I had a lovely day today.  Geoff and I took the train in to London for the day - the first time we'd been out of Cambridge since before Christmas - and had a good jaunt around Bloomsbury.  We started our day at the Wellcome Collection, which is my new favorite place of all time.  There are two main galleries, Medicine Man and Medicine something-else-I-can't-remember, that have on display bits of Henry Wellcome's collection and issues in modern-day medicine, respectively.  I became a member of the Collection back in December, as I fell in love with the place upon first introduction, and this allows me use of the library as well as a member's-only lounge.  Very cool (albeit nerdy) club.  Unfortunately, the galleries were closed (as they are on Mondays) but that did not stop us from enjoying a latte from the amazing coffee machine in the Member's Lounge. 

[An aside: this coffee machine can do everything from make a steamer, to cappuccino, to latte, to plain old filter coffee.  AND it cleans itself periodically!  Like I said, it's amazing.  I am so glad we don't have one within easy access, as I'd have coffees all the time, just to use it.]

After the Wellcome, we walked through Bloomsbury to get to a restaurant called Ping Pong.  It's a dim sum restaurant that we discovered back in December, and happily found it to be a chain with a Goodge Street location.  We were delighted to find the good quality food to extend to this chain as well.  Oh happy day and bellies!  We meandered to the British Library, next, to see a couple of exhibitions in their galleries: the first about the Avant Garde movement in Europe, and the second on the collections of Grace Higgens, housekeeper at Charleston House - the country farmhouse to which the Bloomsbury set (of the early 20th century) escaped the din of London.  Finally, we popped round to a friend's for tea and a good chat before we were on the train to return to Cambridge.  We lucked out, in that the good weather continued through today.  It was sunny, in the low 50's, and tomorrow looks like a misty rain will prevail the skies.

Just a really low-key day, just the thing I needed, and more than what I wished for.

In the spirit of Amelie and of the Avant Garde... I like: home-made bread with margerine, lemony cupcakes, tea with friends, nice food.  I don't like: pushy crowds, teabags left on chairs (at the train station).

Somewhere between New Year and now, I got caught in this strange timewarp where I did a lot of reading, failed to notice time passing, and now it's the end of January.  I must be enjoying it, because I barely remember the last few weeks!

There is a general feeling of malaise that has struck me lately.  I attribute it to the lack of sunshine and look forward to the longer days that have already begun to arrive.  Clive, one of the porters at Trinity whom we've gotten to know a little, assures me that it will get better as we approach the next month and I believe him, as I've started to feel a bit less lethargic as of late.  I'm glad to see the daylight lasts until about 5 in the afternoon, these days, and I don't have as much an inclination to hibernate as I did a few weeks ago.

The boatie boys and girls have returned to the river, and the boathouse buzzes once again with the sound of ergometers and weights being dropped (needlessly).  There is a big push for training at the moment, as the Lent Bumps are a big event next month.  I've heard that the Bumps were developed as a means to rid boathouses of old boats.  What happens is that boats are seeded according to their performance in the last year's Bumps, much like a head race - the only difference being that physical contact between boats is not only allowed but encouraged, so long as you are the bumper and not the one being bumped.  There are some wonderful videos of boats moving up on each other, trying to get the tap.  There are also some unfortunate videos of boats being steered directly into the banks of the Cam, in an effort to not get bumped, or, because the cox'n stopped paying attention.  It a test of a crew's strength and power, as well as a test of strategy and steering from the coxswain.  It's also hilarious to watch, and I look forward to Bumps week at the end of February.   

