Musings from Bath
In some ways it is only now that it has hit me how much I miss Oxford and how much I took for granted, but life would be dull if it remained static. Life without formal hall and poncing around in a gown will take some getting used to, as will the fact that 10 minutes walk is no longer a long way. Some things on the other hand I will get used to too easily. Like the dishwasher, the proper kitchen and the TV. Nice.
Bath, like another great city I could name, is not short on hills. I might attempt to join the few who cycle on occasion but in the last couple of days I've had the joy of sussing out the buses. I hate buses, but some things I might just have to get used to. It could be easier said than done though - I found out to my cost yesterday that the X39 express bus stops at the number 14 stop I walked passed and then sailed past the number 14 stop I waited at.
Oh dear, I've started writing bus stories to complement my railway anecdotes. What's more, the above isn't interesting in the slightest (except perhaps to Mugford, for whom I shall resist the urge to delete it).
Fortunately I have decided not to ramble about my visit to the computing services earlier. It was probably only funny because I'd been queuing for so long that my brain had melted. Besides, it's late, and I need to get some sleep.
Tomorrow is course induction day. Time to get to grips with the main reason for being here. It is also time to find out if my eyesight will hold when it comes to reading and lectures, but at least if I get a timetable tomorrow I can set about making appointments with the specialist.
Incidentally I was amazed by the number of comments on my previous post. I wouldn't have had a clue about HMC Schools; I was going to suggest the H (that's "aitch" not "haitch") stood for Haberdashers but just as well I didn't. Sam would have disowned me and that would be that as far as further invites to the East India Club go.
Thank you very much for reading, bye for now.
Comments
Of course it's still exhiliratingly beautiful, and the atmosphere often to die for - but take comfort in the fact that Bath can scarcely be much worse!
Your assumption is that Oxford life remains static. It does not. I've walked three times alone this week to Morning Prayer and Gertie's will be without jacket potatoes. The arrogant cocks are likely to have loud gatherings below my flat and I'm having traumas of a lack of instantly hot showers. The doom of collections still remains though. Alas.
(However, I'm actually loving Oxford and have seen loads of people since I've been back and am so happy to be settled and have freeview and ... you can imagine)