We reached Oxford

We were back on the train today for the ride to Oxford. We are officially in the home stretch since this is where B's journey (for now) ends.

The only previous Oxford reference I (still) had was that Alex P. Keaton spent a summer studying at Oxford back in 1985. I'll bet the conversion rate for the dollar was better then. *sigh* We headed to my B&B and it turns out my instincts were correct. It and Mrs. Williams are the cutest ever. (I forgot to mention, when I called to confirm a couple days ago, we got into a conversation about Bath, etc. etc. and she ended the call with, "I'll let you go, dear. We can catch up tomorrow." Like we were old friends. Love her.)

We dropped off my suitcase and walked into the middle of town (only about 10 minutes away) to B's home for the next 7 weeks, Lincoln College. (Prior to this experience, I had no idea that Oxford University is actually a series of about 40 colleges as opposed to one university.) Once B was checked into her summer program, we were finally able to leave behind her three suitcases that we'd been dragging all over the UK.

So, yeah, Lincoln College. I'm hugely jealous. You've never see such beautiful, perfectly manicured lawns in your life. (Unfortunately for me, that means you're not allowed to rest on them.) Secondly, sure, it's a dorm. But it's a dorm with a room with a bay window that looks out over said lawns. And lastly, the library I was able to see if absolutely amazing.

We had lunch at the King's Arms pub. I couldn't resist taking a photo of the "ode to smoking" collage on the wall. (The smoking ban had been in effect for one year and was all over the papers while we were in Bath.) The bartender at King's Arms was sweet and overly polite in a stereotypical English manner. When we asked where we could find the restrooms, he directed us, but then said, "I'm afraid the seats aren't that comfortable." I don't know 1) how he knows this or 2) why he thinks we are used to particularly comfortable toilets, but B and I both had a laugh about it.

Next we sought out the Eagle & Child pub, which was a pre-trip destination request by D. It ended up being one of the most fun afternoons of the trip. B and I were there for a few hours, drinking strawberry cider and Jameson, respectively, with out activities being more varied than our drinks.

First, we played Jenga (aka "tension tower"), but both of us forgot to place the removed blocks back on top of the tower, so the first game was slightly unremarkable. Once we figured that out, it more closely resembled the game we know. Then we played gin rummy, but it seemed to be going to quickly so we decided that we had not dealt enough cards for each hand. (It was all trial and error, really.) Finally, we spent time eavesdropping (well, they were really loud) on the hilarious conversation between a couple drunk folks at the table next to us. I think they may have started talking about vegetarianism, but I cannot recall. Regardless, it devolved into the guy asking the girl how she felt about animal euthanasia, and then later (as B paraphrased into my journal) asking, "What about a really old, fat pig who wants to die?" I don't know either. But it was funny.

I learned early on, by the way, that a "Jameson neat" does not translate. In order to get to my usual end goal, I had to order a Jameson. When they said, "do you want ice?" I'd say, "no." And then finally, when they said, "do you want a double?" I'd say "yes." There you go.

After leaving there, we spent a lot of time walking and exploring and browsing. And late that evening, on our quest for another pub, we landed right back in the neighborhood, across the street from the Eagle & Child, at The Lamb & Flag.

The streets of Bath

Another busy day, we were off for the city center early, with more walking on the agenda for the day. First up, the Roman Baths. The audio tour had a few tracks from which to choose. There was the general, informative narrator to whom I listened to quite faithfully in the beginning. But once I discovered the tracks by this guy, he took precedence. I liked his snark. Regardless of the audio track you choose, the baths really are not to be missed.

We had a large, filling lunch at The Crystal Palace Tavern, including top roast, potatoes, snap peas, and yorkshire pudding. I am only mentioning this meal because 1) it was delicious and 2) I think the name of the place sounds very Vegas.

There were tons of adorable shops and I finally started to pick up souvenirs for folks back home. One of the sweets shops was playing what I'm convinced was a "Soundtrack Hits of the 80s" CD, since we heard "Eye of the Tiger" and "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" back to back as we browsed. One of the girls working in the shop asked the other what movie the latter was from. When she didn't know, we let her know it was Mannequin. You know. Anything we can do to spread the word about forgotten Andrew McCarthy movies to other countries.

On our walking excursions, we visited the place Beth used to call home, The Royal Crescent, and the Circus, where I again demonstrated my need to lie in the grass. We also saw Pigs in Bath everywhere. They aren't as cool as Pigs in Space, but are much more prevalent.

Later in the day, we hit another Bath institution, the Sally Lunn house. We were there for (of course) afternoon tea and a Sally Lunn bun. (We opted for the one with cinnamon butter and clotted cream on the side.) Seriously? Enough cannot be said about the Sally Lunn bun. It's absolutely tremendous.