I've been doing a bit of coaching this week, and will probably stick to that this term, as I think it appeals to me more than coxing at the moment.  There are over 20 clubs that use the Cam, most of which are college crews.  It is said that most people try out rowing when at Cambridge, as it is the Thing to do, and that means that there are far more novices 'giving it a go' than experienced rowers.  All I can say about rowing in the morning during termtime (before lectures) is that it is pure carnage and worse traffic than the I-91/I-95 interchange during rush hour.  There are many rules set by the Cambridge University Combined Boat Club (CUCBC), which governs the college boat clubs' use of the River and monitors safety; however, there are so many rules that most people are not well-versed in them, nor are there a sufficient number of experienced coxes and coaches to make sure that their rowers know what to do in a pinch.  Not to mention the fact that novice rowers are usually concentrating more on rowing in time and don't have the same reaction time as experienced rowers do.  I've seen more broken boats on this river than anywhere else I've been... no wonder the first lesson for Cam novices is to learn to stop the boat quickly. 

We may always know what is right: but not always what is possible.  -John Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture

I have been looking for a copy of John Ruskin's Seven Lamps of Architecture for almost a decade.  The book does exist in modern-day print, but there is something about a well-worn volume that I cannot resist.  For years, I searched the dusty shelves of used book stores, charity shops, and rare books collections.  Today, my search ended in the Red Cross charity shop.  I planned to do a bit of research at the Cambridgeshire Records Office and arrived at 12:30 only to find out that it closes for lunch hour at 12:45.  Whoops.  Instead of cycling all the way home and back, I decided to browse the used book selections of the charity shops nearby.  The Red Cross shop was the last one in a row of shops and it was a complete accident that I came upon the Seven Lamps as it was filed under something bizarre - I don't remember what exactly, but it was between shelves dedicated to humor and travel. 

Today was the first legitimately cold day in a few weeks.  It was also a sunny day, for which I was thankful as the misty rain was starting to get to me.  I took advantage of the fine weather to climb the Castle Mound, the only hill in Cambridge.  It's not much of a climb - perhaps forty feet up, but the view is magnificent.  Stories have it that the Romans chose that spot because it was from there that they could spot the approach of their enemies.  They certainly knew what they were doing, as one can see for miles around.  To the west, there is the University Library.  To the south and the east, the 'dreaming spires' of various Cambridge colleges rise.  I spend so much time holed up with books that I sometimes forget the beautiful scenery that exists outside.

Sorry for the entended silence on my part.  I have been busy with the writing and the short days didn't help my energy levels much. 

With the New Year in full swing, the temporary skating rink has been dissembled and all that is left is yellowed grass.  The shoppers still abound in the city centre, as the January sales are on, with "SALE!" screaming from shop windows.  It might be worse than the Christmas shopping.  I have stayed away from it all, as I do not want to be trampled in a sudden rush at the clearance area.  I have to correct myself.  I have been to one January sale - the Cambridge University Press holds a sale where books are marked down to 3GBP (does my keyboard really not have a pound symbol?).  Very good deals on books, though trying to get at the sale area is difficult because of all the other students and academics trying to get at the books too. 

The students have returned to Cambridge sporting all sorts of Christmas stash, some with tans and others with windburn from the skiing and whatnot they did during the break.  I was surprised to see so many cars loaded down with things, as I did not realise that students are required to vacate and clean out their rooms after each term, in order to avoid being charged room rent during the breaks.  It's probably a good idea, as it also decreases the risk of something perishable being left behind to rot over the course of six weeks. 

Today, I nearly got trampled by a large group of secondary school students visiting Cambridge.  I think I prefer the quieter version of Cambridge I'd grown accustomed to. 

It is almost 2008, and I have been thinking for the last week or so:  what have I accomplished this year?  I'm not sure what constitutes an accomplishment, but I know I'm still trying to do more with my life.  At some point along the way, I decided to devote my life to learning - I just realized this last week.  I am glad that my life has declined to follow a predictable path, because things wouldn't be as much fun. 

Philosophical waxing aside, I was in the local food shop today where many people were doing some last-minute shopping in preparation for New Year's Eve celebrations.  Most of the purchases looked quite normal - wine, cheese, crackers, little nibbly bits - but there was one man's purchase that caught my attention.  A man was buying a case of Red Bull, two sandwiches, 6 packets of marshmallows, a Mars bar and 2 gallon jugs of cooking oil... will he need the Red Bull to stay awake, the sandwiches to stave off hunger, and the oil for deep-fried marshmallows and Mars bar?? 

