Oxford has two seasons ...

... winter and French schoolchildren!

I remember from our last trip around Europe in '98 that many places in England were overrun with French, Italian or Spanish schoolchildren. At the time I never really bothered to think why that could be, other than the proximity of those countries. But now I've figured out that they're all at that age where nobody likes them, including their parents. So they have been sent to England on English-language summer courses. In '98 group leaders spray-painted the kids' heads different colours to know which ones were in which group. Now they just give them all matching backpacks. Backpacks which, being at THAT age, they fail to remove when on crowded public transit and whack you with repeatedly. They stand around in self-absorbed groups, blocking sidewalks, doorways, store aisles, train platforms, basically anywhere you need to be. We biked into town to do errands this afternoon, and it reminded me of Toronto during Canada World Youth. Shudder. We usually spend weekends biking out of town, away from the tourists, visiting outlying villages and their 'gastro-pubs'. (A trend I highly approve of, which makes me a total yuppie.) Or visiting places like Winchester or Bath, both of which I'd recommend.

I'm finding I don't have much energy for writing, though. The past few weeks I've either been at work or been worrying about work, and I can't really write about that. I considered the much-used 'humorous list' format for a cheap and cheerful entry about things that have happened lately: Maybe 'Ten things it is hard to do in a wrap skirt on a windy day' (nah, guys couldn't relate). Or 'Physical manifestations of my advancing age' (but why ruin the illusion of perfection?). How about 'Things that have given me acid reflux lately'? (No, because that would be everything, and it's too big a list.) Or 'Cultural references I have made at work that have merited only blank stares' (Chef Boy-Ar-Dee and Tofurky aren't, apparently, on peoples' radars here, and are therefore decidedly Unfunny).

Anyway, I don't have a lot of material. Or I didn't, until Jeff unexpectedly completed his latest quixotic mission. See, I am an over-thinker. I weigh all the options, consider the consequences, plan for all eventualities, and as a result rarely accomplish anything. He is an under-thinker. He decides something would be cool, and goes out and does it with unseemly haste. Usually we balance each other out, but I thought he'd gotten away from me on this one. After he unsuccessfully bid on about thirty dishwashers on e-Bay, to my horror he actually won one. I had no idea how he would ever fit a dishwasher into our teeny tiny Euro kitchen, and envisioned the thing becoming an impromptu end table. It arrived, sat on our living room floor for a week, and seemed to fulfill my fears. But Jeff figured out how to hook it up, and it works. In a mere three hours (about as long as one of the wash cycles in our teeny tiny Euro washing machine) we can now wash approximately two glasses, two plates, and four forks, ALL AT THE SAME TIME!


Okay, so it takes a few more dishes than that, but you can see for yourself how ridiculously small it is. I had no idea such a thing even existed until I moved here!


Europeans love their teeny tiny appliances. Here, in only about four square feet of space, is our fridge, washing machine, furnace, and dishwasher. Not pictured: diminuitive microwave and lethargic stove.

(I'm going on holiday! In only three days!)