false freedom and windy wales

It is Wednesday night. I was supposed to write on Sunday, night. I apologize, to myself and to my avid readers. I was doing so well there for a while, and then things just got a little crazy . . .

Last week was 8th week. What that means is that it was the last week of tutorials. I attended my final tutorial on Monday at 11:30.  Well, I actually didn't attend the tutorial until closer to noon because, to my dismay, as I walked my bike up the driveway toward the street, I noticed that my front tire was as flat as could be.  I ran back inside, sent an e-mail to Katy, the trust administrative assistant, asking her to tell my tutor I would be late, and started on the long walk.  Lovely Miss Beth Palmer never got the message, so my arrival was slightly awkward, but I wasn't in an easily perturbed mood, nearing the end of my final tutorial.  It went rather well, though I was so excited that I could hardly have interpreted it otherwise.

Every day there was a new set of elated scholars, having written their last tutorial paper and willing to momentarily forget the dreaded ‘long essay’ due, well it’s actually due tomorrow, but last week, tomorrow was oh so far away. For this reason, I watched a lot of movies last week, and generally did not so many productive things. My days will filled with relaxed study of Origen and Justin Martyr (both early church fathers), and my nights were filled with pub nights, movies and spending time with my fantastic house-mates. One night, a bunch of us even enjoyed an enthralling game of Balderdash at the Angel and Greyhound, which supplies and interesting supply of board-games. The game was, evidently, American and Matt even found a quarter in the box!

Friday night, too, we went to the pub, inspired by Nick's sad story of wrong buses and delayed flights that made it impossible for him to make it home for his grandfather's funeral. When we got back to the vines, I may have tried to study. I should have. I definitely studied Saturday morning - all day until about 3:15 when my rental car was leaving for Wales.

I know what you're thinking: "Why did she go to Wales when her long essay was due in a few days and she had been not-working all week?" Well, I suppose it was for the same reason that I often do fun things instead of much-needed-to-do school work. It's just how I do.

So, there were 7 of us, so we had rented 2 cars, for lack of an available mini-van. The Brits don't think much of large, non-environmental vehicles. Anyway, we piled in, much more comfortably than the last time - to Canterbury. The people on this trip were exactly the people from Canterbury, with one glorious addition: Ruth, our British friend! It was actually her family's cabin that we were driving to. The dive there wasn't too eventful. The other car (Scot, Nick and Ruth) thought it would be funny to pelt our car with pistachio shells occasionally, and Nick lost his hat when he stuck he head out of the window.

We stopped for dinner at a rest stop place. Nick and I enjoyed a meal of cheese, apples, bread and peanut butter - staples of the poor traveller. We shared with Ruth too, though she wasn't too fond of the peanut butter. I'm not sure what it is about Americans that makes us love peanut butter so much, but the Brits don't have it.

When we finally arrived, 5 or so hours later, to the town that held our beds, we stopped first at a giant Tesco. Now, Tesco is a grocery store, and we have them in Oxford, but the only one I've ever been in has been, well a lot smaller than this one. It felt suspiciously like I was entering a Wal-Mart. We shopped. We bought lots of food to sustain us for the next couple of days. Ruth was particularly bothered by a gigantic bag of 'crisps' (potato chips) that was purchased. My first inclination would be to say that Americans like crisps more than the British, but then I remember how many more flavors there are here (ham and apple, prawn(shrimp) cocktail and other similarly disturbing titles). I guess it's a subject for debate.

The cabin was adorable. Before we had left Oxford, Ruth's parents had gone to great lengths to explain to us how ridiculously cold it would be. Ruth explained later that they have the idea that all Americans are used to big, warm houses. Whether that's true or not aside, we have been living in the UK for months now, so when their emphatic warning reached our ears, we made a trip back to the Vines and filled the cars with all the bedding we could find. So, when we got to the cabin and found it to be quite comfortable, our fears were put to rest. I think that each of us had the picture of all 7 of us piled in one bed to survive - the conversation even turned to cannibalism, who we would eat if need be, and if we were willing to eat anyone at all. The latter question concerned me more. I just don't think I could do to.

We didn't need to eat anyone, luckily. We passed the night in general relaxation. Matt lit a clove on the toaster, we played a funny little board game much like catch phrase, had a pillow fight and talked about the Christian's duty to society - suburbs or slums? It was a nice night, blissfully void of any academic work. Margaret and Ruth went to bed, but I stayed up and watched to boy play hearts for reasons unclear to me. I guess I just have a really hard time going to bed when things are going on. I eventually did go to bed, and as soon as I closed the door of Margaret and I's bedroom, I realized that she could hear every word spoken in the living room. I immediately felt bad and wondered how she was sleeping at all. After lying in bed for a few minutes, I heard a weird sound coming from right outside the door - something sliding against the door frame. I assumed to boys were up to no good. I opened the door from my bed and saw that one of the big cozy chairs was on its side and up against our door, then heard them all dart in to a hiding place, as if I wouldn't know who it was. I closed the door and the noise persisted. I got up and opened the door, leaned over the chair and asked Nick, who would be sleeping on the couch, if he needed any more blankets because we had some. They were all giggling and he said no.