Happy New Year!

Well, we went to King's at 7 this morning, got through the gates with ease, and joined the queue that had already snaked around the building and grew steadily over the course of a few hours.  By 8, we had made fast friends with our fellow queue'rs, and every so often, we'd be asked by the porters to shuffle up a bit, to make room for more people.  They had ~650 available seats to those willing to queue up, and I must say, the British queue in style.  There were many a folding camp stool, a few lawn chairs, and even some tables that people brought along to make the wait a bit more bearable.  We were finally admitted at 1:30, and were seated in the antechapel, where we could admire the wooden screen from Henry VIII.  It was pretty amazing to be in the chapel, after having stood outside for so long.  To listen to the combined choirs of the King's choral scholars and the choristers from the King's College School was a surreal experience - well worth the short pilgrimmage we made today. 

Happy Christmas, everyone!

Today is the winter solstice.  I've been watching the sun set at around 3 each afternoon, with all traces of daylight gone by 4:15, and welcome the prospect of each day growing longer. 

Christmas looms nigh - in preparation for it, we have already attended two carol services.  The first was in November at Holy Trinity Church, and the second was the other day at Trinity's chapel.  I thoroughly enjoyed both for different reasons: the Holy Trinity service featured a friend of mine, who spoke of his encounters with various pit bulls in his new neighbourhood.  It is highly entertaining to imagine him, at a towering 6'3", watching in horror and muttering 'nice doggie, I love doggies... nice doggie,' as a very enthusiastic pit bull/bull mastif charges up to him.  Then, there was the Trinity College service, which included the incredibly talented children's choir from Little St. Mary's Church.  There was also a dramatisation of the journey to Bethlehem, in which a member of the clergy popped up behind the altar and yelled 'BOO!' scaring most of the congregation.  My favourite part was probably when the sheperds in search of Jesus's stable were walking through the chapel, discussing where they might find the stable.  Three little boys - brothers - wearing crowns (I'm pretty sure they weren't a part of the nativity play) piped up and pointed out the location of the stable for them.  The shepherds took this information in stride and continued on their journey to find the baby Jesus.  One of the little boys began to misbehave shortly thereafter and had to be taken out of the chapel by his father.  

The next carol service we are hoping to attend will be the Service of Lessons and Carols at King's College Chapel, on Monday.  We are prepared to queue at 6AM for entry to the chapel at 1:30PM.  I plan to wear lots of layers, and to bring a book, an umbrella and a bag of snacks.

All of Cambridge seems to be prepared for Christmas now.  The market has been filled at all hours, and the frenzy has reached a buzz I can only compare to pre-snowstorm grocery shopping in New England (where everyone goes out at the last minute to stock up on whatever they need, despite the advice for the opposite).  We went to the market yesterday, thinking it wouldn't be too crowded.  We were very, very wrong about that.  Even during its busiest times it hasn't been that busy at the market.  Mince pies and mulled wine abound and there is very little nougat and gingerbread about.  People say that nougat and gingerbread can be found on the Continent, but I've found a little nougat around town.  Gingerbread seems to take on mythical proportions and so I have been familiarizing myself with British Christmas traditions.  The mince pies have grown on me - my present favorite are the warmed deep-fill ones they served after the Trinity carol service. 

I have just received some GREAT news.  For a little while, there was talk of developing some land on the Choate campus to put in a golf course.  This would have meant the destruction of a lot of wetlands, but also of faculty homes.*  The project has been given the boot and Paddock Farm lives on!  yippee!

*I understand that sometimes homes have to go away because of development projects and other things that have greater 'value' such as the new terminal that is under consideration (or approved now?) at Heathrow, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. 

