and then there was Winter

Winter quarter was sadly not much of an improvement over Autumn. I didn't do any theater, so I got out less. Perhaps I was less stressed, but as things ramped up with my thesis, I didn't notice, and was only aware of my ever-narrowing social life. However, I still had my delightful quartet, and only went to the doctor once and the hospital not at all. This was an improvement over my bi-weekly doctor's visits and one ER trip in Autumn. :) I was more or less over the mono, and returned to my daily gym work out, until one fine morning, hives appeared on my arms, and spread and worsened. 'Oh, hullo, hives,' said I, 'and where are you from?' 'Wouldn't you like to know,' they replied coyly. Having rid my apartment of allergens, at least to the best of my ability, I betook myself to the doctor, who said, 'oh, well, it's probably stress.' I felt like this was a bit unfair, not of the doctor, but of life, since the hives had significantly raised my stress level. Sadly, this saga is not completely ended. The bad hives only continued for two weeks, defying a course of antihistamines and the first round of steroids, succumbing eventually to the combined powers of atarax, steroids and calamine lotion applied three times a day. However, they still take any opportunity to reappear, such opportunities including but not limited to: hot showers, scented lotion/sunblock, and heat such as that which is currently afflicting the midwest. :( While I have always had sensitive skin, this is a bit absurd.
But having that be essentially the only health problem for the quarter was still an improvement. My classes were interesting. I continued with ASL (joy!), and took my last Core requirement: math. Actually, I took geometry, and loved it. It was a tiny class, and the professor was engaging and patient, despite being a genius (he had a PhD from Columbia at age 19). He said he had no interest in failing any of us, but in teaching us as much as we could learn in the time allotted. I was also reminded of why I loved geometry (it makes SENSE unlike the rest of math). Since he didn't really fancy giving an exam (well, for finals, there were two midterms), he suggested we write papers. As I was writing enough to be going on with, I didn't like this plan, so instead, he suggested I write a series of proofs, and I did this in the best main lesson book style. Once a steiner student, always a steiner student. I did a cover page and everything. :) I also took my last degree requirement, the one and only American lit course I took in my college career: the poetry of Moore, Bishop, Lowell, and Plath. I enjoyed it more than I expected, again mostly due to the brilliance of the professor, a young PhD candidate, who clearly adores these poets. Her enthusiasm was infectious. Moore was my favorite, with her carefully constructed poems and stunning imagery. I liked Bishop for her emotion, some of Lowell for the crazy, but not much of Plath. Both Lowell and Plath, but especially Plath, occasionally took too much joy in being shocking simply for the sake of it, with no other point than the shock. In fact, if I'm remembering correctly, my favorite poem of Plath's was the one about Ted Hughes (I forget the title), in which she imitates his style. oh well. We read their letters at the same time, because they all knew each other, and were friends, and Plath's letters were delightful, and I enjoyed them much better than her poetry.
At some point, I met with my thesis adviser, and made the mistake of asking for an extension on an intermediate deadline (not the final deadline), as I had been so ill. She said she couldn't do that, and offered these alternative options as comfort: I could not graduate in the Spring, and thus have until July to finish the thesis, or I could give up and not finish it at all, seeing as how it wasn't necessary for the English degree. I didn't think much of either of these suggestions, and in fact, they just increased my stress level, since I felt in them a judgment (almost certainly imagined) of my personal ability to finish this project. In reality, I believe my adviser was trying to give me the options of ways out of my situation.
On the positive side, Winter Quarter did include the Brent House retreat. We went to St. Gregory's abbey in western Michigan, and it was lovely. The monks there do all of the daily offices, starting at 4am, and I made it to several (not all of them this year). The services are comfortingly regular and straightforward, meditative. There was also a lot of snow, and we went sledding, which was loads of fun.
Oh, and I forgot about Winter vacation! I went straight from school directly to visit Kate in Texas, where I got in lots of good riding. A highlight of that was when I was doing a course, probably of five small jumps, and as I was coming up to the last one, the instructor called out that I should add on the roll-top, something I'd never done before. Not having time to panic, I just sailed over it like it was nothing. Ok, so maybe to most riders it *is* nothing, but not to me. And I did it. :D From Texas, I went to California to visit Jayne and see the San Francisco Dickens Fair. I loved it! It was indoors, and quite similar to Renaissance festivals, but the entertainment and costumes were, of course, different. A lot of the vendors overlapped though. My favorite part was Pickwick's Warehouse, where they had dancing. Sometimes, it was groups performing, and sometimes it was open dancing, when you could either dance with the people who were there (and knew what they were doing), or with your friends if you preferred. It was great fun. Caroline joined us for that, looking elegant as ever. Here is a picture of the three of us:
My dress was courtesy of the wonderful Helen Welford.
From there it was home for Christmas, the comforts of home, my family and my cats. :)
And with that happy memory, I will leave you until later, when I will return with the final catch-up post, covering Spring quarter and the first month of the rest of my life, post-graduation.

