Of the Particulars of Oxford Itself

Not much has happened in terms of new experiences since I last updated, so I'll spend the majority of this post delving a bit into the particulars of Oxford that make it so unique.  A few little things did happen, though, so we'll start with that.

I had my first evensong with the choir on Sunday night, and really enjoyed it a lot.  I think my favorite part, though, other than the singing itself, was the sheer formal procedure of it all.  Choir practice begins at 4:00, and goes until around 5:00 or shortly after.  Evensong begins at 5:25 and goes until perhaps 6:30, maybe slightly later.  This is followed by drinks in a common room by the SCR, which leads directly into Formal Hall.  Formal Hall is a bi-weekly tradition open to all students of the college, but which costs £7 normally.  For the choir, it is free.  It consists of a formal three-course meal, served to you at the long tables in the college hall by waiters.  Formal dress (suits and dresses) is required, and traditions must be observed: when the gavel is struck, attendees rise for the entry of the honored guests.  They sit only when they have seated themselves.  We rise again when the gavel is struck and the honorees desire to leave, and may either regain our seats or leave once they have left the room.  Finally, after Formal Hall, there's coffee back in the room where we had drinks, and everyone chats and has a wonderful time.  The whole experience from start to finish lasts about 5 or 6 hours, and I found it delightful.  Back home, the most formal we get on a regular basis is weddings, funerals and prom, and those happen, with any luck, rarely indeed.

The only other happening of note was my solitary adventure to a pub for lunch today.  I'd been an idiot and left my Bod Card (Oxford ID card) in my other pants pocket, and found myself unable to study in the library of my choice, or eat lunch in hall.  As I live a brisk 20-minutes' walk from college, I decided I'd rather just study elsewhere and fend for myself rather than retrace my steps and lose valuable reading time.  I set out to forage around 1:00, and went to the White Horse pub on Broad street.  They advertise their "bar food" as being available all day, and the items listed seemed both palatable and cheap, so I went inside.  I'm very glad I did!  Mussels in white wine sauce were the special of the day, so I set myself up with a matching glass of wine, the entree and tea afterwards for just under £11.  Not only was the food delicious, (though I had to wait rather a while; there was a problem with the till that kept my order from going back to the kitchen until a good 10 minutes had passed, and the place was busy,) but I also met a charming British family visiting Oxford.  The dad, (of about a grandpa-ish age,) was especially funny, and he and I had a funny conversation after he noticed my predicament with the food.  They were all very nice, though they didn't get my name nor I theirs, and it made my lunch all the more enjoyable.  I ended up killing more than an hour at the pub, but I can't say that my studies suffered too badly for the break.

Now, for some general information about Oxford; some of you have expressed interest, and who am I to deny my small-but-dedicated audience?

Hertford College is one of many, many (I've heard both the figure 38 and "more than 40,") colleges and programs within the greater beast that is Oxford University.  Each college has around 500 students, give or take, so the total number of students at Oxford is pretty huge.  My college is not necessarily the poshest or most rigorous, but it's known for having a very friendly atmosphere.  Though it's laid back in comparison to some of the others, its students still score very well on their examinations, and I wouldn't say that it's a party school in the same way that you would about some in America.  Students here still work very hard, and they take their work seriously when it comes down to it.

Exams at Oxford are terrifying.  From what I've been led to believe, you take your exams in your final year (the third year of study for an undergraduate degree,) and they judge you on pretty much everything from those three years.  Students here get incredibly stressed about these tests, and you can well imagine why.  Students are also required to wear formal academic robes (think Harry Potter) when taking their exams, and they wear a carnation of a certain color for each.  White signifies your first exam, and red signifies your last; it's red to symbolize the blood dripping out of your heart as you complete your last excruciating test.  Alarming, no?  When you're done with your last, your friends will often help you trash your gown.  It's apparently officially outlawed by the college, but people do it anyway.  It involves covering the lucky (?) student in all sorts of detritus once they've completed the last test, and celebrating to the fullest extent possible.