I haven't ventured into town as of late because 1) I was in the library, searching for books and reading, 2) I was in the kitchen, reading through my reading notes, 3) I was in the sitting room, reading some more, 4) I was writing up my literature review, and 5) those shoppers are crazy and they mean business. 

Michaelmas term is technically over, so many of the students have gone away for the 6-week break before the Lent term.  Many of them are off skiing or doing something glamourous, and those who stay are usually graduate students who are either tied to their labs, or working on essays that were assigned the last day of term and are due when the Lent term begins.  I had a review of literature to write, with a limit of 2000 words.  It was a struggle to begin, as I had a notebook-full of notes, and no organisation whatsoever.  Then, once I'd started, I had a lot of stuff on the screen with very little organisation.  I stared at the computer a lot, and baked a lot of bread (my method of procrastination).  Finally, I hit a groove (also known as the panic that sets in when I realise my assignment is due soon and that I need to get it finished and turned in before my supervisor emails me to ask me whether things are coming along) and finished the assignment with 0 words to spare, yesterday.  I am enjoying the research, however much I complain, and like the assignments I've had to write so far.  My card file is growing steadily, and I'm finding all sorts of tangents to distract me, but for the most part I've remained on track.  More or less.

Back to the Christmas shopping - There are crazed shoppers everywhere, and I'm beginning to believe that when one is intent on their Christmas shopping, they don't pay attention to anything else.  I've nearly run over many a shopper crossing the road, because they tend to step into the street and not look for cars, busses, or bicycles. 

It's starting to get a bit colder here, we've had a few frosty mornings.  I like the frost, especially because that means it's not raining, but when my bike seat is covered in it, it's not so pleasant!  I've been coxing a women's coxed 4, and we're racing the Christmas Head (a Cam race) this weekend.  It's the only race where we get to row by Trinity's boathouse, so we're hoping there will be some spectators there to cheer us on.  We've been meeting in the mornings and so I've had to layer up so that I don't get too cold on the ride out to the boathouse. 

Geoff and I are thinking about queuing up for the King's College Carol service on Christmas Eve.  The queues start at 5AM.  I'm still on the fence.

I have been spending a lot of time in the University Library's Rare Books Room lately, reading through different medical handbooks that were published in the 18th and 19th centuries.  The books are classified under different codes, such as "Cambridge," "Ely," "Hunter," and "1892."  Many of the books I have been reading have been classified under Hunter and I have been wondering what the names were for.  The other day, I found a letter tucked into the pages of a book on Simon Mason, an 18th century apothecary.  The letter was addressed to a Doctor Hunter, from a colleague who wrote him information about Mason.  There were also personal notes and annotations on small pieces of paper included with the volume.  It was extremely interesting to find something unexpected like that - a link to the person who carefully put together this collection of books over a lifetime.   

I am reading not only about the various treatments for malaria, but about the people who prescribed the treatments.  These ranged from members of the clergy, apothecaries, surgeons, gentlewomen healers, wise women, and quacks.  It is interesting to see the many varied remedies that were passed on, as well as how long they prevailed despite the fact that they may not have been effective.  It is equally interesting to see how much was known about diseases, in light of the fact that there were few diagnostic tests and the sophisticated equipment we depend on was either in the earliest stages of development or didn't exist at the time.  Treatment depended on symptoms, the appearance of the patient, gender, and, after a slow-moving reform in medical policy, physical examination.  Compared with modern medicine, the diagnostic process seems vague but somehow worked.

Oof.  Things have been very busy this past week, but well worth the effort put into everything.

We celebrated U.S. Thanksgiving (Canadian Thanksgiving was in October) with a group of North Americans this evening.  There were 19 adults and a baby seated around a dinner table that probably should seat 8-10, but despite the fact we were squashed together, it was a nice, cosy environment for all of us.  We shared a wonderful dinner, made possible by the combined efforts of all.  Being away from family during the holidays is not ideal, but happens on occasion.  I think the thing I miss about Thanksgiving at home most, is the fact that we have gone through a little extra effort to prepare food, to be in each others' company.  Though it wasn't home, it was really nice to be able to share a meal with a welcoming group of people tonight. 