In which I try once again to catch up

As always, I must apologize for the long delay in posting. My hope is to catch this blog up to the present, so that I can update more frequently, and that without the pressure of months of news, I will be able to tell the more entertaining stories of daily life.
When I left the last post, I had just gotten to the end of the summer, and the Michigan Renaissance Festival. I went straight from there to Chicago and school. During the Festival, I had begun doing reading for my thesis (by begun, I mean, I had a tub with some thirty books, and I read the relevant passages of all of them before school started). Once I got back to school though, the work started in earnest. I was frantically trying to come up with an actual topic, having finally settled on my text, The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. In addition to work on my thesis, I began studying American Sign Language, which is incredibly fascinating. That class (which I continued through Spring quarter) ended up being one of the best parts of my year. I also took a far less interesting course called Sense, Sensibility and Sexuality on nineteenth century novels. It was rather disappointing, despite the tantalizing title. The third course was the spot filler which I dubbed the 'please research for your thesis' class. Basically, it allowed me (or any student writing a thesis) to only take two classes, and still count as a full time student. Still, I kept busy.
I was, of course, still working at the library. I got promoted, which meant that I got to play with fun tools. I checked books in, and eventually also got to do data entry--actually, this is not sarcastic. Any task which allows me to sit while at work is a thing to be coveted. The best part was the machine that printed out new barcode stickers. It made very futuristic noises. (hey, simple pleasures are the key to happiness).
One of the other pleasures of this year was a quartet that I organized with David Bevington, who plays the viola (when he's not busy being a world-famous Shakespeare scholar, of course). We recruited a couple of violinists, and had a lovely informal group. We met every few weeks, and sight read every time, just enjoying the music, and not expecting great quality. Afterwords, we would sit in David's kitchen and drink tea and chat. It was really lovely. David Bevington is one of the great things at the University of Chicago. He is technically retired, but teaches almost as often as the full-time professors. His lectures are brilliant. But beyond that, he fosters the culture on campus. He plays in the Chamber Orchestra and supports University Theater, as well as always being up for such ventures as my little quartet. For all of these things, he hosts great parties, with good drinks and boundless food, and usually music. During my second year, he hosted a small party, only for musicians, and we all sat down and quaffed, and sight read, and I felt very bohemian in the best sense. When I grow up, I hope to be half as cool as David, and not just for his excellent scholarship.
I costume designed for the play The Shape of Things, by Neil LaBute. It is a version of the Pygmalion story, with the subject's social clout changed through appearance, set in modern times. It is a good, although slightly traumatizing, play, but costumes are absolutely vital, since they tell a big part of the story. Still, this is the show design of which I am most proud, so it was worth the hard work. I built a prosthetic nose for the main character, who had to undergo a nose job in the middle of the show (eventually, the director decided to have the nose job happen on stage...), and friends of the actor even had time recognizing what was different about his face. I'm pretty proud of that. Of course, all of the costume changes, the nose not least, meant that I had to be backstage every night.
This brings me to what made Autumn quarter so stressful. In the midst of all of these responsibilities, I came down with mono. I was quite sick, but didn't have a diagnosis until the week before the show opened. At that point, I felt that I couldn't let everyone down, so I slogged through. It was rather epic, to be honest. I suppose I must not have had the worst case of mono, since I made it out of bed, but it also required huge amounts of will power, and I wonder who could make a quantitative judgment of how bad one person's experience of a disease is. Someone with a worse case of mono could have more strength of will and do more, but by the same token, someone with a milder case could still spend 18 hours in bed. I certainly wanted to, but felt that it wasn't an option. I also had a lot of scares, for lack of a better word, of worse complications. First, a two-week long stomach ache, which the doctor thought might be pancreitis. It cleared up, and the tests were negative: phew, what a relief. I was also having quite a lot of trouble breathing, which, after it had continued for a long time, made the doctor worry about blood clots in the lungs. A blood test showed something that indicated that this might indeed be what was wrong with me, so I trotted off to the ER for a CT scan, and a five hour period of languishing in uncertainty. Luckily, the scan came back clear. The doctors in the ER were rude and dismissive the whole time, and it was a rather miserable experience. I am very glad that these things ended up being empty scares, but I am also glad that the doctor in the Student Care Center took them seriously and investigated them. It was terrifying at the time, not least the periods of waiting for results. Anyways, thank goodness that's all passed!
Amidst all of this, I dated a boy. The best thing to be said about this is that if one has to kiss a lot of frogs before finding one's prince, well, I'm one frog closer.
I started attending Church of the Atonement, in Roger's Park. This church is *very* high church, to say the least. However, they are very liberal, and everyone is incredibly welcoming (N.B. these things do not always go hand in hand, btw!). I am enjoying it there, and look forward to spending more time and getting more involved now that it's not an hour and a half commute via the CTA. :) I love coming home smelling of incense I continued to attend Brent House in the evening, although I did not get as involved as I had in previous years. I preached once a quarter, which was good practice. Does it ever get less nerve wracking? I would also like the writing process to become less fraught. There were some pretty tough spots. I am told that, on the whole, my sermons were quite good, but I don't have an unbiased opinion on that front.
I think this brings us through Autumn Quarter. I will leave Winter and Spring for later posts (hopefully sooner rather than later though), as this is getting quite long.
Dear readers, should any of you still exist, I thank you for your patience and fidelity. Perhaps the content of these posts can present my excuses as to why I have not written sooner. Otherwise, I can only apologize.
God bless!

Happy New Year!

As this year draws to a close, I am painfully aware that I have not maintained my resolution to be more frequent and regular with updates to my blog, nor have I been more faithful in keeping in touch with my distant friends. So, once again, my New Year’s resolution will be to fix both of those problems. Also, I suppose I could resolve to figure out what I’m doing next year, but that’s more of a necessity than a resolution.

Anyways, what has been happening since I posted in the summer? The Renaissance Festival was great, as expected. I survived the ordeal of living in a tent on the edge of a swamp in high mosquito season, mostly because it got too cold for mosquitoes in the last few weeks-dropping down to freezing temperatures at night. Of course, this presented other problems, i.e. how to stay warm enough at night! But cocooned in my down comforter, wool blankets, and warm pajamas, I did just fine. My tent turned out not to be entirely waterproof, at least not under the heavy pelting rains that hit us early on. However, a tarp rigged up in the trees just over my tent roof kept me-or at least my stuff-dry. Food was decent-my bosses have a Sam’s Club membership, and everyone contributed $20 to the weekly shopping trip. That meant that we got much better food than we could have otherwise managed. Most of the time we cooked dinner together (usually a slab of meat grilled, with veg and starch), and had sandwiches for lunch. One time, one of the knights went home to go hunting and brought back a whole lot of dove breasts, which were really quite tasty.

So much for basic living. The work was also highly enjoyable, naturally. On the weekends, I got up fairly early to get into costume, before heading up to the stables. There I show groomed the horses, with the other female squire, Nikki. This meant grooming their coats more carefully than just for a ride, as well as braiding their manes and tails. That sounds like a lot more fun than it is, because you quickly realize that horses have a lot more hair than you think. In other words, it takes an awfully long time to put a horse’s mane into little tiny braids with little tiny rubber bands at the end. Still, it was working with horses, so I didn’t really mind. Then, two knights and two squires had to go to front gate-the knights to accompany the Queen on her entrance into the village, one squire to clean up after the horses, and one squire (either Nikki or I) to ride the Queen’s horse, Baron, to the gate. He was side-saddled, but my boss Kate did not see the point of leading a horse anywhere when there was someone to ride it, so Nikki or I took him down and back in the morning. Then we had free time until noon, when we finished grooming the horses and tacked them (and the knights) up for the first show. The rest of the day was a cycle of doing shows, getting untacked to rest, tacking up again, etc. It was fun, but hard work. During the show, the job of the squires was to hand lances (and anything else needed) to the knights, and to clear the field of dropped or broken lances, helmets, knights or anything else that might get in the way of charging horses. We also had to catch the horses after the knights had fallen off, which wasn’t too hard, as most of them trotted happily to the dais, knowing that they got to rest there. However, everything had to be done at a run, to keep the show running smoothly, and in case one of the horses wasn’t so relaxed. Nothing ever went quite as rehearsed, but nothing went truly, horribly wrong (ie. nobody died during a show). There were only two serious injuries during shows: at one point, two knights improvved in an extra punch, and the fan of the elbow guard of the knight doing the punching ripped the punchee’s cheek. That meant six stitches in the face, a show missed, and his squire had to do all the talking during shows, which was actually hilarious, because it was Nikki who ended up uttering dire threats to the other knights (and doing a damn good job of it too). Unfortunately, the next day, the same knight got his knee guard caught in his reins as he went flying over his horse’s neck, and cut Oscar’s tongue. So, Oscar was out for the last show, but he was already healing up by the end of the day. And those were the only serious injuries during the shows. Cuts, bruises, bumps, near misses and hurt feelings abounded, but those are all soon mended.

