A week of Brittania

On Monday, we received a lot of tea and several lectures of orrientation.

There was one moment when I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was home with these folk. A room full of 60 odd scholars--the lecturer says, "And you have every text written in English before 1850 available, online." The students looked like a little league team who just heard that Babe Ruth would be their coach. Grins were broad and eager, and excited whispering filled the room. It was a shiny moment in the life of a recovering nerd.

The week has been exciting and a bit frightening. We are to expect a plethora of writing and research, and will be graded in a manner meant to encourage progress. The rolling hills and inviting grassy planes remain, yet the stone towers of Oxford have come a bit more into focus. There are hard matters here, though the hardest may be the most beautiful of all.

With Schama and various British professors as guides through the years of Britain, our motley crew has sailed through the history of the aged isle from the Mesolithic period to the 13th century. I love my dear Biola and all my professors at it, but there is something marvellous about learning from someone speaking in a British accent. Every words sounds dignified.

The weather has been beautiful. For the first time in my life, I have had to purchase an umbrella. It's a wonderful souvenir, since it has the crest of Wycliffe Hall (my college) on it, and shall stay in good condition when I return to California, as I will have little need for its use.

I could write a whole post on the rain, but since I have been told by some that they are actually kindly reading this blog, I will not submit an audience to the ravings of the desert girl. Especially because my fellow Oxford students may be reading this and some may be less cordial to me if they knew I prayed for this sort of weather.

There is the week, save for the field trips. In the interest of this particular post not dragging on for always, I shall write on them seperately.