Chad and Emily hosted the fantastic feast, and from what I gather they know most of the people through their church.  There were a few theologians and historians in the group, and a man called Bill gave a nice account of how U.S. Thanksgiving came to be.  Chad is also a historian and gave us more insight as to what it meant.  We finished the meal with a reading from the Bible, psalm 104. 

After dinner, we stretched out some in the living room to chat a bit before having some dessert.  Chad told us a story of how he lost his wallet today.  He had been on the train and realised suddenly that his wallet was missing.  There was a lot of cash in it, as he'd just withdrawn money from the cashpoint, and he looked everywhere for it.  After spending some time on the platform, he decided to return to where he had alighted and saw a man holding what looked like his wallet, looking at him.  The man approached Chad and asked whether he was missing his wallet.  This man had clearly spent a great deal of time looking for Chad, to give him his wallet.  Chad was so overcome with relief that he hugged this man, a perfect stranger.  The man wouldn't take anything for the wallet's return, despite Chad's offer.  Even though the UK doesn't observe Thanksgiving (for obvious reasons), I think this anecdote was in keeping with the spirit of the day. 

One thing that struck me was when Chad said grace before the meal.  He said that we should not worry about what we don't have.  We are supposed to be thankful for what we do have.  I think that is a sound philosophy/bit of common sense.  It's also not a new thought, but something worth revisiting every once in a while.  I don't think it means that one should be completely passive in how life unfolds, however, but there are needs and wants, and sometimes we must remind ourselves to separate the two.  There are people worse off than most of us on a bad day, and we really can't complain about our lives.  When I say 'we,' I am talking about those of us who know there is a next meal, who have a place to live, who have some sense of security knowing that it is highly unlikely that our country will be taken over by a dictator or something like that.  I might not know what life will throw at me tomorrow, but I can take comfort in the fact that I have enough right now. 

I am thankful for the fact that I've met people like Emily and Chad, who welcomed us, and made us all feel a little bit like we were home with family, instead of far away from home missing our families.

I raced the Cambridge Winter Head with Trinity First and Third, this past weekend.  It was the first race I did in Britain, ten years ago.  Does that make me old?  I decided it does not.  It just makes me wiser. 

I still remember how Alan Wells (my coach at UEA) sat me down the evening before the race and talked me through the race course.  I think my rowers and he were concerned that I'd hit the bank coming off one of the sharp corners.  Had I seen a map of the river instead of the squiggly lines he drew on a napkin, I would have been concerned too.  Well, I didn't hit the corner that day (Andy, my bowman bought me a pint in celebration of this feat), and I didn't hit it this time. 

This time, it was my 'home' course, and we won our division by 17 seconds, at that.  It's a small race, so nothing to get too excited about, but I now have a nice little penant to hang on our (still, embarrassingly) bare walls. 

PS: I'm cheating a little and changed the post date on this, because I wanted Thanksgiving to have its own post date.

Sometimes, we must make difficult choices.  Those choices are sometimes made even more difficult by the circumstances and the details presented with them. 

Today, the choice had to be made between loo roll (toilet paper) and food because my bag was mostly filled with rowing clothing and associated objects.  Somehow, I neglected to actually make the decision because oranges were on sale, and I couldn't remember how much toilet paper we had.  The lack of space available for groceries (transport on our bikes mainly) does make it necessary for us to plan ahead when we do our food shops.  We have gotten the routine down, where we can fit all the necessities into our bags.  Every once in a while, a bit of creative rearrangement is needed when we realize that our shopping has exceeded the space available.

One of the larger adjustments to living here has been with our shopping, as we no longer can depend on the car for large objects.  Instead, we buy the absolute necessities and are finding that we aren't lacking from anything, after all.  Just goes to show how one's perspective of what is necessary can change.  Because of city layout and the road system, we have found that a vehicle isn't necessary for our daily lives, and that cycling around town is the fastest and most convenient form of transportation.  At the weekend, however, that can be the opposite because of all the tourists and other people shopping in town.  Most drivers are mindful of cyclists and give way to bikes when there is no cycle lane, which is a nice change from cycling in the States!

