Class went well-- it also went fast. The professor brought her knowledge to bear on one of our research essay prompts, so I was scribbling short hand as fast as I could. Now I have to see whether I can decipher just what it is that I wrote, and that paper should be a breeze to complete.
That's if I can sit down and write. Every time I sit too long, I start to feel tired.
That could be in part from the time difference, but also because I'm walking far more than usual. I actually managed to burn the few parts of me that were showing yesterday-- namely face and neck.
After class, a couple of us ran errands. Truly miscellaneous stuff, stuff accomplished weekly in Austin-- but it's so different here. A) We're walking everywhere. B) Half the people on the street, regardless of the fact this is England, are not speaking English. C) The sales people are made dramatically more attractive and sexy by dint of their accent. We bought stamps, sweatshirts, and groceries. One of the professors informed us that we can store cheese in the open air. I couldn't believe such a thing-- bacteria! bacteria!!-- but a couple could and so bought cheese and baguettes at the grocery store, Sainfields.
Kathleen and I went on an afternoon trek to the train station in order to validate our railway tickets. We're going on field trips tomorrow and Wednesday and leave incredibly, incredibly early Thursday for France. There were three attractive army men in front of us at the rail station-- But they didn't have British accents. Irish, maybe.
Before dinner, several of us went to The Mitre for tea at the suggestion of one of the professors. We felt intimidated at first-- turns out if you just want tea, you seat yourself in the tea room and send someone to order at the bar, five pounds a setting. Liz instructed Amy to ask for "crumpets and clotted cream," but the waiter said that those aren't served with tea; scones, scones are served with tea, and that we shouldn't be disappointed because scones are much better than crumpets.
I'm rather inclined to believe him as the scones were wonderful, not dry at all as they usually are in America. Perhaps I was just very hungry, not having eaten anything since breakfast, but every one else was also well satisfied, particularly with the effect of the jam on the scone, so we can all rest well in the knowledge that the cute British man (and he was actually attractive, it wasn't just his accent that made him that way) didn't lie to us.
This evening after dinner I have resolved to work on my Dashwood paper, and failed to do so. Tomorrow.
