Year: 2009

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.

Five years in this town has not rendered me sufficiently jaded to ignore the fireworks – weeks and weeks of massive celebrations every night? Ho hum.

But today was the Town & Country Show. Steam engines, sheep dogs, and jousting, with the Bronski Beat as soundtrack – oh my! I am genuinely thrilled.

The rummage for old legal papers reveals that I apparently still own a Commodore 64, boxed, with the original manual.

I am distracting myself from the difficulties of the immigration situation by reading biographies about logicians, and Alfred Tarski is officially my new secret boyfriend.

And! Tonight I have front row seats in the theatre founded by Keynes to watch Leonard from Butterflies star in a Christie play. I am psyched!

The geek factor this week is very high.

Benefits of being OCD #123: when the immigration attorney writes at 4 am demanding decades old documents, I know exactly where they are!