I used to sing this song when I was little about a baby bumble bee.  At the end of the song, I would go, "ow!  It bit me!"

Well, I had that experience recently.  Sort of.  I was at Madingley Hall, this pretty 16th century estate out of which my course is run.  To begin, I found out that there are very few buses to get there and back.  There are three that go there, and three or four that come back.  Only problem is that they are not synchronized so that you can go at three different times in the day and expect to have a return bus.  The reality is that there is one bus you can catch to get there, and one bus to return to Cambridge.  And the bus driver is a nutter.  When I got on the bus, he pressed the 'single' trip button before I told him that I wanted a 'return' ticket.  The single fare is more than half of what the return fare costs, which is why you have to specify which one you want.  So he thought for a moment and said, "right.  Give me the fare for the single and I'll only charge you the remainder for the return ticket when you come back.  Don't worry, love, it'll be me driving."  I decided to believe him and paid the single fare.

The man has no fear.  For others or himself.  The roads he was driving are narrow with little room on either side.  At some point, I could have reached out and knocked on a window of someone's second-floor apartment - we were that close to the building!  In the end, we made it to Madigley in one piece and I got off the bus to walk up a path to the estate, past a cow pasture and a little chapel. 

I met the director and other people associated with my program and got all the necessary paperwork completed.  Then, I went for a little walk around the grounds, as I had 3 hours before the return bus to Cambridge was due to pick me up.  The grounds are extensive and well-kept by a busy team of gardeners.  A small orchard and a croquet lawn flank the house/mansion.  Very nice place for a two hour walk, though I had to pass a set of windows belonging to a classroom a couple times.  I think they thought I was a little bit strange because it wasn't very sunny out and I was just wandering around. 

Finally, I figured it was time for me to head to the bus stop because I did not want to miss the bus and have to take a taxi back to Cambridge.  As I was passing the cows and the chapel on my way out, a yellowjacket stung me on the side of the head.  I'm not sure what happened to it after I let out a little yelp and swatted at my head, but I think I scared it off because it didn't come back.  There was no one around and it was too far for me to walk back to the house, so I had to sit down on a little bench because I'd gotten really light-headed all of a sudden.  This was when a big truck came up and stopped at the intersection, which is normal.  What wasn't normal was when the driver got out of the truck (there were a few cars behind him) to ask me directions to get to some road nearby.  Did I look like I knew what I was doing or was the hand-to-head-because-a-bee-stung-me some sort of signal that I knew my way around Madingley?  Lucky for the driver, I had a map he could look at and then he was on his way.  The cars behind him were very patient and didn't honk at all.  The stranger thing was that about 10 seconds later, another person approached me to ask for directions to Cambridge.  I let him look at my map too, and he was on his way.  I didn't think to ask whether either of them knew of any bee sting remedies.  'My' bus showed up after a while and the driver looked at me, then at the little buttons he could choose from, and back at me.  He finally selected 'child' and asked for that fare (which is much less than what the remainder fare should have been).  I must have looked very confused, because he waved at me to go sit down.  So I sat and enjoyed the mad ride back to Cambridge, where I went directly to Boots and got myself some "wasp-eze" spray for my poor head. 

I've seen the mad driver since then, and know to give him a very wide berth, especially if he's coming around a corner!

It's about 9:30 PM and I am starting to believe we're not going to have any trick-or-treaters.  Hmmm... I was under the impression that kids do go out in the UK.  We have a few kids in our neighborhood - I've seen loads of them - but maybe it's because they go to the school nearby and they don't live here.  On my way home from a lecture tonight, I did see a few university students going around the pubs all dressed up.  The silver lining is that we now have a bag of crunchie bars to treat ourselves with. 