They told me not to tell Margaret, but as soon as we woke up and she made for the door, I warned her. At that point the pile had completely covered the doorway and Margaret was not happy. She whined a little, our only weapon, really, and they removed the blockade, quite pleased with themselves.

After we were released, we all decided that, before we made the giant breakfast we had purchased to prepare, we would trek to the beach - the weather was nice and we didn't know for how long it would last. I rolled up my jeans and put on some 'wellies'(galoshes/rain boots) borrowed from Ruth's sister - it was going to be muddy.

We walked and walked - through the woods, through a field, in which we met a friend friendly and beautiful group of highland horses who followed us for a bit, and finally onto the beach.

As soon as we neared the ocean, the wind was incredible. I may not spend much time talking about the wind, despite it's important role in this trip, mostly because there's nothing I can say to make you understand how ridiculously strong it was.

The beach was beautiful - the whole area was beautiful. We played in the water a bit. Actually, I think that maybe the water played with us. We ran into the ocean, being all spontaneous and adventuresome up to our ankles, and then it attacked, soaking us to our knees. I didn't expect such beauty from Great Britain, rain, accents, tea, all these things I expected, but not such beauty. We hung out on the beach for a while, made a stop at the little general store, where I bought an 11p pack of matches with a 20 pound note. The kid was a good sport.

We returned to the cabin by a different way than we had come - through the woods. That was fun because there was an abundance of much in which I could wade with my boots, and we came upon a little rope swing, also a good time.

When we got back to the cabin, Margaret and I commenced the making of the meal - many pancakes, many eggs and much bacon. It was an interesting experience with the two of us and then several other occasional visitors in the tiny little kitchen. Nick found a way to make coffee - straining it through a dish-cloth-type thing. It worked pretty well - I had some.

We finished cooking and ate. It was lovely. We didn't have maple syrup, which made me sad, but what we did have was something called 'Golden Syrup', which, we decided was mostly just sugar, probably a lot of corn syrup too, but it was much better than your typical fake syrup. It wasn't as good as the real stuff, but a not-so-close second.

Being banished from clean-up as the cooks, Margaret and I found other occupations. I took a shower and tried, somewhat in vain, to undo the tangle-damage the wind had done to my hair. Then I tried to do some school work. I didn't get much done, but the fact that I brought it and tried means that I have grown in my academic dedication.

The weather cleared up again, so we decided to take another excursion to a different place. Ruth led the way. This walk was longer, and windier. Once again, the wind was out of control. The walk to beautiful, it was basically along the top of cliffs overlooking the Irish Sea. Pretty nuts, right? We know that we would most likely be making the journey back in the dark, but on we pressed. (If I haven't mentioned it before, it gets dark here around 4 in the winter.) When we reached our destination, it was a beach below a lovely inn. I went into the inn to use the bathroom and felt like I was interrupting a family get-together. I guess it's just one of those sorts of family-run, laid-back kind of places. I used the bathroom, re-adjusted my sock/welly situation without being asked a question or looked at funny, so I was grateful.

We descended onto the beach - it was bordered by giant black cliffs. We played for a bit, but, to try and avoid someone falling off the path on the way back, we made for home. This trip back stick out in my mind as the windiest. I know that there was one place that I couldn't walk forward and kept getting blown into the bank of grass on the side of the path. Nick, necessarily, came back for me. We linked arms and braved the wind together. It was crazy. We finally reached the cabin just as the final glow of the sun was fading at the horizon.

That second night, like the first, was filled with wonderful nothing-academic. We played a lot of spades. Ruth made us a lovely dinner, we played a lot of cards and listened to music. Nights of food, cards, music and conversation are the greatest, and this was no exception. Fortunately, when we woke up in the morning there were no chairs in front of our door. I made french toast and bacon, we ate and then cleaned up the place. It's funny how messy a place can get after only a couple of days. We packed and cleaned and loaded the cars.

When everything was finished and the door was locked, we wished our temporary home goodbye and drove away. We drove to the black-cliff beach we had been to the night before. The drive was much quicker and less dangerous, but also less fun. We took fun pictures and played on the beach.

We piled back into the cars, stopped at Tesco for some petrol and candy and then made for home. I like car rides, and even more here, because they're so rare, we napped and listened to music. We stopped once to eat, although only a few of us ate; the manly men who need a lot of food. Nick and I bought the giant candy-cane things in one of the little shops at the rest stop and ate them. I regretted the decision on the way home. It was sort of like the time I thought it would be a good idea to drink Fanta and eat chocolate for a meal after my trip to Barcelona. I felt sick and guilty for doing that to my body. Anyway, the last leg of our trip quickly commenced and less quickly ended. We entered Oxford. It was a nice feeling. The closer I get to leaving, the nicer the feeling is when I think about the great city.

As soon as we pulled up and emptied the car, I was determined to do some paper-writing, but it just didn't happen. In fact, I'm pretty sure I watched 4 episodes of Seinfeld that night, amidst lots of e-mailing and facebooking - that stuff seems to accumulate after a couple of days of hiatus.