Since I shouldn't spend all my time waxing rhapsodic on the glories of Oxford, I'll bring up something a little less positive that I've noticed.  Perhaps it is to be expected, but there's a great deal of un-self conscious privilege here.  I mean this in the sense that there are a large number of people who have never wanted for anything, and haven't much thought about it either way.  I'm sure that's a lovely way to live, but it makes me feel a little uncomfortable.  Growing up as I have, I've known people who've really struggled; I've been in tough spots myself.  Perhaps I'm taking a shallow view of the people I'm talking about, but it really does seem like some people have never really spared a thought for those who have less money, or who are even of different situations than they've had.  Maybe that's an American thing; rich guilt, white guilt, elite guilt...  but I won't say that I think self-awareness is a bad thing.  As beautiful as this life is, I'm glad I know a good deal of Something Else, too. I'm grateful for what I have, and I'm always working for more; I don't expect it.

Things I've Noticed:

• People start their nights way, way earlier here.  Drinking may commence as early as 7 or 8, but they also finish much earlier.  Most pubs close at 11, and to find anything open past 2 AM is a surprise.  In fact, even shops close early; everything interesting is closed at 5, and if you want food after 8 PM you're pretty much confined to G&D's (an ice cream and bagel shop that's open late,) or the kabob vans.
• Kabob vans are everywhere at night.  They have everything from meat and sauce on pita bread to french fries with cheese and burgers.  I haven't eaten their food yet, but I've heard it's pretty delicious after a night on the town when you're starving at 1 o'clock in the morning. UPDATE:  Seriously the best cheeseburger I think I've ever eaten, anywhere, ever, came from Mehdi's kabob van on High Street tonight.  Absolutely fantastic.  Plus, the nice Pakistani man gave me free chips, (fries to us Americans.)
• No one expects me to drink tea, especially not proper English Earl Grey.  I happen to like tea, and drink it even at home, but I suppose the stereotype that we Americans only drink coffee is a well-established one.
• The young people are even more fashion-conscious than at home.  You rarely see anyone under the age of 25 in a plain t-shirt, though it's not particularly out of place.  
• All the young people are skinny. Well, maybe not skinny, but very few have been what I would call "fat."  This isn't true of the older generation, but I'd be hard pressed to name a single fat British student that I've met here.

I think that's enough for now!  Forgive me if I sound a little less enthused than normal; I usually update earlier in the day when my energy is high, and as I've been reading for about 7 hours, I'm a bit tired.  Still quite enthused with my situation and ecstatic to be here, but tired.   I plan to update again sometime soon!  I seem to have begun a sort of rudimentary schedule that has me posting on Wednesdays and Sundays, and as I see no inconvenience in this, I see no reason to discontinue it.  Be well!

Of Tutorials, Balls and Choir, oh my!

It's again been a busy few days since I updated!  I'll try to address things in order, then explain a bit more about how Oxford works, and give a few more "Things I've Noticed."

I had my first tutorial on Thursday afternoon.  It went pretty well, but I know there's substantial room for improvement.  I just felt like my tutor and I weren't entirely on the same page, as though she were trying to guide me to some greater point in the conversation and I just wasn't following her.  It didn't help that she was analyzing a favorite book of mine in ways that had never even occurred to me, and operating as though I had a working knowledge of British Victorian-era law.  Suffice it to say that I don't, and so her repeated references of the Divorce Act lead to much internal brain-scrambling and contextualizing on my part while still trying to sound at least moderately literate.  I wasn't discouraged, though, and know I'll get better at it; as Josephine has told us more than once, "If you were already good at this, you wouldn't need to be here!"

After, I went shopping to lift my spirits from the degree or so they'd fallen, and got these wonderful vintage-style posters.  I won't go into too much detail, but the main one is from a poster campaign Britain released during World War II, with the most wonderful being the pictured one here.  It was only to be released should the Germans invade Britain, and since that never happened, they were never put out.  A few years ago someone found one shoved in an old book, and some more were discovered in a warehouse, and they're just so intensely British that they sort of went viral.  I bought this one, as well as a blue one that says "Dig for Victory," (encouraging victory gardens,) and a yellow parody one where the crown is upside down that says "Now Panic and Freak Out."  I like them, and plan on having them framed and put in my living room when I get home.

Anyway, the next important thing was my first Choir rehearsal.  It's held in the Chapel, and mandatory rehearsals are Friday evenings and Sundays, with Sunday also having choral evensong.  I liked it very much.  I'm a decent sight-reader, so I don't think I did too dreadfully, and having a more experienced singer on my right was very helpful.  I should have anticipated this, but didn't; singing in Latin is particularly hard.  Only one of the songs we sang Sunday was, but since I've never had to do it, it threw me off.  I'll get used to it, though.  Exposure will make me better!  The choir had pizza and wine after, and I really enjoyed their company.  Grace, the organ scholar, is particularly nice, and I made several other acquaintances with whom I hope to form more lasting friendships.