On a different note, I was reading the BBC news online (our tie to the outside world since we don't have a television and have found that we don't miss it) and read about a town in England that has stopped using plastic bags in favor of using something more environmentally friendly.  The link is below, in case you're interested.  The website below the link is mentioned in the article and discusses the practicality and efficacy of the concept.  Pretty neat idea.  Most of the time, plastic bags rip or fall apart at a crucial moment, anyway.  I've taken to using a canvas London Review of Books bag we got over the summer at a conference Geoff presented at or a Scout tote bag a student gave me at the end of the year.   

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/devon/7065457.stm
plasticbagfree.com

I am back in the UK, as of Tuesday.  I spent some quality time in the library, catching up a bit, and got quite a bit done.   

For your amusement... There are many little quirks:

We have to report our gas and electricity meter readings to the appropriate companies upon moving in, and monitor them on a monthly basis (I think).  Too bad no one told us where these meters are located.  We finally found the gas meter for our flat by where we have decided to store our bikes.  The company that manages our flat told us that our front door key opens this little cupboard under the stairs (not like the one in Harry Potter) that has the electricity meter.  It does NOT open the cupboard.  Lies!!!  Then, the management company told us a meter reading that was less than what the electricity company have for our flat.  Hmmmm... Which one should we believe? 

Our electricity provider is called PowerGen and our Gas provider is called Southern Electric.  How does that make any sense?

Our bath gets very moist and we have tried just about everything to de-moisten it.  There is a little fan that tries very hard to move air in or out, but doesn't really do much more than make a little whirring noise.  We keep the window open and have decided that we might have to get a dehumidifier in the end.

We have finally got our internet hooked up at home.  Only problem the network outlets are in two of the four main rooms.  One is in the bedroom.  The other is in our small study that we have been using for storage.  We haven't been able to use it as a proper study yet, since the desk and the reading chair that are in the front room are too big to fit through the door.  I finally decided that I was determined to use the room and have set up the ironing board as a desk.  Works all right as long as I don't accidentally collapse the ironing board (I have already done this once, and got my arm caught somewhere in between, which prevented my computer from hitting the floor).

I raced at the Head of the Charles yesterday afternoon, in the Men's Master 4+ event.  It was an exciting race 1) because we were the two-time defending champions, 2) because the guys were fired up and ready to go, and 3) because I couldn't see what was going on behind us (as the coxswain, I face forward and the rowers face where we've been).

Starting a head race first is always difficult for me, because there's nothing for us to chase; instead, we ARE what's being chased.  I also don't like the fact that I can't take a look behind us, being encapsulated in the bow compartment of the boat.  Because of this, one has to go by time elapsed (based on wind, river, and other conditions), and whether the guys seem particularly stressed. 

The morning's races had seen very fast conditions, with many records broken.  We weren't sure whether or not the conditions would change, but breaking a record was definitely on our collective minds as we stormed down the course.  Usually, at a rating of 34-35 strokes per minute (SPM), things can feel a bit rough in the bow, because the bow lunges forward (also known as check) with each stroke.  Yesterday was something special, because I felt very little check  and the ride was smooth during the entire three-mile course.  The first two and a half miles were a lot of fun to cox, because of the fact that the boat was running so smoothly and we were going very quickly.  The thing that made it even better were the crowds cheering for us.  As the local boat club, there were many competitors, spectators, and race officials cheering for us all the way down the course.  I even got my own personal "Go Cynthia!" cheer coming through Weeks Footbridge from a man I'd met the day before (he had come all the way from Wisconsin, and was attending the Head to watch his kids race - I was on dock duty, making sure no one hit the bridge or strayed onto the race course, and he had found a spot nearby to take some photographs).  I thought it was really nice he remembered my name, let alone cheered for us!

