket before a picnic in the Grantchester Meadows.

Later there was a dinner party hosted by Jean that lasted til dawn…. and I didn’t make anyone cry this time!

I can bend my finger for the first time in a week! This is the part where I am overly optimistic and end up even more injured.

The last few days have included hiding from tourists, exchange students wielding clipboards, punting touts, and sunlight. Not with marked success, but still.

Early morning sunshine, drinking coffee, watching the market wake, chatting with vendors: sometimes I love this city. The feeling will pass.

On the way home I spotted cygnets in the lock – guess they didn’t read the warning signs.

I do so adore Midsummer Fair. Why? Because it scares the bougie neighbors.

One awesome element of life here: DIY bone setting and dentistry kits. If only they offered takeaway phlebotomy!

A few things I cannot do with a broken finger: chop vegetables, apply sunblock to right arm, operate left hand brake on bicycle, type. Too bad that pretty much covers “life.”

I appear to have broken a finger. While doing… chores? This is only slightly less stupid than the Bunny Cage Lava Rock Incident.

While I adore my boat, there are a few elements of river life I could give up. For instance, I do not not enjoy debating environmental impact policies with drunk people before 10am.

Ever the optimist, I always make the mistake of assuming that forward motion solves all problems. In that regard, I would like to register a wish for a peniche on the Seine next xmas. Thanks in advance, Santa!

Tonight I went to an academical sort of party and someone said “aren’t you a nice looking girl” while staring fixedly at my chest.

I would have thumped him, but he was 83 years old, so I went and hid behind the buffet instead.

First coffee related injury! Caffeine + cobblestones = calamity.

I know too many secrets and I am feeling impatient instead of reticent.

But today is the first day I have woken up knowing that I am truly safe, and it is…. anti-climactic but awesome.

This morning I would have enjoyed working at the cafe much more if the Americans would just SHUT UP. People from my homeland are so …. loud.

Foreshadowing? You be the judge…. a courier just turned up (about two months earlier than expected) to present me with formal UK residency papers.

I’ve lived here so long, I just thought “huh – the town sure is rowdy today….”

What was that noise? Why Suicide Sunday, of course.

Though it truly is as shocking as it sounds, if you aren’t used to such things.

To locals this is just part of the academic year; when they aren’t naked and vomiting in parks, the students are swanning around in ballgowns and tuxedos. And of course, there is the accent; even when slurring, they are all, to my humble ear, posh wankers.

Quite the spectacle – and remember, I attended a college that routinely had people OD’ing in the laundry room. Cambridge is simply off the scale for debauchery.

My kids have a tutor who keeps insisting they are Oxbridge candidates – but I am appalled at the suggestion.

I know, I know, not a nice thing to say…. but hey, I never claimed to be nice.