Perhaps most exciting was the ball last night.  Unfortunately for you, I didn't take many pictures, because I was having too much fun enjoying myself without a camera glued to my face!  I did take a few, however, as did other people, so they should find their way onto facebook relatively soon where I can steal them for my own nefarious purposes.  As a reminder, all my Oxford pictures thus far can be found HERE, and that link will be updated to a maximum selection of 200 photos.  After that, I'll have to start another, and will inform you all accordingly.

Anyway, the ball.  The theme was "Gala of the Gods," which seemed to have no influence on the proceedings other than to provide a pretty cool name.  It was a relatively formal affair; "black tie" with slightly loosened requirements; knee-length cocktail dresses were permitted, and many girls pushed that envelope so far that it ceased to be an envelope at all, and became simply a piece of paper.  More on that later, actually, in the Things I've Noticed.  I wore a dress given to me by Nana, actually.  If my purse hadn't sprung open mid-photo, this would be a pretty good picture as well.  Anyway, there was a champagne reception with strawberries (really good strawberries!) in OB Quad, pictured above, and then we all moved as a group to the Oxford Union for the ball proper.  Then ensued a good deal of madness.

Apparently the event planners hadn't realized that by around 9:00, after standing around drinking champagne and eating nothing but strawberries for an hour and a half, most of the guests would be hungry.  The "queue" for the food table was ridiculous, in that those of us who had the mingled fortune and misfortune to be nearest the front were instantly crushed half to death by a swelling throng of eager and mildly inebriated college students.  This is where I met one of my new friends for the evening, in that I was jammed up against his back for the better part of half an hour.  As he remarked, "We're British, damnit!  We should know how to queue!"  I actually didn't mind too much, other than having my feet stepped on, and eventually food was had.

There was dancing, and rather a lot of drinking, and everyone seemed to have a very good time.  I met someone who wore a waistcoat complete with pocket watch, and I had ouzo for the first time; I found it really good!  The music ranged from 50's-60's era American rock and roll to techno later on, and the cover band was quite good, despite the oddity of hearing "Great Balls of Fire" from a singer with a British accent.  My feet were hurting pretty intensely by about 12:30, so I ended up leaving before the silent disco, (apparently they shut off all the music and give everyone wireless headsets that play the music that way; I'm not sure entirely what the appeal would be there, maybe someone can explain the novelty to me?)  I walked back to the Grad Centre with two other visiting students from Princeton, and hung around while they got "chips and cheese" from a kabob van.  (Chips and cheese does not equal cheesefries back home; it's french fries with shredded cheese and ketchup on top.)  All in all, it was a very good evening, and a great introduction to a very "Oxbridge" kind of tradition.

A note on Oxford, from Wikipedia:
As a collegiate university, Oxford's structure can be confusing to those unfamiliar with it. The university is a federation: it comprises over forty self-governing colleges and halls, along with a central administration headed by the Vice-Chancellor. The academic departments are located centrally within this structure; they are not affiliated with any particular college. Departments provide facilities for teaching and research, determine the syllabi and guidelines for the teaching of students, perform research, and deliver lectures and seminars. Colleges arrange the tutorial teaching for their undergraduates. The members of an academic department are spread around many colleges; though certain colleges do have subject alignments (e.g. Nuffield College as a centre for the social sciences), these are exceptions, and most colleges will have a broad mix of academics and students from a diverse range of subjects. Facilities such as libraries are provided on all these levels: by the central university (the Bodleian), by the departments (individual departmental libraries, such as the English Faculty Library), and by colleges (each of which maintains a multi-discipline library for the use of its members).

For those of you with the "tl;dr" mentality, here are the ever-popular Things I've Noticed:

• Dresses here can be way, way, way shorter than at home.  Oh, you'll still get the judging eye of your peers cast upon you, but people are much more willing to wear the shortest of short skirts I think I've ever seen.
• A lot of fathers wear those silly baby-strapped-to-your-chest thing.  I see it on moms at home, but it seems to be more of a dad thing here.  Not really sure why.
• People don't really keep their dogs on leashes, except the tiniest dogs. The bigger and more exuberant the dog, the more likely it is to be running loose a good 50 feet ahead of its owner.
• British people, the choir particularly, love to dissect accents.  My pronunciation of the word "Chilean" (chill-AY-an,) just about started a revolution.  (Apparently, it's CHILLY-en here.)