Getting through Eliot Bridge was difficult, but Chris and Tom (my starboard side rowers) pulled us around magnificently, despite the wicked head wind that threatened to push us into the abutment of the bridge.  I've never hit a bridge before, and was not planning to try it out.  Then came the sprint.  It never ceases to amaze me that these four rowers, who have practiced together on a regular basis over the last four years, can go through two and a half miles at a high intensity, then take it up for the last 350 meters for the sprint, and still make the boat underneath us feel smooth and effortless while their muscles scream bloody murder.  But they did and our last minute was rowed at 38-39 SPM.

In the end, we did not break the course record yesterday, but did win by 7.5 seconds, continuing our winning streak over Palm Beach RC (they won three in a row, 1998-2000, before 1980 RC won four in a row, 2001-2004).  I think we can expect them to come back next year, hungrier, and ready to challenge the title, but as the Charles is so unpredictable, it's anyone's race.  We will just have to see.

Nothing like a gorgeous Sunday morning to experience Trinity's Chapel service (and breakfast in hall afterwards).  The Trinity Chapel was built in the late 16th century and consists of a long chamber with pews flanking both sides.  It is a bit odd, to not sit facing the altar staring at a large crucifix, but there was a feeling of stillness and a general feeling of peacefulness. 

There was a full program to follow and for the most part, it was a standard C of E chapel service.  What was not standard was the choir and organist.  They are magnificent.  It is not the same sound as is produced by the pre-pubescent boys' choir of King's College, but it contains the richness of sound that only very good choirs can produce.  With good intonation, pitch, and volume control, the experience of listening to this choir would inspire even me to go to chapel on a regular basis. 

What I find interesting is that the hymn books have all the words and no actual music in them - I guess it is understood that the melodies are just known by all.  After the first verse, you can just get the melody, and by the fourth or fifth verse you're a pro at it. 

The sermon itself sent a good message, with recent political issues and the general idea of human nature in mind.  It basically boils down to "keep your nose clean and do acts of welfare for others."  The welfare bit was expanded upon a bit - where you should do nice things for others, even (or especially) if they don't deserve it.   Not the easiest thing to do, voluntarily.  Especially in this day and age of people just taking advantage of the fact that someone else is willing to do something nice for those who aren't doing anything.

After the service, we all went to Hall and had some pastry and tea and other breakfasty goodies.  We got to chat with the chaplain as well - she studied literature before she went to the cloth and has a little bit of a potty-mouth (outside the chapel!). 

Overall, something that I might do on a more regular basis.  I am still unsure as to where my beliefs lie, but things have never been that clear-cut, anyway. 

Living in a new place can be pretty cool.  We have figured out that it isn't all that different from living in any other place.  You have to adjust to new things, maybe the store doesn't carry products you're used to - you adapt.   

Yes, there are cool little secret passageways like in Harry Potter that spit one out into a random little side-street, and yes, the old buildings are really cool.  But, if you're feeling envious that we're living in the UK, don't.  We live about a mile and a half from Trinity College (Geoff's college at Cambridge) and cycle into town.  We constantly have to deal with road raging idiots on the way in, because while there are bike lanes, they mysteriously disappear or suddenly merge with auto traffic.  The really poor exchange rate (on our side, anyway) and the perpetual feeling of damp isn't so hot, either.  And it hasn't even started raining yet (it rains steadily from November until April - oh joy!). 

Good experience and character building though, eh?

I got a reader's ticket to the Public Records Office today.  The process isn't very difficult.  I probably could have walked in with fake identification and a mustache and still gotten my ticket.  It was a bit of a let-down, however.  I thought I'd find all sorts of journals and things so I could read about Georgian life in East Anglia.  Not so much.  I ended up getting more out of my experience at the University Library Rare Books Room than out of the Public Records Office.  No, I didn't get to wear the little cotton gloves.  I did get to read through a hilarious account of the Ague and Fever and how to cure it.  I don't think it was meant to be a comedy, but some of the remedies sounded rediculous.  One of the accounts was about drinking gin when feeling feverish because of the instantaneous feeling of wellness.  Ha!