We did lose one horse during the run, to Patomic horse fever. Her name was Isabeau, and she was a sweet little thoroughbred, ridden by Troy in the show. We found her the Saturday of Memorial day weekend, looking like she was colicking. Kate, who knows a lot about caring for horses, did what she could and called the vet. I don’t know what all they did, because the terms were all new to me, but I believe they gave her a shot, and posted Nikki (who was Izzy’s squire) to keep her up. Basically, horses’ digestive systems, which are already delicate, don’t work very well when they are lying down; they need the gravity to work. So when a horse is having digestive trouble, you have to keep her standing, while all she wants to do, more than anything, is lie down and roll around to ease the discomfort. Rolling is the worst idea, because the intestines can get tangled. Horses, like babies, colic because they have no forward movement in their digestive systems, no burbing, no barfing. Babies grow out of it as their muscles strengthen, but horses just don’t have that mechanism. Anyways, Nikki kept watch on Izzy, making sure she stayed standing, and making her run around every so often to aide digestion. Izzy showed much improvement by the end of the day, so we assumed it was just colic, and went on with our lives. She didn’t work Sunday, but Monday she was back in the show, seemingly fit as a fiddle. Tuesday afternoon, however, she was lying down and groaning again. Nikki and I took her up to the lawn in front of the house where Kate and Robb were staying, because grass cleans horses’ systems out, and what she needed to do was have a great big poo. Once she got up there, she started trotting around, whinnying for the other horses and farting, which was a good sign, and also a good laugh. So after a few hours, we took her back down again in high hopes. The next morning, however, she was worse. I was eating my breakfast in the tent, when Stephanie, Troy’s girlfriend, came running into camp shouting our names, or for anyone who knew about horses. We all bolted over to the stables and found Izzy lying down and groaning. It was almost impossible to get her to her feet. This time the vet realized that it was patomic horse fever. He put her on an IV, and told us to keep her on her feet at all costs, and change the IV bags every hour. We took turns watching her and changing the bags. It was pretty grim. She was very unhappy. She took to blowing bubbles in her water bucket to express her displeasure, but that was the only funny thing that happened the whole day. By the end, having had 40L of liquid pumped into her, without passing anything at all, we knew her kidneys had failed, and the vet came to put her out of her misery. It was really sad, but the right thing to do. That night we held a royal wake.

On a higher note, I’ll tell you about the weekday events that happen just for the performers and people who live out at the fair. On Mondays, there was Bizarre Bazaar, where anyone who wanted to could set up a booth and sell anything, from massage therapists with their tables, to old clothes from someone’s closet, to a litter of puppies. There was a vegetable booth, and a Thai woman selling food and telling fortunes, alarmingly accurately. Wednesday night was the wine tasting, where everyone brought a bottle, for under $10. The bottles were masked, and everyone expressed their opinions, without any special vintner’s knowledge, with some hilarious result. Then, after everything had been tasted and rated, the rest was consumed, with the absolute losers being saved for when we could no longer taste anything. Then there was the dance party. J On the second to last week, this was a costume party, with this year’s theme being ‘birds of a feather’. Not being able to find anything feathery other than witch hats with feathers on them, Nikki and I went as witches. The best costume (to my mind) was someone who dressed up as Ray, the falconer, and did a remarkable impression of him. But I guess you had to be there.

This summer was an amazing experience, and there are so many more stories to tell, but this is already too long, and I still have three months to write up to bring me to the present. In fact, I am hoping to run off and work for Kate and Robb next year, provided I can find enough work for the year. I would need to buy a car (so if anyone knows of a cheap, but good car, that is on the market or will be between now and June, you would have my undying gratitude), but my parents are being very supportive. It was actually my dad’s idea, originally, something he denies hotly now. In the grander scheme of things, they would rather I get a job with benefits, so that the next time I break something or get really sick (ie. probably next November, seeing as that month seems to be bad for my health), I would be safely provided for. But that dream is definitely along the same lines as wishing Mary would marry a rich business man who would make sure she remembered things, and also provide her with health insurance. Parents can dream, I suppose. J I am incredibly grateful to them for even entertaining this wild idea, which by necessity relies so heavily on their financial (as well as moral) support.