Last, for your edification, a video I took of my normal walk to Oxford; it's precisely 10 minutes long and has really terrible editing because I had to cut it down; youtube didn't like my 13 minute long video.  The part where it goes black is where I'm sneaking into the Radcliffe Camera.



And yes, as TJ spoiled, a scout is a cleaning woman.  I'll update again soon!

Of A Busy Day!

My, but today's been busy!  My life promptly went from rather boring and solitary to pretty exciting, comparatively speaking.  I suppose details are in order, and I assure you, sagacious reader, they shall not be lacking!  (Sorry about that; "sagacious reader" is sort of an in-joke with just me, relating to a course I took freshman year on Tom Jones and other works by Henry Fielding.  Just bear with me, I won't do that sort of thing too unbearably often.)

First, I had a nice lunch this afternoon with Josephine (aka Dr. Reynell, the woman in charge of us Visiting Students,) and the JCR representatives for Welfare, (which is the term they use for general wellbeing,) in the Ferrar room above the college hall, up the stairs pictured.  It was the best I've eaten since I arrived, and I was informed that it will keep that rank for the rest of my stay.  It was nice to have fresh fruit; that reminds me, there is a plum, a kiwi and a pear in my backpack that I should probably retrieve before I go to bed.  I would have taken the raspberries, but I didn't think they'd hold up too well in the back pocket of my bag.

After, I spent the afternoon reading The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Brontë in the lower camera of the Radcliffe Camera.  The Rad Cam is just about the most stunning building I've ever seen in my life.  Unfortunately, pictures aren't allowed on the inside, but I'll try to take a few sneaky ones when I can.  The upper camera is very grand; high, arched ceilings, big windows, a lot of light and air but total silence.  The lower camera is more to my liking.  The ceilings are lower, though still stone and vaulted, and there are dozens of dark wood bookshelves all around.  Each desk is lit with its own reading lamp, and has both an electrical outlet and an internet network port, which catches me off guard in such an old building.  Incredibly convenient, though, as I've found all the books for my first tutorial online as e-books.  It's kind of charming, to mix the old with the new in such a way.


It was during the afternoon that I actually contacted the college chaplain, Leanne Roberts, and joined the Hertford Chapel Choir, (the Chapel itself is pictured).  It only meets twice a week, on Fridays and Sundays, but Sunday nights is choral evensong, and it just seems like it'll be a really nice thing to do.  Apparently they feed us for free twice a week because of it as well, and who am I to turn down free food?  I just hope I'm good enough; I was more confident before, but it's hard to be quite so daring as usual when you're still settling into an entirely new country, particularly one that's been uninterruptedly independent for 4 times as long as your own has even existed.  I really do love to sing, though, and music has always been a soothing part of my life.  Plus, it'll be an excellent way to make friends.  Speaking of which...

Until this point, the other William and Mary kids and I have somewhat moved as a pack; separate most of the time, but meeting up often before doing anything social or important.  Today, I went to dinner by myself, and actually managed to make some friends.  I feel a bit as though I'm in kindergarten with how proud I am of that, but it's true!  One in particular, a guy named Nike, was particularly interested in talking to me, and we had a good deal of fun discussing women's issues and their repercussions.  He also informed me that Phillip Pullman will be giving a talk in early May, and directed me to the site where I could sign up to attend.  I'm very much looking forward to that; the His Dark Materials trilogy is excellent, and he's prominent in the fantasy genre in which I have so much interest.  There were three others as well; David, Clare/Clair, and one who's name I've forgotten.  I'll have to ask Nike.  David was able to name the make of each of the cars my family has owned once I gave him the company and year; it was rather astonishing.  I don't think I've ever had as comprehensive a knowledge in any subject in my whole life as he has about cars.

