Of Graves and Drag Queens

Monday and Tuesday of this past week were relatively boring.  It rained, in proper British fashion, and I managed to finish my work early, so I legitimately had absolutely nothing to do until I received my next assignment.  In an effort to shake off the general malaise associated with being utterly at loose ends on a gloomy day, I decided to venture forth to try to visit Tolkien's grave.  It had been spitting a bit all morning without fully raining, so I took an umbrella but wasn't overly concerned.  I figured out the bus routes all by my lonesome, and got on my merry way.

Can I just point out, by the way, that the Oxford city buses don't announce the stops?  They're not very tourist friendly, since it took me half an hour online to even figure out which bus goes where I wanted to go, and you have to be able to recognize your stop by sight without any indications.  Conveniently for me I had written down which streets were close to my stop, so I managed to achieve transportation victory, but really, it wasn't overly easy.

To return to the point, as I sat on the bus, it began to rain.  Not terribly hard, just a constant drizzle. Okay, thought I, that's not too bad; I have an umbrella.  The moment that I identified my stop approaching, however, the gravid clouds gave birth to an approximately infinite number of tremendous rain drops.

In short, it poured.  And I wasn't wearing my wellies.

Despite this, Wolvercote Cemetery is lovely. Apparently it was voted "Best Cemetery" in 2001, and while I'm not sure what that would entail other than keeping its dead people soundly interred, it was a beautiful place despite nearly drowning.  Tolkien's grave is pointed out by a series of little stone markers.  The grave itself is a little cluttered with fans' tokens of admiration, some of which are completely inexplicable, but it was nice to see it for myself.  I had nothing to leave, but I was there, and that's enough for him and me both, I think.  I'm glad I got the chance to go while I was here.

Wednesday I had my tutorial with David.  I'd read and written on Measure for Measure, and I have to say that it was the first time in my Shakespeare tutorial that I actually felt mildly brilliant.  The conversation was really engaging, and I really felt like both David and I really enjoyed it.  Plus, I apparently uncovered something he didn't know: the name "Isabella" is associated with the phrase "consecrated to God" in Italian, and it works particularly well since Isabella in the play has every intention of becoming a nun.  To say that I did not do a mental happy-dance when he said he hadn't known that would be to lie.  I only have two more meetings with David, though we're doing them both next week, on Wednesday and Thursday.  I have to write on The Tempest, and already wrote another essay on A Midsummer Night's Dream about how the movie/play "Closer" by Patrick Marber starring Natalie Portman and Julia Roberts is the same story retold.  It was a challenging essay, but I'm not too worried.

Friday I finished my tutorial with Jennie.  I'd written on religion, myth and fairy tales in Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit by Jeanette Winterson, which I didn't find to be a particularly challenging book. I'm working on finishing up my tutorial with David now.

Saturday was Oxford Gay Pride!  There was a parade and a huge fair, and it was a lot of fun.  I went with friends, but ended up staying more than twice as long as they did; I got a lovely henna tattoo on my hand (for those of you who aren't familiar with henna, don't worry!  It's not permanent, it's just a stain that wears off within a week or so, depending on how well you treat it.)  I also took some fantastic pictures, which, as usual, you can find here.  It was a ball, and I'm glad I got to experience how Oxford does it.

Today's the last service with the Choir.  It all went very fast, and I can't believe this is the last one.  There's the Hertford College Music Society dinner on Thursday, which is a costume dinner based on the theme of "Children's Television."  I've got my costume all set up now, but I won't give it away yet; wait for pictures next week!

For my penultimate post while still in Oxford, I'll introduce a new category: Things I Miss:

• Mexican food
• Seafood other than fish (which is usually fried anyway), but right now particularly crab  (Mama, can I get the all-you-can-eat Maryland Blue Crab when we go to Tim's Rivershore?)
• Milk with meals (the Hall only has flavored milks, chocolate/banana/strawberry most of the time)
• Veggies other than peas and cabbage

Pretty much food in general other than carbs and meat, actually, so let's move on from that.

• The various cats that deign to share their existence with me
• Legitimately hot summer
• William and Mary
• Family
• Friends
• Night time.  The days are 16 and a half hours long and we're still more than a week from the solstice!

And of course...: Things I've Noticed:

• The bumble bees here aren't the big fat yellow and black ones back home.  They're smaller and gray.  The hornets, however, are huge and nasty.  I killed one (accidentally, while trying to catch it and put it outside, actually,) while TJ was still here, and we joked for the rest of his visit that I'd slain a dragon.  Seriously, massive.
• Dogs, according to my observances, are not nearly so pampered/appreciated/generally adored as they are at home.  If you smile and look at someone's doggy, the person gives you a weird look.  What, I just like your dog!
• "Trashing" is an Oxford post-exam tradition.  After you've finished your last exam, your "friends" pelt you with all sorts of detritus, from champagne, silly string and confetti to eggs, mayo, flour and all sorts of other nastiness.  What they throw is kind of up to them, so some people are nice and only throw relatively inoffensive things, but lots are less considerate.  Personally, for someone like me who really appreciates being clean, it sounds dreadful, but since I don't have exams I don't have to worry about it.
• Strangers make more eye contact than I'm fully comfortable with.  Cities like DC and New York have taught me the golden rule of "Look straight ahead, don't engage, use your peripheral vision" for strangers.  People here (particularly the homeless, but that's another story) will definitely look you in the eye before moving on.  It's mildly discomfiting. 
• Hand-rolled cigarettes are much more of a thing.  I see them pretty frequently.