We rolled out of seats at Sally Lunn's in time to get to the Bath Abbey about 20 minutes before the close of visiting time. I felt much the same in there as I'd felt in Westminster Abbey all those years before. The breath left my body - I was transfixed as I walked through the place, running my hands over the words on the epitaphs on the walls. I don't know if it was the atmosphere or thinking about my grandparents or what, but my eyes kept welling up with tears.

Our night closed with another walk, this time the Bizarre Bath Comedy Walk. And bizarre it was indeed. For a little over 90 minutes, we followed a tall, bald, older man who was clad in a purple jacket with tails, all over Bath. The tour was not historical, but rather full of silly observations, some of which were really funny. He was also a magician/illusionist, which made for some interesting tricks throughout the walk. And at some moments, he was, in the words of David Sedaris, "wrong and bad together." £8 well spent.

Onward to the Bath portion of our program

We checked out of the Wigmore Court (don't worry - I'll be back in a few) this a.m. to make our way to Bath. We did get a few photos of the street names in the blocks leading to the Wigmore, just to show how little I am really able to get away from my roots.

(Granville = town where we went to college. Berkeley = where I lived first 3 years in CA.)

I told Beth that if I found any street sign in close proximity that said New Albany, I was going to have to bail.

We loaded our luggage into a cab for the short ride to Paddington Station, and soon, the countryside was passing by our train windows. Lunch, by the way, was a much hyped ham and cheddar baguette from Upper Crust. B had been waiting years to have another one, apparently.

(Side note: B's travel agent took care of most of her arrangements, and accordingly, some of mine while I was with her. We were booked into an Express by Holiday Inn while in Bath. Staying at a chain hotel in a quaint little town? I found that to be kind of funny. And kind of sad.)

Regardless, I was taken by Bath the minute we got off the train. I felt instantly relaxed. The cabbie asked us if we were going to the Glastonbury Festival (which was the same weekend we were in town, and only 30 minutes or so away.) When we said 'no,' he said, "Good" and went into a short diatribe about people being dirty and on drugs. I was trying to contain my laughter and made a joke to B about the "crusty jugglers." Before I could explain the joke, the cabbie said, "Exactly. Them." I cracked up. He had no idea I was just referencing Hot Fuzz.

Check-in. Dump bags. Go for walk. It was time to explore all the places B had been when she'd lived there for a few months our senior year of college. We set out to wherever. Just before we reached the park of choice, I spotted a store and I decided to go in to see if I could get my watch fixed there. (I'd broken the band that a.m.) Instead, I came out with this watch. I love it very much.

We made our way across the street to Royal Victoria Park, with, seriously, some of the coolest swings/rides I've ever seen for kids. B was telling stories and trying to sleuth her way to locations of times passed. At one point, my need to lie in the grass took hold (yes, this is a need I have a lot, at home and abroad) and I set up camp for a bit. B was sharing more stories, we were watching people feed ducks, and I was taking in the Bath of it all. For your viewing pleasure, here's the spot where I was sitting. (It's marked by my backpack.)

We walked and explored more and made our way back down, next to Argos, to the Hop Pole. Good ales. Good times. B was reading a paper with some list of Top 50 songs (can't remember what the list was exactly - something to do with dancing) and I think she was appalled/impressed that I had so many of them on my iPod. I think the presence of "Buffalo Stance" threw her for the biggest loop.

The barmaids were fun - got to chat with a couple of them as we were lounging. One topic of discussion was how many people came in with their babies/kids (something we'd noticed pretty immediately.) I guess that's what you get when you are a pub across from a family park. This, of course, led B and I to quote Sweet Home Alabama. "You have a baby ... in a bar."

We decided to see a movie that night. For all that, you can read here. Oh, one more thing: in the middle of Bath, next to the theatre, there is a TGI Fridays. On behalf of America, Bath, I apologize.

Fountain - this way (maybe)

I awoke early, at about 6:55a, with no alarm assistance. Clearly, I am not myself in the UK.

A few other things of note:

1. My love of The Underground has not dissipated since we've been apart.
   
2. As I told B, I knew I was acclimated the minute I felt comfortable jaywalking. (They write which way you should look to cross in large letters on the street. I don't know if they have any stats on this, but I'm assuming that there are less flattened Americans since they started doing that.)
3. I took a small travel dryer with me on the trip, hooked it up to the adapter without a converter, and blew it up on purpose, just to see what would happen. Fortunately, no one was hurt. Except for my blow dryer. (No, I don't know what's wrong with me.)
   

Continuing the theme of the evening prior, today was all about walking, walking, and more walking. My right knee is old and she hates me. But I'm obstinate (read: stupid) so I refused to bring along my knee brace for the day.