Tomorrow afternoon, I have my first tutorial.  This is my "Victorian Detective Novels and Sensation Fiction" module, and my first essay was to read and discuss Jane Eyre in terms of the Gothic themes presented throughout.  Luckily for me, as I think I may have mentioned, Jane Eyre is my favorite non-Tolkien-authored book.  I contacted Professor Wheatley back at home, who is not only the head of the Honors committee but also my professor for "Gothic Literature" back in the Spring of freshman year.  I've had other classes with her as well, (well, class singular, actually: The English Romantic Period,) so I felt free to ask her to send some of the material from The Gothic on to me to help me brainstorm, which it did.  The essay's been sent off to Helena, my tutor, and we'll see tomorrow how well I've grasped this concept of the Oxford Tutorial.

Oh, for those that asked, this is my mailing address; and no, there is no street number, I didn't just mistype:

Justine di Giovanni
Care of William and Mary
Hertford College Lodge
Catte Street, Oxford OX1 3BW
United Kingdom 


Also, for anyone who wants to contact me by phone, I can be reached at 703 879 7125.  It's the same price for you as calling any other number with a (703) area code, because I purchased the use of an online American phone number while I'm away.  Just keep the time difference in mind!  I'm five hours ahead of you lot, and calling me at 9 PM your time will make for a very unhappy Justine.

In conclusion, here's another list of Things I've Noticed:

• There are no telephone poles or electrical wires.  I'm not sure if everything's buried, or if they're artfully strung from roof to roof; I've seen none.

• There are more people with canes and crutches; lots more.

• Oxford has the second largest homeless population in England, after London.

• Personal space bubbles are a little bit smaller.  I'm used to people dodging each other on the street pretty widely; here, it seems fine to brush against people as you pass even if there's a great portion of sidewalk left over.  That, or everyone can just tell I'm American and is accordingly rude

• Swans are really big.  Like, really big.  I'd never seen one as close-up as I have now that they take their morning swims right outside my window.

• It's still farkin' cold.  Colder, in fact; today had a high of 52 degrees Fahrenheit.  In fact, my heater only goes to a maximum of 21 Celsius, or 69.8 degrees Fahrenheit.  That, my friends, is pretty durn cold for a maximum possible temperature.  The weather, however, has been beautifully sunny, and I'm convinced that it most certainly won't last much longer.

Also, happy birthday, Aunt Carrot!  I hope your Nana-made cake surpassed your wildest expectations.

That's enough for tonight; I've taken to getting up and out by around 9:30 each morning, so as to avoid my Scout.  What a Scout is can wait for the next post; it's something I'm certainly not accustomed to from living in an American dorm!

PS:  See some folk dancers from Saturday:

Of Arrival, and the First Few Days

I had been waiting for my official college internet to be set up before posting an entry, but since it seems that IT guys are the same everywhere, (pasty, running out of the basement, and largely unhelpful,) that may be another day or so, and I don’t want to forget everything between now and then. 

The flight over was relatively painless.  Decent food, free wine, and a great selection of in-flight entertainment.  I happily chose the seat at the very front of economy class, so while my seat was still tiny, I had more leg room than I knew what to do with.  I slept for a few hours, but awoke at 6 AM BST (1 AM EST,) and watched the sun rise over the ocean.  Lovely, but didn’t really contribute to a feeling of being well-rested the next day.

Heathrow was oddly empty, which I realized later was due to the Icelandic volcano.  Apparently my flight was one of the last ones in; I arrived at 20 past 9, and the airport shut down at 11.  My experience, however, was completely unaffected by volcanoes or otherwise, and I made it through immigration and baggage claim with no difficulties.  I actually didn’t even have to pass through customs, as they took my word for it that I had nothing to declare. 

My friend Cassie and her friend Olivia were waiting for me outside; they had arrived two hours earlier, but had had to shuttle over from their terminal to mine in order to catch the Heathrow-Oxford express coach anyway.  We caught the coach just as it was about to leave, and sped on our way without incident.  We met a nice gentleman on the bus who had spent some time in the States, and was most interested to hear about William and Mary and to tell us about Oxford.

By the time we dragged our luggage from the bus stop to the college lodge, (which only I knew the location of, by the way; a big thank you to my mother’s endeavors on the internet to ask for assistance,) it was about 11, and we all felt as though we’d already had a 30 hour day.  Which, in all honesty, we had.  Our two orientation aides, Dean and David, met us at the lodge, and David took us to our rooms via a taxi, which was driven by the most talkative, opinionated gentleman I think I’ve ever met.  In case you weren’t aware, he informed us that all Oxford bands are “crap” and that music has gone downhill since White Snake.  It may be advantageous to note that he had a mullet.