To be continued…

what I forgot to tell you all about from this Spring/early Summer was the course I took at the Globe. On the one hand, it was really cool (I mean, I was studying Shakespeare at the Globe theatre in London, for goodness sake), but on the other, it was disappointing. I was actually one of only three people out of 18-20 who had *any* theater experience, and I probably had the most. The class was thus pretty academic, which was highly frustrating: I wanted to learn how to do the techniques we were talking about, not just... talk about them. Also, and this is entirely me just being a snob, but the class was made up of American study abroad students (it's intended just for us), from a lot of different universities, and the discussions were... anything but stimulating. Some of the comments were so banal, they drove me a little batty. but, judge not lest ye be judged and all that. And for all the academic tone of the lectures, the other students whined from beginning to end about how we had to act (heaven forbid! in a theater class! oh noes!) in scenes from Romeo and Juliet, the play then on at the Globe, and hence, what we were studying (the attentive reader will note that this meant I was working with that play for roughly six months). I on the other hand loved working on those scenes. We were divided into small groups and worked with a professional actor to prepare for a performance-just for ourselves-at the end of the course. It was the first acting I'd done in years, and reminded me why I love it. I
also learned for the first time how to find the stresses in Shakespeare, which makes it make infinitely more sense, and sound more natural.
We went as a group to see Romeo and Juliet, twice, once from the gallery, once from the yard. The yard is much to be prefered: tickets are cheaper, and if you don't mind queuing up and then being a bit forceful to get a good spot, you can end up leaning against the stage, sometimes having to lean back not to get stepped on by the actors. This is much more interactive than regular theater, and there's no danger of dozing off, even for the most weary audience-member. I also got to experience the yard in the rain, which was less ideal, but still preferable to the hard (albeit dry) benches in the gallery. Meagan and I went to see The Frontline, a contemporary play set in one of the grittier parts of south London, written for the Globe. It was interesting to see how they used the space, and how the structure of the play mirrored that of a Shakespeare. The subject matter was dark though (drugs, sex and drug related murders), and all the excellent choreography and witty dialogue couldn't make it truly enjoyable in the lightest sense of the word. Also, the sky poured absolute buckets of water on all of us for the first act, at which point we were all so thoroughly soaked that it didn't matter that it stopped for the second.
Anyways, after all that excitement, I came home to Michigan. I only had a week to unpack, before we were off to the family vacation in Georgian Bay. Kate joined us for the whole week this year (hurrah!), and brought up her new little boat, the Minnow. The week started out a little
gloomy, with rain and cold not discouraging the small rodent-sized mosquitoes that swarmed if we so much as put a toe outdoors, and not much wind. But the wind picked up, so we got in a fair bit of fine sailing (almost made it out to open water, which is always my goal). On the last day it was *too* windy, though, and it was all I could do to wrestle the Wildcat across the bay. Mary and Kate in the Minnow actually capsized, and were resued by some kind people in a motor boat. No injuries or losses except Kate's waterbottle and Mary's pump, which filled with water and sloshed in ways it wasn't supposed to. However, the pump company came to the rescue, and had a new one to her within 24 hours, delivering it to us on Saturday evening, July 4th. We were impressed.
Shortly after our return to Michigan, I moved into my new apartment in Chicago. It's great! Long and narrow, like most apartments in Hyde Park, it occupies half of the second floor of the building. Previous tenants painted the whole place in various attractive shades (the hall is sage green, my room is a dusty blue), except the living room, which was a dark fuschia. yuck! So Toby (one of my three flat mates) spent part of her summer repainting it with great care: two coats of primer, two of a golden yellow, and now it's a warm, light room, not claustrophobic with dark walls. She and I bought a TV table, so we can use the pre-existing dining table for eating! We also got a nice table for our porch, and got rid of the detritus littering the flat and porch a like, and now everything is neat and usable. In my free time, I scrubbed the kitchen surfaces, which were sticky with the grime of generations of students, and reorganized the cupboards so that things could be found (to quote Kailin, one of my other flat mates, 'It all makes sense now! what a concept!'). We have a built in glass fronted side board in the living room, and that's where I'm keeping the lovely set of china that Kate gave me for my birthday. We all think it makes us look like real people. I also reorganized the pantry, so we each have a shelf, and there's a communal shelf, and no food on the floor, and you can walk in, and find everything, and it's great. Kailin pointed out that the cockroach frequency has been deminishing ever since I started my cleaning rampage. hurrah!
Most excitingly, we have our own dishwasher, clothes washer, and dryer!!! no more saving quarters for me, or not wanting to spend $3 to run a separate cold delicates load! there is much rejoicing.
My room is small, but I've gotten everything to fit nicely, and the size is much recompensed by my having my own full bathroom. this does much, I think, for my sanity, and probably the peace of the apartment. :) Anyways, the apartment is very comfortable, and Kailin, Toby, and I get along really well. We haven't met the fourth person yet, but here's to hoping she fits in.
I came back to Michigan for the Ionia Free Fair in July. That's the county fair that my family has been participating in for ages. I took some cookies, cakes and pies, an oil painting, and my dad and I (with some help from my mum and sister) built a floral display. That is something I've only seen at the Ionia fair: participants are given a plot of grass, about 3ft square, and have to create a display. We've always done the 'Storybook' class, which gives us a clear story to depict. In the past we've done Peter Rabbit, Harry Potter, The Hobbit, and other such winners. This year we did The Secret Garden. We always make almost all of the props, and build, if I do say so myself, a pretty convincing scene from the story. In this case, my dad and I made a brick wall, with a neat marigold bordered path and vegetable garden on one side, and a rose filled 'wild garden' on the other. I made a door, and a wheel chair for the doll playing Colin, and we had dolls playing Dickon and Mary as well. Altogether great, to my mind, with creative use of flowers, but we lost to Duck on a Bike, apparently a thin paperback released by Scholastic, with little or no literary value. The display reflected this: there was a stuffed duck, on a bike, surrounded by potted plants that had no relevance to the display. bitter much? a bit, yes, considering the effort we put into ours. The woman who runs the floral display said that the judge is a florist, who likes 'big things'. like ducks on bikes, apparently. However, my dad and I cleaned up in the baking, taking several prizes each.
Then it was back to Chicago, and my job at the librarary, not worth dwelling on. I shelve books. nuff said.
And now, I am preparing to go live at the Michigan Renaissance Festival to work with the jousters there. This is my first year working this particular job, or living out there, but I have worked at MRF for six or seven years, not counting the many years I went as a child while my parents danced with the Scottish Country dancing team. I'm super excited. I found a big tent on craigslist, so no living in a Eureka four-man for six weeks! I also bought a camp cot to sleep on. luxuries galore! During the week, I will be getting to ride every day, and on the weekend, I will tack up the horses, pick up weapons, and generally be your architypal squire. I'm getting payed to play with horses and wear awesome clothes! score! Anyways, I'm sure I'll have lots to tell, and lots of pictures. Also there are unposted pics from England and this summer, but that'll have to wait til I get back to Chicago.
Until then!

back on the American side of the pond...