We set out to fulfill a wish of B's grandmother. Before she passed away, her grandma had requested that, should B return to London, that she leave flowers for Princess Diana. So, our first destination of the day - Kensington Palace. After a few errands here and there, we were on our way to the palace. We did get our first bit of rain when we got to the grounds, and even with my raincoat on, I still couldn't resist throwing off the hood and letting my face get soaked. What can I say? I love me some rain.

The palace tour had three different components. The first part was an exhibit called "The Last Debutantes." I'm not particularly into all that "society" stuff (I have issues with matters of socioeconomic status - thanks Denison!) but I did really how they put the exhibit together. It was well personalized and interactive. I actually didn't realize they didn't have debs anymore. Everything I know about debs (previously) I learned from What a Girl Wants.

The second part was a brief exhibit of many of Diana's dresses. Admittedly, I don't really care about gowns and such, but I was amused to discover, after reading the description cards, just how many 80s movie premieres she attended.

The final part was a general tour of the palace (not the living quarters - the old school palace part.) And before you begin to zone out, it was gorgeous and ornate and interesting. And a little spooky.

After touring the palace, we were intent on finding The Princess Diana Memorial Fountain, and thankfully, the rain had ceased. Maps and signs would have had believe that it was just a short walk from the palace. Maps and signs would have been wrong. We walked. And walked. And walked some more. And then we FINALLY came upon the fountain (it's in a corner of Hyde Park) so B could leave the flowers on behalf of her grandma.

We were famished at that point, since it was nearly 4pm and we still hadn't eaten lunch. Armed with a "best pubs" guide, we (you guessed it) walked quite a bit more until we reached the Hoop & Toy pub. My knee was dying for some rest at that point. B was the recipient of the world's biggest fish this time. (I opted for the shepherd's pie.) And based on some kind of fluke, our drinks were free. And I wasn't going to protest, 'cause the exchange rate was kicking my ass.

The last bit of the day was to get gussied up for our trip to see Spamalot on the West End. All my reporting about that is here.

Of course I didn't sleep.

No matter how I tried, sleep was not on the agenda for my flight. Perhaps that was aided by all the A/V goodness at my fingertips, but no matter. It is what it is.

I should have been nearly ready to pass out by the time we landed, but instead, I was nearly skipping to Customs. I was so excited at the thought of seeing B (and seeing her in England, no less) that sleep was the furthest thing from my mind.

With neither of us having a way to reach the other, we relied on our previous research of the meeting points at Heathrow. Thankfully, we were arriving in the same terminal and the areas were easy to find, because within 5 minutes of getting my bag, I spotted her. (Our shuttle was not as easy to find, especially since three people gave us three different sets of directions to find it (ALL wrong) but no matter. We were in the UK. At the same time. In the same place.

The ride to the Wigmore Court Hotel, our first home away from home, was fairly uneventful. I was just trying to take it all in as we drove. After a bit, we checked in, grateful to give up the luggage for a while. We made a walk to find some food (seeking a pub, of course) and settled a few blocks away at The Three Tuns.

My lack of sleep was starting to catch up with me, so I did order a Coke to go with my fish & chips (biggest effing fish I'd ever seen, by the way) but I'm happy to report that it was my first and last pop/soda/caffeinated beverage of the trip. Nostaglia was running high with B, who insisted on ordering her dessert of treacle pudding. And speaking of nostaglia, there were fliers all over the pub promoting that evening, which was 80's night, complete with a Pac Man playoff. I was more than a little tempted to return that evening to impress all with my Pac Man skillz. But alas, we had other plans.

But first, I had to have a nap. I was otherworldly tired, no matter how I tired to push through.

Awake and (mostly) functional, we had decided on a London Walk for that night, more specifically this one. It was a fun, and VERY long (almost 2 1/2 hours and I can't even approximate the distance) tour, led by a fun Scotsman named Adam. At one moment, he was talking about how Samuel Pepys was always writing away in his diary, and at the same moment I was standing there, writing away in my journal to record a quote he'd said just a minute before. (The quote being "I think we're singing from the same hymn book here.") I just kind of looked up, sheepishly. Hopefully, I'll never have anything on the scale of the plague or Great Fire of London about which to take notes.

Updates from the UK

I'm on a plane for the rest of the day today and when I land in the UK, it will be tomorrow.

Hopefully, once I've got my wits about me, and my notes by my side, I will provide updates from the journey.

Ten years!!!

I’d hoped to have that ever so excellent clip from Grosse Pointe Blank up here today. You know, that one where Piven Train (TM) starts screaming “Ten years!!!” at Martin Blank as they sit together in the car after having not seen him for, well, ten years. But alas, that clip was not available on the web.

That clip pretty much sums up how it feels to hit that anniversary. Ten years ago today, I drove into the Bay Area in my packed up Mercury Tracer after my drive across the country. I vowed I was going to stay for one year, good or bad.

