Josh Janus, International Tumbleweed

Glimpse of Life (in 140 characters)

Scene: Library. Characters: 2 male students. Action: #2 walk up to #1 as #1 seated. Words of greeting, #2 knuckles #1 on chin. Aw, how cute.

Village Life (UK)

One advantage to living in a small English village is the socialisation made possible by proximity.  Assuming that one falls in well with one or more families in one’s village, one has opportunities to lunch, dine, snack or simply sit and talk with one’s neighbours at any mutually convenient time. 

This afternoon, my aunt and I walked across the street to the neighbourhood pub; we ordered drinks and started speaking to the folks who had already gathered.  ‘Ere long, other families started to arrive, bringing new faces and names to the mix; as a guest, I had the opportunity to be introduced to a number of residents and to begin to frame the connections between the various village folk.  A couple invited my aunt and me over for lunch, whereupon we spent a delightful few hours eating heartily and discussing American politics.  (In this village, at least, there is a pronounced distaste for things Republican… I fit in well!)

This evening, after a recuperative nap, my aunt and I crossed the road yet again to another neighbourhood couple’s house… dinner was of lighter fare than was lunch, though the single malt and wine flowed freely and the conversation was pleasant and lively.  Shared experiences between my aunt and her friends made for an easy time; we ate and talked from 8:30 until after 11 PM.

I’m sure the experience for new folks untethered by bonds of shared work, family or other common experience would be different… but, once established, there is a sense of inclusion in the village community that’s nice to see — and very different from American suburbia’s self-contained house-pod system of disconnected family “castles”.

Upsides and down-, there’s good to be found here.

Saturday Evening Useless Meme

The Rules:

1. Link to the person that tagged you.
2. Post the rules on your blog.
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website.

Courtesy of domesticat.

Six Non-important/habits/quirks about me:

1.  I can’t properly begin a day without a hot shower.  Showering before bed is nice, because it gets me clean and all, but is insufficient for purposes of the next day’s fresh beginning.

2.  I almost always back into parking spaces.  Safety-wise, this lets me confirm that the space is empty before I enter it and see better as I depart; it also makes it easier for me to find my vehicle when I return from wherever I’ve gone.

3.  Double espressos are my main source of caffeine.  On the advice of a fitness-minded friend (hi, Justin!), I’ve all but given up sodas; according to him, the artificial sweeteners in Coke Zero and Diet Coke (my sodas of choice) are metabolized as if they were sugars… which, to my mind, means there are bulky cells occupying space in my body in which aspartame is stored, as if for future use.  [shudder]

4.  I’m 1/4 Cuban, courtesy of my paternal grandmother.  Betcha didn’t see that one coming (says the pasty white one)! ;-)

5.  I often see words that aren’t there when I glance quickly at passing signs and adverts… usually, the words are naughty — or, at the least, amusing.  Just a cigar, right?

6.  I despise mornings and function poorly when awakened during them.  The hours between 4 AM and noon are for sleeping — or for getting home from doing something fun!  (Or someone… though staying over’s nice, too, as I recall….)

Maybe I’ll revisit that linking thing when I know more blogs….

I am...

…unused to staying out ‘til 6 AM, drinking and conversing amiably in a pub.

 I am also unaccustomed to strangers nattering on and using an electric hairdryer whilst I am trying to sleep.

I shall purchase something sweet (and more water) when first I enter the Tube today… I’m worth it!

That is all. 

Memorandum

To: The Five Ladies of the Other Bunks
From: He Who Makes This Room “Mixed”
Subject: Morning Welcome

Dear fellow travelers,

Allow me to welcome you to our shared accomodations; I hope you all slept well. Yes, thank you, I slept quite soundly after returning to our room last night.  I hope I was sufficiently discreet in eschewing the exchange of my contact lenses for glasses, brushing my teeth and other actions which might have made noise to disturb your slumbers. No, it was nothing to me to carefully direct the dim red beam of my flashlight away from your closed eyes as I slid my things into a locker for the night — think nothing of it.

Oh, I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying your stay here in London… yes, it *is* exciting to wake in a strange and new city — even at 6:00 in the morning.  No, your conversations with one another were barely audible and I’m sure you simply overlooked the effects of flashing the fluorescent emergency light on and off while you searched through your bags for the items you overlooked setting out last night.  Surely that was the better option when compared to using the main overhead light!  The morning sunlight you later admitted through drawing the curtains was bracingly refreshing, I thought… no wonder you exclaimed over it as you planned your day!

One small thing I might ask of you… and I hope it’s not too much of an imposition: When next you employ your electric hair dryer, might you select only one of its fan speeds for your use?  As white noise goes, the high whine of the motor is but slightly less soothing than ocean waves crashing ashore; however, too-frequent changes from “low” to “high” speed and back can be mildly distracting.

You’re too kind… I do hope your morning preparations were all that you’d expect given the limited facilities of our sleeping quarters; I, too, wish the lavatories down the hall had more counterspace and electrical outlets!  Oh — and I hope the beeping of my 9:00 watch alarm was not distracting to you; I tried to silence it as soon as it sounded.

Enjoy your day in London; I’m sure I’ll see you all later tonight. If, when I do, I seem somewhat bleary of eye, take that only for the happy exhaustion that comes from a day of cheery exploration in a new place filled with thoughtful, considerate fellow travelers such as your esteemed selves.

Wishing you all the best, I remain

Most sincerely yours,

Josh

Details

Today’s largest chunk of city time was spent at the Victoria & Albert Museum… I got a relatively late start, so I had time to browse only a few galleries.

It was interesting to notice myself going from an attitude of “okay, here’s a gallery of stuff; let’s look and move on” to “Oh, my… that detail! that craftsmanship! whoa… oh, why can’t I hold that?” appreciation.  There is some *seriously* fine work on display at V&A… and I wonder that I’m surprised by that.  Perhaps it’s worth noting that my last two gallery experiences were at the Greenville Art Museum and my uni’s student art gallery… as good as their materials may be, they’re not of a type or quality that penetrates the veil masking my uncultured artistic vision.  Today, though, I saw pieces I’d like to have in my house — or, rather, in the house I’d like to have.

(Is it significant that much of what I saw and wanted was crafted for palaces?)

Tomorrow, methinks, more art… unless I hold that for Thursday, when rain is in the forecast (say it with me, folks: FORE cahst).

Sidebar: I found it distracting that the music played at the Indian restaurant in which I ate dinner was American pop — as in, “I’m A Survivor” and “My Love Don’t Cost A Thing”.  Also, Zagat-rated they might be, but the lamb was a bit tough… needs more tandoori time! 

Please, sir...

After purchasing postcards near the Houses of Parliament, I wandered down The Queen’s Walk along the Thames… there were two groups of folks who’d made sand sculptures on the riverbank, security staff halfheartedly patting down riders at the London Eye and, near a concerthall, a red coffee cart.

Attending said cart was a 30-ish woman in a camouflage jacket; a German flag was on her shoulder and a British accent on her lips.  As she served the quartet in queue before me, a little blond boy walked up and leaned familiarly on the cart.  He picked up a small bottle of pressurized whipped topping and noted aloud that there was very little left inside the can.

Positively urchin-like, he was… and  I found myself possessed of an almost irresistable urge to call the lad “Oliver”.

Taking my double shot of espresso in hand (the first of three for my evening), I proceeded down the Walk, smiling.