A triumphant return.

Regular readers will know that, some months back, I retreated from the world of ‘academic blogging,’ whatever that means. But I was reading Augustine on dietary restrictions today (cf. Sermo 149) and was reminded of the simple joy of sharing, under esoteric and allusive Latin titles, the streams of consciousness which sometimes flow out of reading Augustine.

Here is one:

Unless you are a vegetarian, a Muslim or an observant Jew, you really have to try this simple recipe. Squeeze some lime on some pork chops (probably about half a lime per chop), and let them sit in the refrigerator for a while (probably a couple of hours, although more couldn’t hurt). Then fry them up with a little bit of garlic. It is surprisingly good.

We at the Olsen Biebighauser table had them with some sweet potatoes. There was a consensus that the meal would have been improved had there also been included some cilantro rice. LEARN FROM OUR MISTAKES, INTERNET.

(Reported by Meghan, as transcribed by Jeff)

9.20 pm The Deaf Society across the street from us has a fire alarm. HA.
9.21 pm Meghan remarks that the fire must have been a really big deal, because of all of the expressionative flailing on exhibit by the people leaving the building.
9.22 pm …it was sign language. Of course.
9.25 pm The old white Deaf People and the young black church group which uses the DS’s facility are funny to watch interact. Or not interact.
9.30 pm Hello, it’s the fire brigade: A fire truck arrives.
9.32 pm One old white woman (deafness undetermined) is allowed to enter the building. Is she interpreting?
9.33 pm A second fire truck arrives.
9.38 pm Cars lined up in the street to watch. There does not seem to be anything to watch.
9.39 pm A firefighter exits the building.
9.40 pm A second firefighter exits. They both appear to know sign language. Well done, British emergency services!
9.41 pm Both groups appear to be re-entering. The kitchen seems to be still smoking. Be careful! One of them looks like Jeff’s Grandma. The deaf people are entering first. The black church group are more hesitant. The black church group are dancing.
9.42 pm This did not call for two fire trucks, Meghan assesses.
9.44 pm Finally the black church group is moving back in. Meghan determines their speed as a mosey, at best.
9.46 pm Meghan asks Jeff to scan over her account for ‘racism and ablism’. Jeff notes that the latter is not recognized by spell check.
9.49 pm Meghan notes, wryly, that up til this point they’ve been pretty quiet neighbors.

WHY is my Goodreads montage a list rather than a proper montage?

So today at lunch, I walked down the hill to the the little University cafeteria where I’ll usually buy a sandwich. BUT since classes are out for Easter, there wasn’t much to choose from. I decided to just buy a banana and go back to my office and eat some ramen.

“Banana” might be the funniest of the British pronunciations. They say it like this: “ba-nah-nah.” I’ve made a point of not adopting British pronunciations or little British phrases since moving here. I don’t say “cheers” or “ta” and since I know that they’ll understand when I say “tomato” I certainly don’t concede and say “to-mah-to.”

SO. I go to the counter and ask for a banana. The woman has no idea what I’m talking about, even though I’m pointing, and so I concede the slightest bit and add an “ah” and she gets it. Great. So I pay my 30p. turn to leave, and the customer behind me, an old British woman who had been standing there the whole time not helping me in my efforts to communicate, looks at me without smiling and says “Ba-nah-nah Rah-mah” before purchasing her cottage pie.

So, Jeff and I went to see West Side Story at the Theatre Royal last week. We took the tram down the hill and were early, so we had to wait awhile in the lobby of the theater before they let us go to our seats. So we’re waiting, and making small talk, and debating buying tickets to see Evita next month when we noticed something strange. About a third of our fellow theater-goers were wearing cowboy hats and fringe. Lots of British people dressed like cowboys.

And it wasn’t just like, one big misinformed group, people that clearly didn’t know one another showed up to see West Side Story in cowboy boots.

So Jeff and I are like, “Well, I guess West Side Story does take place in America, so a stereotypical American costume isn’t entirely inappropriate.”

Finally we realized that we were in the Lobby of the Royal Concert Hall, which shares a building with the Theatre Royal. And who was playing that night at the Royal Concert Hall?

British people love Kenny Rogers.

I cannot emphasize enough the importance of Lipton Onion Soup Mix onion dip.

Something to watch while you’re waiting.

Alright everyone,

I do plan to begin blogging here soon.  It’s very important that you subscribe to this blog’s feed now, because you’re not going to want to miss it.

meghan.