Despite all best resolutions, it has been seven months since I last posted. But seven months absolutely *packed*, I assure you.
Let's see, when I last left you, I was shivering in three sweaters, four pairs of wool socks, a hat and piles of blankets. The heating in my building continued to be non-existant for another three or four weeks, and the hot water cut out completely at times. However, once the office people returned, they gave us space heaters, so I warmed up. I also survived my exams. Actually, since I got my results a few weeks ago, I now know that I not only survived, I came through with flying colours. I got firsts (A's) for all of my classes! The hard work really paid off (and I did work really hard).
Of course, as soon as exams were over, new classes started, and it was back to work. I also choreographed the fights for a truly excellent production of Romeo and Juliet with the King's Players. I had a great experience renting rapiers from a very nice company called Hands On. They're based in Glasgow, but if you're looking for props or stunt gear, esp in England, rent from them. They put up with my uncertainty as to whether we would have money for rapiers, and supplied them last minute when, two weeks before we needed them, I found out for certain that we could afford the swords. And then Hands On threw in hangers for free.
That free advertising aside, somehow even without a job (all my applications were in vain), the Spring term managed to be busier than the Fall! Orchestra continued. Socially, I felt very uncomfortable--the music students were very clicky--but musically it was wonderful.
For my birthday, my Halls friends and I went to the pub, and I had a big dinner party for my St. Martin's friends. Which pretty accurately depicts the difference in importance of the two groups for me. :) The dinner was wonderful. Cathy hosted, as ten people would have been hard put to squeeze into my room. I cooked though, starting with bread and my favorite 'stichelton' cheese, a stilton type. Then there was a rich, creamy chestnut soup, followed by coq-a-vin. Dessert was cranberry sorbet (also homemade--sorbets are ridiculously easy and yet impressive), with shortbread. The food was a huge hit, and I loved making all of it and watching my friends eat with gusto. The company was unparalleled. We had witty, interesting conversation throughout the whole evening, no one felt left out or awkward. Altogether a wonderful evening. I love entertaining!
Jacky came to visit me, which was really fun. We went out the first night, but mostly I had to be anti-social and make her explore on her own, or with the other friends she had in London. Busy, as I said.
During reading week, I fled the city, desparate for some country air. I took the train to Exmouth in Devon, and hiked about ten miles along the World Heritage site coastline. It was a beautiful walk, and I had it mostly to myself. I stopped for the Wessel Walker-traditional ice cream in Budleigh Salterton, and then turned inland to catch the bus back to Exmouth. By this time I was ravenous, my picnic lunch being long gone, and some people I asked for directions suggested I try the Mill restaurant in Otterton (where the bus stopped). Otterton turned out to be a tiny, one street town of whitewashed, thatched cottages (aaah the old world!). An elderly gentlemen stopped me to chat in a completely unthreatening fashion, and pointed me to the Mill, the only large building around (except the church). It turned out to have a small art galery (which I sadly didn't have time to explore), and to be big into local/organic food. It felt like it belonged in Ann Arbor, if you know what I mean. Unfortunately, they had a minimum charge of £10 for cards, so I scrabbled around in my purse for cash, and was able to afford toasted tea cake with butter (delish!). However, witnessing my predicament, the waiter brought me tea anyways, which was really kind. At this point, I realized that I also would need cash for the bus... and Otterton had no bank or cash machine. Panic! At this point, though, the whole cafe was in on the problem, since I'd asked about a cash machine, and one couple offered to drive me to Exmouth, and a family offered to pay my fare on the bus. I decided to go with that offer, not that I mistrusted the couple who would have driven me, but the bus seemed like less of an imposition. The family was really nice, and just told me to pay it forward. They said they had been in similar situations before, and had been helped out similarly. My overall feeling at the end of this day trip was of the incredible kindness the human race is capable of when it wants to be. Pictures of the red cliffs of Devon are here.
Later in the Spring, Mary came to visit me, and her other British friends. She spent some time being more or less ignored by me in London, as R and J went up at the same time, and then we went to the farm she worked on in Wales. Gorgeous! I love Wales: the hills, gently rolling into craggy tops, the farms scratched on the surface (making life difficult but picturesque), and the common above Tireithen (the farm), with it's semi-wild white ponies, and standing stones. Pictures of that trip are here.
Mary's visit overlapped by a day or so with my parents, who came shortly before Easter. We went to St. Martin's for Palm Sunday, of course, and got to process around Trafalgar Square with a real live donkey! Mama loved that creature. :) The tourists goggled at the sight of a long train of well dressed people of all ages meandering around this busy center, singing along to the Salvation Army band. What fun! This was perhaps the closest I have gotten to feeling like the first Palm Sunday...
We also went to Oxford with John, to see my mum's old college, St. Anne's. We poked around the campus, and then went to the Bird and Baby (Eagle and Child), famous for being the meeting place of the Inklings (JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, Charles Williams, etc). There's even a handwritten note from the Inklings, declaring that the host of the pub was a 'jolly good fellow', and signed by the members. The signeture in careful uncial script was not, surprisingly, JRR Tolkien's, but that of his son Christopher. In retrospect, perhaps that's not so surprising (for the uninitiated, Christopher was the one who has tirelessly organized his father's notes into publishable form, in The Silmarillion, The Unfinished Tales, and the multiple other volumes of Middle Earth's history now available).
During Holy Week, the APs and I hiked a portion of the Pilgrim Trail. We spent a few days in Salisbury, and then walked, over the course of three days, to Winchester. It was a beautiful hike, and we stayed in lovely, luxurious bed and breakfasts each night. That's my kind of hiking! A strenuous day, but ending in a shower, hot meal, pint of ale, and a soft bed. The last day was a bit wet, but other than that the weather treated us very well. In fact, while this past winter was one of the coldest London has seen in a while (the three inches of snow that shut the metropolis down was the most they'd had in *18 years*), this Spring was one of the warmest and sunniest. Pics to come.
We were back in London for Easter. Louise was baptised at the 5am vigil, and as I was sponsering her, duly to St Martin's I went at 5am... a trolling taxi driver seeing me change from my walking shoes into my heels assumed I was tottering home from a night on the town, not tottering out to church after an early night in. :) It was a nice service, begun in the total dark. The readers (of whom I was one) had flashlights, but everyone else sat in darkness. Then we went out to the porch to light the Easter flame. I think this would have been cooler if it hadn't been cloudy, as St Martin's (like all other English churches) faces East, and the rising sun would have shone gloriously into the sanctuary through the big window. However, festivities didn't end with the service: we all trailed down to the parish hall for breakfast, and after that was tidied up, the survivors went for a walk around St James' Park. Then we toddled up to the rector's flat (the top floor in the building just next to St M's, the lucky beasts), for more yummies. Rev. Nick had access to the roof, so those so inclined could go up and get a Mary Poppins view of the city, complete with chimney pots and whispy fog. We were just below Nelson himself! Then the bells rang, right next to us, and it was back to church for the more riotous (and crowded) 10am service. And after that my family went to a pub with John, Natasha and Sasha for a Sunday roast/Easter dinner.
On Monday, before they left, I roasted a chicken for the whole family again, with some veggies on the side, and delicate mousse filled chocolate cups-fussy, but worth it. The meal was a success, but Alexander's reaction to my dorm was similar to mine, and less contained. (ie. he screamed much of the time he was there).
Once my parents had left, I had to buckle down, as exams were looming ominously near. I had two weeks to get it all done, so I continued my Lenten discipline of going to Morning Prayer, and would go straight from there to the library, there to remain until the need for dinner would drive me home. However unpleasant it was to squander the beautiful weather in a dusty nook of the library, this paid off, and once again, I did very well on my exams. and then I was free, with over a month left in London!
For Natasha's birthday, we all went on a hike, somewhere near Aylesbury, and that was great fun, just a group of girls striding through the hills. we played a game where Natasha taped names to our backs and we had to ask questions of the others to figure out who we were. we watched clouds, lying on our backs on a hillside, and Natasha sang us a song that she had written about all of us (someday, when she is deservedly famous, I'll get to say 'I knew her when' and have proof...), and I taught Anne a little hand-to-hand fighting. That last was by a monument on a hill with rather a few startled/concerned onlookers. We might have gotten into trouble for fighting, if we hadn't been laughing our heads off the whole time. The day ended with delicious chocolates in a cafe. Pictures of all this to come!
I went back to Salzburg again, this time for a little longer. Gertraud took me up a mountain with the Seilbahn (cable car), and we wandered around the top for a few hours. Her young nephews, who had come with us, leapt about like mountain goats, while I eased myself anxiously over rocks and down the hills. We even had a snowball fight in a patch of lingering snow! The now very pregnant Maria and I went for a quiet walk in the woods by her house one day. I spent part of the weekend with her parents, and got to go for a ride in the car that her father built. It's a little open, low riding thing they call the buggy, and can only go 100km/h, but since it has no roof, this feels really fast. Georg (Maria's brother) drove me all the way to Salzburg (about half an hour's drive from their village), and on the way back it started to pour, and then hail, so we took shelter in a gas station. That was pretty funny, although perhaps less actual fun. :) Maria's parents took me and Katherina riding, when they realized that I love it so much. The instructer's thick Vienese accent gave me trouble, and she thought I was stupid until I started riding... I showed her, as they say. Although I did have trouble when it came to cantering-used to tough, stubborn cobs, I gave my poor horse a great whack with my heels, and kept the pressure on, only to haul back on the reigns when he flew around the arena at a full gallop, much faster than I wanted him to. Eventually, we figured out the problem, and slowed down to a more reasonable pace. After riding, we went to a Tierparadise, a place where rescued animals go to spend the rest of their days in bliss and laziness. Once back with Maria, she and Ursula and I went to the lake for wading in the sun. Pictures!
I went to Athens for the first time this Spring. I met up with Corrin, who graduated early from the UofC so that she could do a semester at a university in Germany for no credit, before going on to do a PhD at Columbia... she's crazy, but I like her anyways. :) The first day, after meeting at the the airport, we just went to the Temple of Zeus and spent the afternoon catching up. For dinner, the UofC students who were doing a quarter abroad there showed us a lovely little restaurant so quintessentially greek. It was run by one man, who did the waiting and most of the cooking (I believe his wife was in the kitchen as well). There was no menu, he just told us what he had on that evening. The food was amazing! and cheap. he gave us dessert for free as well. Corrin and I ate gyros for lunch most days, which were well worth the calories. On the second day we went up to the Parthenon with our hostess (a friend of Corrin's) and her sister. It was pretty awe inspiring. We looked around at other ruins as well, but at a certain point, one Greco-Roman ruin looks the same as any other, and the heat, even in May, was blistering. So Corrin and I spent a day on the beach at Aegina, one of the islands around Athens. I had squid so fresh, it had probably be swimming that morning, and Corrin ate a similarly fresh fish. it was delish! the sea was warm, and impossibly blue, mirroring the bright bowl of the sky, but the breeze off the water was cool, so it didn't get too hot. 50spf sunblock liberally applied kept me more or less tanned rather than burned. The broad hat and comfortable sandles I bought for the trip also turned out to be the best sartorial purchases I have ever made. Altogether, it was a delightful trip, but I think Athens is the sort of place that is exciting to live, but I wouldn't want to live there.
London, on the other hand... I loved living there. It was with great difficulty that I tore myself away from weekly trips to Borough Market for my groceries, rides on Wimbledon Common (to which I returned as soon as the doctor's commanded two months was up), my friends at St Martin's-not to mention the church itself- and King's, from walks along the Thames, and the ease of transportation with TFL... the list could go on. But tear myself away I did, and now I am back here, where there are many things to delight as well. More on that later, as I think this post is too long already (I'm certainly tired of it, and am sure you must be as well).