And so it goes.

Woman sues Victoria's Secret claiming thong injury

The story doesn't go where I thought it would. But the title of the article was good enough, I guess.

I'm downright misty. Again.

I remember when they got married 4 years ago, and I'm glad they let Phyllis & Del get the first shot this time out, too.

"This gentleman just told me there are two elderly ladies who are getting married today after being together for 50 years," she said. "They're obviously committed! I think it's terrific. They're an example for heterosexuals, I think."

Amen.

Watch out for the screws.

I found out tonight that I don't know how to change the tire on my new car. I rocked that drill on my old car with aplomb, but my new one just made me feel foolish.

The timing, too, was pretty shite. Nothing stops you from running errands quite like a spare tire.

But on the bright side, I'm more than grateful for the great help I had this evening, even if we were a comedy of errors at times. And I don't think I'll have to get a new tire, since it looks like it can be patched, once the offending screw is gone.

One (or two) to grow on.

1. If your friends are the types to buy you free drinks, like mine apparently are, make sure that no matter how busy your day is, you take a minute to eat something before heading out with them.
   
2. If, for whatever reason, you can't take a minute during the day to eat something, make sure there is a friend on standby, as you accept the aforementioned free drinks, to remove you from the festivities (and take you to food) before you can say anything that you might regret.
   

Thank goodness for contingencies.

Congrats to Mel and Mike!

Ya both done good.

I'm now three for three with coupled roommates getting engaged/married. (Anyone else looking for assistance, I apologize, but I'm retired from the roommate business.)

Eh, what the hell. Here's something political.

Take the Bush/McCain Challenge
(and not just because John Cusack is challenging you to do so)

I spoke to Mrs. Williams early this morning.

At least, I think it was Mrs. Williams. Regardless, she was very sweet.

Where are you calling from, dear?
What time is it there, dear?

I love her already. I'm glad I will be staying at her Guest House.

Under Neat

(My mom's got the good forwards this week. She also sent the accent quiz.)

I can't vouch for the legitimacy of the story. But damn ... this is funny. And sad. But mostly funny. I really didn't see where it was going until I read the commentary under the picture.

----------------------------------------

It took me a second, but make sure you read the story under the picture.
Keep in mind, this actually really happened. This cake was for someone moving from an insurance claims office.OK, so this is how I imagine the conversation went:

Walmart employee: Hello. This is Walmart. How can I help you?

Customer: I would like to order a cake for a going away party this week.

Walmart employee: What do you want on the cake?

Customer: 'Best wishes, Suzanne" and underneath that, "We will miss you."

My kitchen looks really good

If I do say so myself.

I painted the entirety of it yesterday, and I don't even ache like I thought I would from improperly using the roller extension on the ceiling. (I don't think you're supposed to bend backwards and paint that way - just a tip.)

I selected post-it yellow (its actual name is Canary Song or something like that.) It's brightened things up significantly from the putrid faded peach something or another that has been coating the walls as long as I've known them.

Oh, and the people who mix paint at OSH? They REALLY like mixing paint.

Maybe someone took his stapler.

This video made its way around the office earlier in the week.

We had many questions after watching it. For example:

• Why aren't more people trying to help out?
• Did someone eventually kick the ass of the guy who spent the whole time filming it on his cell phone?
• Wouldn't it be awesome if there was sound on the video?
• Which person in our office is most likely to do this?

But mainly, what the hell set him off? Does anyone know where this took place? (We were all interested, but not enough to actually do any research to find out.)

(Update: 06.11 - It's fakety fake fake. See comments. Booooo.)

What American accent do you have?

Take this test to find out.

I'm disappointed that the "creek" vs. "crick" question was not included.
Oh, and the "wash" vs. "warsh" delineation.

Pimpin' for the Red Cross

I'm going to get philanthropic up in here again. Please be patient.

Another of my causes (if you will) is blood donation. I've been a semi-regular donor since I was in my early 20s. I've been a regular donor for about the last 3 years or so; I stepped it up when I realized how many people have been deemed ineligible to donate.

Some of the limitations I can easily understand (intravenous drug users and patrons of prostitutes need not apply.) Some I don't (no gay men are allowed to donate.) Some are newer limitations (mostly relating to those who travel a lot.) Bottom line: there are a lot of things that can rule people out and make the donor pool smaller.

So, if you are eligible to give, I highly recommend it. They could use the help.

There's something fun about ...

... watching the faces of a small group of friends as they come to realize that they all know about a secret you've been keeping.

It's also a little frightening, but my trepidation is diminished knowing that, at least, they kept the secret.

Here's a tip ...

If you are drinking in a manner that suggests you are trying to get away from someone or something, you should probably not drink with any of the people from which you are trying to get away.

And that's one to grow on.