Bill Bryson and Some Beer

Excuse me if I fall asleep halfway through this post. Not because I find myself boring or the writing of my ever so popular blog tedious in any way, in fact I'm simply updating because I thought it would be a lovely break from worrying about papers, research deadlines, oh you know, the usual. Also because I've been reading Bill Bryson and how could one not feel the stirrings of inspiration after reading his entertaining adventures? I'll leave you in suspense no longer and enlighten you as to why I am so tired.

It happens that I went on a pub outing last night with some lovely English lads, Martin, Liam and Matt, with the full knowledge that I had a seminar at 9:15 this morning. To be fair, it was my idea that we went on this jaunt, the reason being the recent introduction of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale on draught at Pivo, a world beer free house in town. We had a leisurely stroll through the English mist into town stopping off at the Rose & Crown on Hull road and the Five Lions on Walmgate before reaching my Mecca, only to be slapped in the face by a sign stating "Sorry, Sold Out!" hanging mockingly on the SN tap. Well, I’ll say! After boasting all evening, all year in fact, about the greatness that is the only real American ale worth drinking, to be thwarted by a little sign! Well I had a word with the bar tender to find that it was immensely popular (well of course it is!) and that they would be getting more on Friday. Instead I tried a very interesting German beer that when I asked was described as a "grown up's beer." Well after making a fuss about the lack of Pale Ale and putting on that I was an expert on the merits of beer I couldn't turn away from the "Grown Ups" even though there was a very tasty looking cherry lager right next to it. Good to try but probably won't be getting it again especially now that Martin has determindly decided that it smells like sausages. Looks like I’ll be going back to Pivo this weekend though to try for a third time to get my beloved SN. Still had a good time out with the lads discussing beer, overused phrases and the wonder that is the many regional accents of the UK. Fun comes at a price and mine was a severe lack of sleep and a spread of lectures/seminars until 5:15 but I’m young, I can sleep later.

Have been keeping busy the last few weeks and can’t believe it’s nearing March, where does the time go? We had, what I believe to be, our last snowfall of the year last Thursday. There was enough on the ground for some ambitious Alcuinites* to construct an igloo, two life size snow people and a polar bear in the quad. They definitely put Julio to shame. It only took a couple days for the snow to disappear and be replaced by lovely spring like weather. Mid 40s, I wore shorts while doing my laundry. It was great. I love the snow and it was fun while it lasted but I’m thoroughly ready for spring, especially now that the daylight is lingering a wee bit longer.

Of course last Saturday was Valentine’s Day. Not wanting a holiday to pass us by unnoticed my flat mates Ellen, Martin and I put together a highly atmospheric evening for ourselves. The kitchen was magically transformed into a Parisian café complete with French music from the 40’s and candles as our only source of light. About half way through our meal we realized we could have easily been in wartime Britain or France, which added another fun element to the evening. Ellen and I prepared the dinner of ranch chicken and heart shaped potato cakes while Martin provided the decadent chocolate cake from Marks & Spencer. He also played the perfect gentleman acting as our waiter and giving each of us a red rose, how sweet. I also got some fun packages from home containing sweets, movies, a very lovely pair of earrings (thank you grandma) and one of my favorite shirts that my mom was thoughtful enough to spray with my coach perfume so that now I sporadically find myself standing by my wardrobe with my nose in my shirt trying to soak up as much of the scent before its gone. It goes without saying that this was my best Valentine’s Day to date.

Last Friday I had my first day of “work” at Barley Hall. I’m working as a volunteer at the front desk with the hopes of becoming a room steward in a month or two. Barley Hall is a medieval hall set up as a living history museum meaning a lot of the furniture etc are replicated so you can feel around and not be barred by those annoying red ropes when looking at the hall. It dates to the 13th century and is right smack dab in the middle of town in between Stonegate and Swinegate, great names right? It’s not the busiest time of year so currently I spend most of my time sitting and chatting with who ever I’m working with or else wondering around the hall. Tomorrow hopefully will be a bit busier because of the Viking festival this week that is drawing in the tourists. Not only tourists get excited for the festival though. Locals, like me, will also be enjoying the vast number of activities and events on offer. Particularly the Viking Battle on Saturday evening for which I am very excited. Vikings from all over the world will be joining up with the Anglo-Saxons to take on the Normans in 1068, does it get more exciting than this?

Now that I’ve relieved my writing itch I can retire to something a bit mindless. I’ve rented Nights in Rodanthe on iTunes and am thoroughly looking forward to curling up with a cup of tea and watching what promises to be a tear jerking chick flick. Sometimes you just have to play into that womanly stereotype.

*Members of Alcuin College i.e. Me.

The Only Snow Plow in England

While walking today in the Yorkshire dales around Bolton Abbey we saw what is apparently the only snow plow in London, but naturally they wanted to store it in Yorkshire where surely it would get more use. Well, no actually, they were wrong. This may be an exaggeration, I'm pretty sure the only snow plow in London is actually located somewhere within the city limits. As some of you may have seen on the news, seeing as how it's so very exciting, there is a wee bit of snow in London. In fact, it's more than London usually gets; prompting schools to close, buses to cease running, and the underground to shut down (because there's a lot of snow down there.) Some schools are still closed in the south leaving us Northerners wondering where the hell did all our snow go? We got a nice bit last Sunday evening and all day Monday. My flatmates and I made a snowman, Julio, engaged in a good old snow ball fight and attempted to sled down a hill on a trash bag--translation: we sat in the snow on top of a trash bag. It was all good fun, but then the next day we woke up to find a mere ghost of the beautiful blanket we previously had while two hours south of us there were heaps falling from the heavens. However, it's actually snowing again as I write this. Just a light dusting but perhaps when I wake up there will be enough to rebuild Julio. I just find it enormously amusing that England comes to a halt when faced with any type of weather that is hinting at extremism on either side of the spectrum. When there's snow on the ground the schools, roads, and trains all stop running. Shops close up and people just don't seem to know what to do. The great thing is that every English person is aware of this cultural oddity while the country is still left deciding whether or not to invest in a second snow plow for the greater London area. It's a tough decision.

Besides the snow I've been having a productive couple weeks. I've had a training session for my volunteer job at Barley Hall in town and will be starting work this week. I've also been continuing my cooking adventures and have successfully brought the beauty of mexican food to flat 5. We had beef enchiladas and chicken burritos, both turning out very well in my personal, and professional, opinion. I've started making some headway on my research project for which I am currently reading England and the Octopus by Clough Williams-Ellis, a very interesting essay-book published in 1928 commenting on the ever persisting urban sprawl taking over England's rich and history steeped countryside. A very good read, and the problem still rings true today as much as it did 80 years ago.
(Me at Bolton Abbey)
Today, like I mentioned at the beginning of the post, I went on a hike around the Bolton Abbey estate with outdoor society. The weather was lovely, despite the below freezing temperature(around 25-30F,) there was no wind, rain or snow falling. There was a lot of snow on the ground though which we trudged through with good spirits all morning and afternoon. My ankles are now protesting slightly at the strain they endured while slipping and turning on hills, hidden rocks and mud traps hidden under the snow. It was beautiful, especially ending at the 12th century abbey ruins that stood starkly against the snow.
(the view from my window)
But now I can see a soft blanket of snow settling on the ground outside and my copy of Harry Potter is calling me to my bed. I could fall asleep right here at my desk watching the calmly falling snowflakes out my window but I think it better to fall into bed, so I'll bid you adieu.