I wish you all a good slip into the New Year!

No, I didn't fall down again, which is probably a good thing, in the not-fracturing-my-spine-again line of action. That is a direct translation of a German idiom: 'Ich wunsch euch ein guten Rutsch ins Neujahr!' I love the German way of putting things, like saying 'Ich hab kein Bock' which literally means 'I have no goat', but means that you don't feel like doing something.Anyways, I will get on to what you've all been waiting for... hopefully not with baited breath. ;) News, at least of the Margaretical sort! Once again it has been ages since I posted.
Most importantly, my recovery has gone entirely as planned. It has been just about two months since my injury, which is how long the doctors said it would take to heal. That, combined with the fact that, except for the occasional twinge, I'm not in excruciating pain anymore, is enough for me. I am (finally) getting back on a horse next Thursday!! My sister Kate, who inspired and encouraged me to start riding seriously, is visiting, and we're going on a hack together. I cannot wait. Then I'm taking a week off for exams, before starting regular lessons again.
But let's not get ahead of ourselves. When I left you, I was in the midst of midterms, and the theater was just gearing up. I'll start with that.
I did the fight choriography and training for an evening of Woody Allen plays, God, Death, Sex(earning major hardcore points with the cast for training them despite the injuries). I also did make-up and helped with props and costumes. While the time commitment was nothing to University Theater, the organization was proportionally worse for wear, so things got really hectic towards the end. Never thought I'd miss prod staff meetings! But it was fun, and the actors were so polite! that was a real shocker. :)
I went to Paris to visit Caro and Sarah for a weekend, which was awesome. The travel was a bit epic. My alarm didn't go off (or I slept through it, which very rarely happens), so I missed the only bus that would get to St Pancras by 5am, in order to catch my Eurostar train at 5:30. The taxis were remarkably unhelpful, and ofcourse, the tube doesn't run at that hour. I slunk into St Pancras at 5:15, which was too late for that train, but by some miracle, the Eurostar people gave me a free ticket for the next train, even though I had the cheap, non refundable, non exchangeable student ticket. So I was safely on a train to Paris. However, Caro had arranged to meet me... at the time the first train was due. Being clever, clever children, we had not thought to exchange phone numbers. So I contacted all my friends who I thought might be remotely awake at that hour. El got back to me, and I gave her my login info for facebook so she could send a note to Caro. which, sadly, Caro did not get, until she had waited in Paris Nord for several hours. She left at 10:30. I arrived at 10:40. Not even kidding. Just like in the movies, only Caro and I aren't lovers. ;) Anyways, panicking, I found a dodgy internet cafe, where some guy tried to pick me up, but I didn't understand what he was saying, because my en peu Francais does not include pick up lines. I got online, and again, by the grace of God, managed to get in touch with Caro, who had gone home. She came back in to get me, and all was well. Except that the heroic Caro had something between bronchitis and death, and I had a fractured spine. That afternoon, I went to the Louvre, and wandered around it's labyrinthine passages, filled with images I'd studied, and almost couldn't believe I was really seeing. My favorite part was the historical rooms though. Of course, I imagined sweeping through them in (naturally period appropriate) grand gowns, and mentally bemoaned this age of ratty jeans and loose tops. We are expected to fulfill an image much like that held up to women of all historical eras (at least western), without the aids they had, of corsets and ruffles, and crinolines. Obviously, we are freer for that, and have many more options, but could we drop the unfair physical ideal too, please? And I have to admit, I find women's clothing of pre-1920 to be far more beautiful than the stuff we slouch around in.
But I digress. I met up with Sarah and her friend Caroline in the Louvre, before tottering home to get Caro. We all went out to a bar for a while, and were the loud group of Americans, before tottering home again to collapse. On Saturday, I went to the catacombs, which are amazing, if a bit macabre. I recommend them as a slightly off the beaten track, but really cool, thing to see in Paris. In the afternoon, Caro and I nearly froze to death going up the Eiffel Tower. We completely failed twice in trying to get into the line for the stairs, but realizing the second time around that we were just in line for a different elevator, we decided that, our health considered, this was probably a good thing. We made it to the top, enjoyed the view briefly, and sprinted down the stairs, fleeing the cold and the other tourists. It was cool though, because by the time we got to the top, it was dark, and we got a view of the lights of Pari'. Went out again that night with the gang, this time to a place where we were not the loudest. Sunday, I braved the freezing pouring rain to see Notre Dame, which is gorgeous. I was upset by the other tourists though, who had no respect for the holy space. I understand that people come to see the architecture for whom the cathedral is not holy. However, I have been to many churches all over Europe, some of almost equal fame to Notre Dame, and this was the first time that I really felt I could not pray because of the rudeness of the people around me. Is it not possible to have respect for something that is special to other people, even if it means nothing to you? well, I survived. I was much restored by going to Sainte-Chapelle, a hidden gem of almost unparallelled importance in medieval art history. Its architecture is truly revolutionary for its time, with the walls being almoste entirely glass. I went (sadly) on a cloudy day, but the intricacies of the detail of the interior were still worth it. There are two levels, the downstairs, for the servants and lesser nobility, and upstairs for the king and other royalty. Both are stunning. Please, do not go to Paris without seeing Sainte-Chapelle. I was also really pleased with myself for being able to order coffee and a crepe from a cafe in French that was good enough that the waiter deigned to speak French, rather than scornful English. I also managed to successfully ask for directions, although I didn't really understand the answer, which sort of defeated the purpose.
My return to London early Monday morning was uneventful.
At that point, I decided it would be good to try to get a job again, before/during the holiday season, when everyone needs help, rather than waiting til January, when people are being laid off, not hired. I had no trouble, in fact, the fourth place I asked hired me on the spot. I told them about my planned trip to Austria (more on that later), and the limitations of my time by school and visa, but they wanted me anyways. They were closing at the end of December, and just needed me for a month, but I figured it was better than nothing. Boy, was I ever wrong! First off, I had to work 20hrs a week for those first few weeks, and while they were somewhat accommodating of my schedule, I had to promise that after I got back from Austria, I could work more hours (illegally). Also, keep in mind that I was still going to lectures, keeping on top of my work, and spending a significant amount of time at the theater. It was really quite rough. The atmosphere was unpleasant, with snobby, rude tourists and rich people comprising the patrons, and the waiters mirroring that rudeness. I was a hostess, just responsible for seating people, making sure that reservations had tables, but that we maximized the space available. I was good at it too, and at convincing people to take tables they might otherwise not have taken, for example, outside under the heaters, thus getting more people in. Gosh, the wonders of being polite. Anyways, that's all I'm going to say about that job. It was by far the worst job I have ever had. Including Kang's.
