I like writing about weekends and holidays, so it might look like I do nothing here but play.
But during the week I actually attend Welsh and Creative Non-Fiction lectures, go to writing seminar, study for Welsh exams, do research, find sources, and live in the library working on literary travel writing and newspaper articles.
They say if do what you love you'll never work a day in your life. I love Welsh, and I love writing.
So actually, I do do nothing but play.
Leanne packed ham, tuna and mayo, tomato-basil-cheese sandwiches, pickles, crisps, salad, and homemade chocolate cake in a wicker basket, and we drove out to Bracelet Bay. The wide open sea glinted ahead like a magpie's haven under a fresh blue sky. From out on the water, sounds of yelling motorboaters carried up to us, and a sailboat and tanker cut through the waves.
Varsity is the British equivalent of homecoming. The main event is the evening rugby match, but it was a big day for all sports, from lacrosse to canoe polo to American football to swimming. On Wednesday not a wisp of cloud showed its face in the blue sky. The sunny campus was covered in Swansea green, peppered with Cardiff red, littered with beer cans, and the smell of hotdogs and salty chips tempted me at every concession stand. It felt like the last day of school before summer holidays.
I cheered Paige and Charlotte on at Ultimate Frisbee.
We lost to Cardiff by a single try in the last five minutes; it was an exciting match! Well done, lads. I still don't understand rugby, but at least now I see that there is a highly complex order to the chaos of scrumming and tackling, and they do call their end zone an end zone.
People think I'm so healthy because I eat salad and fruit all the time. Really, I'm just not bothered to plan a grocery list according to a recipe and do a lot of measuring and mixing.
Sometimes it's nice to have a hot meal, though, and the other day I found a dish easy enough for even me.
Egg drop soup. A classic American Chinese food, a novelty to the British.
It's quite nice, and easy. Seriously.
Ingredients (add or subtract whatever whatever carbs and veg you like):
2 c water
couple drops of oil (preferably sesame, but I used olive)
leek &/ onion chopped
1/2 c frozen peas
spoonful of tomato paste (optional)
spoonful of soy sauce, and then to taste
one or two cloves of garlic
rice noodles
egg
handful of spinach
cooked rice
Directions:
Add oil, leek and/or onion + peas to water and bring to a boil in a saucepan. Add tomato paste, soy sauce, and garlic. Stir occasionally. Add noodles. When everything is cooked, slowly pour in the beaten egg. Slowly stir clockwise with a fork for 1 minute to get it nice and shreddy. Add spinach. Remove from heat. Add rice. Eat.
If an alien were to come to Oxford, our tour guide Tom told us, it would notice two things: academia and religion. Tom was right. Every corner you turn in that city--right on Beaumont Street, left on Blue Boar Street, on the corner of Turl Street and Brasenose Lane--you run into a college or cathedral. The aura of intelligence and reverence spills onto the common tourist from all those spiky turrets, lofty clocktowers and spires, and the solemn statues behind their protective nets.
Swansea welcomed me back with three days of sun. I snatched the opportunity for a beach wander and a read on the green.
Sandals were a bit optimistic; it's always colder by the sea.
Singleton Park
As long as I can remember I have known C. S. Lewis's tales of talking horses, high seas, singing cabbies, and great lions. More recently I've come to appreciate Tolkien's brilliance as a linguist and as the pioneer of Fantasy, and also for his role in leading one of the best-known writers of Christian apologetics to faith in Jesus.
I was a bit disappointed with the pub. The food was pricey, and a few paintings, postcards, and a couple notices were the only memorabilia. However, Oxford itself is well-sprinkled with signs, plaques, former haunts, and of course the colleges associated with the two.
In front of "no-fun" Merton College
As for the pint, I much prefer a sweet half glass of port to that nasty, chicken-stock yellow stuff people seem to enjoy so much.
Half of appreciating what you see--gilt silver toiletry sets given to queens, vaulted stone bridges arching overhead, ages old castles atop hills, and hot mid-morning coffee to ward off the cold--is talking about what you see. You have to point and ooh and ahh at it to someone else.
I met up with Ellen at the hostel. We left our heavy luggage and began a day-long wander through the city.
The park and all the benches were packed with people chatting and napping in the glorious sunshine.
Historic, browned buildings and cobbled streets are common sights in Edinburgh, and so are commanding cathedrals. You can't go far without seeing a spire or a steeple sticking up like a tour guide's umbrella. If only they looked a little more distinguishable, they would make perfect landmarkers.
We ambled through alleyways and down the Royal Mile, happy to stumble across bagpipers, handmade pendants, Pinterest-worthy shops, and a working wool mill. Pretty soon our bellies demanded food, so we stopped and educated ourselves on local dishes. Ellen bravely ordered haggis and liked it. I decided to suppress my tears and do as the Scottish--lamb stovie for me! It had that stinky taste that goat cheese has, but still, it was really nice! The flavors all melded together in a savory, tender, and filling mash steaming in its crockery.
As warm as it was at two o'clock, by half six we regretted leaving our coats behind. Being lost is less of a game with a chilly wind blowing your face. Helpful strangers directed us uphill back to the city center. Once back, we plopped in front of the gas fire, thawed out, and called it a night.
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