The rest of the first day was pretty uneventful; we were all so tired that it mostly consisted of wandering the city for food and internet access to tell our families that we were alive.

I live in the Graduate Centre, which is directly on the Thames, (at this point called the Isis, I believe,) and my window looks directly out onto the river, the rear of the Christ Church Gardens, and the port of a large steamer which ferries drunken tourists and student groups along the river at all hours of the night.  There are also a large number of extremely talkative swans.  Thankfully, I am a very heavy sleeper when I want to be, so none of this bothers me in the slightest.

Much of my time has been spent in meetings, and then wandering the city.  Oxford is much more of a real city than I was anticipating.  The entire place is choked to death with buses, all from different unregulated companies in different shades of bright colors.  High, St. Aldates and Broad Streets are all covered in shops, from high end book stores to pharmacies, and cheap clothing boutiques with flimsy summer clothes.  What’s really fascinating is the mix of old and new; there’s a 300-year-old Tudor façade on the building immediately next to the Burger King.  The oldest building in Oxford, over 1,000 years, is very near to a KFC.  I’ll have you know that despite the presence of a Cadbury Crème Egg McFlurry, I have not yet even touched American fast food here.  In fact, last night the other William and Mary students and I went to our first Oxford Pub, “The Turf.”  I looked it up online, and it’s a point of pride that I was actually able to find it.  One must walk onto a tiny winding lane under the Bridge of Sighs, then turn into a shabby alley no more than two feet wide called “St. Helen’s Passage.”  (For the nerdy among us, Cassie remarked, “I feel like I’m going to Diagon Alley!)  At the end, after a turn or two, you end up at The Turf.  This is where Bill Clinton famously “did not inhale,” and also where the Prime Minister of Australia set the world record for downing a yard of ale in 11 seconds as a student.  I had the fish and chips, and a pint of the Landlord’s Favorite, and it was quite a satisfactory experience.

You can find my photos HERE, including a few that I've included in this post.  Here are just a few things I've noticed:

• Everything food related is a few degrees warmer than I’m used to.  The beer, the refrigerators; they’re just a touch less cool than I expect.  It’s not a bad thing, it’s just different. I think I actually like beer a bit better when it doesn’t hurt my teeth to drink it.

• They say “take away” rather than “take out.”  I don’t know why that struck me.

• They really do say “cheers” to everything.

• Bags are not a given in stores.  You must request one, or look awkward until they take pity and give you one.

• It’s cool.  Everyone who lives here is running around in skirts and short sleeves, and I’m only comfortable in my fleece jacket.  Oh well; it should get a few degrees warmer, and I’ll adjust.

• It’s absolutely gorgeous.  Really.  I haven’t been a place this stunning in my entire life. 

I’m not homesick, persay, but there are people and things I miss.  Nonetheless, I’m having a fantastic time so far, and I actually can’t wait for my tutorials to start.  I have my first meeting with Helena, my Victorian Literature tutor, on Thursday.  Until then, it’s free study and free time.

Of Pre-Oxfordian Anxiety

So, here we are. Six days until my departure for the land of Eng, and I'm already at the too-anxious-and-excited-to-sleep phase. This isn't a bad thing entirely! I've already remembered several more things that I must retrieve from Williamsburg this weekend during my hours of non-somnolence.

I've also begun packing; the enormous, handily-wheeled suitcase provided by Aunt Karen should be large enough for all I need to bring, and hopefully I won't overweight it. An additional $40 for one more bag seems dreadfully imprudent considering my pending excursion to a country where my dollars will suddenly be worth 2/3 as much as I'm used to.

Honestly, I'm apprehensive; I've been waiting for so long at this point that it's a little intimidating to think of this actually happening. Don't get me wrong: there's no stage of the actual process that particularly frightens me, and I'm sure that I'll be more than able to handle each step of the traveling procedure. Just the reality of such a change looming so close is exciting and a little alarming.

The little powder-blue countdown clock that's been living in the bottom left of my computer screen reads 0 weeks, 6 days, 11 hours and some odd minutes. That's not a lot of time, and it's hard to pin down whether I'm thrilled or panicked about that.

Edited to add: Unfortunately, this blog allows one to select only one time zone for all of one's posts, and I found it to make more sense to set it to London time. It is most assuredly not 2 o'clock in the afternoon; I doubt I should complain of my sleeplessness if it were.