In the mean time, we had the orchestra concert, which involved a seven hour rehearsal the Saturday before. Intense, but worth it. The concert went well. Some of us also went ice skating at Somerset house later in the week for a social, which was really fun. Caro visited for a few hectic days, and entertained herself, before dashing off to Spain. At this point, the play went up, and just about went crazy.
But on Thursday, I flew to Wien, and spent a few hours wandering around before taking the train to Salzburg to be met by Maria and her friend Gertraud! I had a wonderful, restful weekend staying with Maria and her boyfriend and his family. They live on a farm outside a small village, Sankt Wolfgang, in the mountains above Salzburg. Absolutely beautiful. As Mama says, I could definitely suffer for the Lord there! And der Familie des Freund Marias (gotta love German... that would have been so much more unwieldy in English) is absolutely lovely. Maria and I went to the Salzburger Christkindlmarkt, and also to Hotel Sacher, where the world famous Sacher Torte originates. We shared a coffee and a slice of cake, because it was a bit expensive for our student budgets. The next day, Andi (der Freund)'s mother took me to see the Krippenspiel, which is a nativity play. The children spoke with such thick Austrian accents, that I was completely lost. But it was cute, and the folk music was pretty. On Sunday, we all went to 8am mass, again in dialect too thick for me, and then I took a nap before joining Maria at the fish stall at the Wolfganerseeadventsmarkt. Oh, I forgot to mention that by this point, the minor cold I'd had for about two weeks had worsened, so I was really sick. But I loved the little Christmas market, which wound its way through the entire village of Sankt Wolfgang. Maria had to work her fish stall, but I wandered around, before being joined by Maria's father, brother, sister's boyfriend, and my favorite 11yo in the world, her younger sister, Katherina. We had a great time hanging out drinking, respectively, gluehwein and Kinderpunsch and nasching. they even got me to try a fish sandwich, which was pretty tasty, considering it was fish. ;) The next day, Maria drove me to the train station, and I took the train to Muenchen, from there to Frankfurt, and Frankfurt to Brussels. There I had planned to wander around for a few hours, but I had not reackoned on the dark, and on being really ill, so instead I huddled miserably in the Brussels train station, trying hard not to cry, until finally, my Eurostar was ready to depart for London. However, the trans-Europe train trip was totally worth it. Not really more expensive than the flights, it was much more comfortable and enjoyable, and I saw so much beautiful country.
When I arrived in London, I went straight to the restaurant to tell them I wouldn't be working in the morning, and to show them how sick I was. Also, my parents had brought me to see the light, and I didn't want to work more than my visa allowed, namely twenty hours, not the thirty I had reluctantly agreed to. However, the manager that night said that I still had to come in the next day to talk to the ueber-manager, thus defeating the purpose of coming in at all that night. I did look at the rota however, and discovered that I had been assigned not twenty, not thirty, but FORTY-SIX hours that week. Which meant I was working some twelve hour shifts. Did I mention that we didn't get breaks? Yeah, so the next morning I went in, not to say I wasn't staying that day, but to quit. For the first time in my life. Evil manager gave me hell about it, but I finally shrugged, said whatever, and stalked off as haughtily as I could muster.
I spent the rest of that week mostly sleeping, and thus managed to recover my health and my equilibrium. Never have I been so at peace with such a drastic decision, even now as I watch the last pence bleed out of my bank account (no worries, help is on the way. theoretically, the restaurant still owes me money, and I get an allowance. I won't starve.). My experience really put into sharp perspective what I want from a job. I do need to get one, but I need to have higher standards. I want to be able to work 10 hours a week and not be pressured to work more (I will eventually give in, under enough pressure). I would like to not work in hospitality for a while, so as not to have to deal with the festering turds that are humans on vacation, otherwise known as tourists. Ok, that's unfair, but some of them can be really awful. Ideally, in my dreamiest of dreams, I would be able to get a job at St. Martin's, as office minion if I have to, but getting paid. I wanted to give them a break after Christmas before asking, but hopefully, miraculously, they will have something. Please keep this situation in your thoughts and prayers. Alternatively, if you know of a job such as I've described, preferably church related, in London, do let me know! :)
I spent the week of Christmas with my friend Amber and her family in Reading. Her mum directs the choir, so I got to sing with them. This made a huge difference, helping me ward off homesickness better. We sang the 9 Lessons and Carols on Sunday, Midnight mass on Christmas eve, and Christmas Day service. I also played cello in the band at the crib service for the kids on Christmas Eve. I ate a ridiculous amount of delish food, and was welcomed into the family completely. It was wonderful. Obviously, homesickness still lurked gloomily in the corners, but we can't have everything. And I got to have two present days, because the Nunns showered me with gifts, and then my box from home was waiting when I got back to London.
Amber and her friends came down to London for New Year's Eve, which was awesome. We partied a bit in halls, before hitting the streets, intending to go to the Student Union club, Tutu's. But we hadn't reckoned with the crowds, and we didn't make it. So instead we watched the fireworks from 100 yards behind the London Eye. Yup, that's right folks, I was there. That moment they showed on TV while waiting for the ball to drop in New York, of midnight around the world. I'm sure they showed London, with the amazing fireworks show off of the Eye. I was in that screaming crowd at it's foot, making my only new resolution: to learn how to make fireworks. Then we were amongst the first to surge, or rather wobble across the newly opened Waterloo bridge, and make our way up to Tutu's. There we partied with some 600 other people, dancing until early in the morning, when my old ladiness kicked in, and I had to go home to bed. That ranks pretty high amongst the best NYE celebrations I have ever had.
My room is bright with Christmas cards and decorations, and my two new calendars. However, it is also freezing, almost literally, because my heater is not working, and my window is drafty. Thank God it doesn't get as cold here as it does in Chicago. Also, the hot water is being dodgy, in and out all week. Not fun.
In upcoming events, I'm cooking dinner for Kate, John, and Natasha, and will finally get to meet my nephew on Tuesday. Hurrah!
Less happily, exams approach like a freight train running loose down a mountain. I'm doing my best to prepare, but I'm a bit terrified, to be honest. So a few prayers there wouldn't hurt either. ;) I hope you all are well, and I wish you a blessed and wonderful 2009.

and now for your latest weekly catastrophe

...at least, that's how it's felt for me for the past few weeks. As many of you, my dearly beloved readers, are also on facebook, you may have noticed that I lost my job and fractured my spine in quick succession. Altogether, it has not been a fantastic few weeks, to say the least. Here's the longer version of the story:
Two weeks ago, I went into work, and was informed that my manager was getting in trouble for how much he was spending on payroll. Now, this is ridiculous, because we never had too many people, at least not on the shifts that I worked. Sadly, as previous experience has taught me, the people up there who do not have to do the extra work caused by under-staffing never seem to care how many people are actually needed, and it is the easiest budget cut. Of course, I, as the newest, and I believe only part time person was the obvious choice to go. Thus, I lost the first job that I have ever liked. To replace that job is not just to replace the income, but to try to find somewhere nearly as enjoyable. I will probably have to make do, sadly.
At anyrate, as midterms were bearing down on me, I decided to put off looking for a new job. I have enough money to get me to December on a reasonable budget, and while I'd like to have a bit more security, it's nice to know I don't have to panic.
Which is a good thing, because a week later (last week), I got thrown during my riding lesson. We were trotting home from the arena, I was chatting to one of the others and not paying particular attention. I lost my left stirrup, and as I maneuvered to get it back, Jacques, the horse I was on, spooked. I'm not entirely sure what he did, but it resulted in me lying in the ditch trying to breathe and figure out the damage. After a few minutes I was able to get up though, and despite excruciating pain, decided to get back on, to minimize fuss and reassure myself at my own ability to ride (it had been a particularly bad lesson as well). I made it back home, and on the advice of another rider, an emergency room doctor, took paracetamol and codeine and iced my throbbing back. Even though none of this seemed to help, I continued in my general policy of making light of these things. It usually feels better that way, at least emotionally. Plus, I figured at worst, I'd done some muscle damage. However, when the pain had not abated on Sunday, I decided to go in to the hospital, primarily, in some ways, to reassure my less complacent (and hence more intelligent) friends. After the usual several hour wait in the emergency room, a doctor poked my back and took some x-rays, which showed, much to my chagrin, that I had fractured at least two vertebrae. whoops. I sat around for another hour before the orthopedic doctors came and saw me. They gave me the option of going home, but said I really oughtn't to, as, not knowing the extent of the injury, and supposing it to be unstable, any wrong movement could paralyse me. Also, going home would have meant a week long wait for a CT scan. So, I acquiesced to staying, and was condemned to complete bed rest. It took a while for me to realize what that meant, namely, no getting up, no getting down, no goofing around, to quote my mother, for any reason. I was to stay prone, sitting up to no more than 45deg. And yes, that meant bed pans. What a lesson in humility! Also, for someone who does her best to be self sufficient, being completely reliant on others to bring things was frustrating and embarassing. I survived however, and had a CT scan in the morning. The results came in the late afternoon, saying that I hadn't damaged the bone around the spinal column, so I was free to move around. Joy! It took another four hours for them to get the pain meds for me and discharge me, but then I was allowed to go home, on the strict injunction not to go to lectures this week and not to ride for two months.
The heroes of this story are Becky, who not only waited for 4 hours in the emergency room with me on Sunday, but also came back to bring me necessities later that evening, and spent another four hours or more waiting with me for my discharge on Monday, to walk me home. Hannah brought me chocolate, mineral water and coke, and spent several hours entertaining me on Monday. She has also been the most regular visitor in my less restrictive home bed rest, along with Mary. Georgia helped with bringing my stuff over on Sunday, and waited while they remembered where they'd left me. Lisbeth spent several hours visiting me in the hospital on Monday, brought me two large gooey delicious cookies, and helped me bake an apple pie on Tuesday, before my poor apples gave up the ghost. and made applesauce with the remaining apples. Thank you sooo much, guys!
I think it is only just starting to sink in, just how close I came to seriously and permanently damaging myself. Now, for a sensible person, this would mean that I would consider dropping some of my more dangerous activities, but I can't wait to get back on a horse. That's the other thing I'm just realizing... how bleak the next two months will be without riding. My finances will be happier for it though.
The rest of my life is quite dull in comparison. schoolwork continues. I did a bunch of extra reading over reading week and this week of my convalescence. I have recently been battling with the monster of academic bureaucracy over getting an extension, which is much more complicated than in the States. sigh.
In good news, I have found a real spiritual home in St Martin's in the Fields. It is the friendliest parish that I have ever been to, and the service, with it's old fashioned hymns, and activist, liberal-leaning sermons, is exactly what I look for. I have joined the 'Twirties' (twenties and thirties) group, and the choir director has agreed to lend me a hymnal with music (most just have words). Every Sunday, several people have come up and introduced themselves and welcomed me. Last Sunday, two women even took me out to lunch, as I had no money on me at the time! So kind of them.
Anyways, despite the catastrophes, the past few weeks have been great! Hopefully they will continue so, only sans catastrophe. :)