Continued from previous post
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1. I was in Britain for most of the summer of 1994, although it's possible I took a short trip home to Florida to visit. John's did slow down after the exam term, but there still needed to be staff around in case of fires or conferences (I can't remember there being many conferences).
But the summer was a time for exploring. For example, Rachel Leonard talked me into doing a 2000-foot parachute drop. It was a still line pull. You climbed out onto the wing. They turned the propeller off. You let go.
It all looked very easy from the ground. When it was my turn, I wondered why I was climbing out of a perfectly good airplane. But when they said to push off, I dutifully did so. It was nice. The chute opened.
As I descended, I watched as Rachel must have been climbing out on the wing. The engine cut. The engine started back up again. She didn't jump the first time. I guess the second time he shouted and startled her into letting go.
2. There was also a two-day, 200-mile bicycle race from Belfast to Dublin and back the next day. I bought an orange bike for 100 pounds and had been training (gave or sold it to Phil Burns when I left). Several of us flew on a small plane to Dublin with our bikes. I think Ceri Huws was on that trip. She was a Welsh harp player of some skill. Maybe Emma Houghton and David Fox too.
Those were the days when the unrest in Northern Ireland with the IRA was in its twilight. There were still military vehicles that wandered up and down the streets of Belfast with machine guns pointed at the sidewalks (that was a little startling to me). In the subways, you were warned to report any backpacks or other things sitting unattended on the platforms. But the violence was pretty much over by then.
It was a fun, exhausting two days. I remember devouring a Snickers bar at the border to Ireland -- and I don't like Snickers. I remember the bus passing a Subway on the way to dorm rooms that night at Trinity College, Dublin (it could have been University College). So close, yet so far away.
3. Another highlight of that summer was a backpacking trip around Scotland with Rachel Leonard and James Quirk. James was doing his degree in Geography, I believe, which was something quite different than what we think when we say that in the US. It involved some pretty serious stuff, including engaging some post-structuralist thinkers like Levi-Strauss. He would eventually become an Anglican priest and is living in Canada.
We went to Edinburgh, then to Inverness, then to the Isle of Skye, and back. Passed Lindisfarne of course on the way up. You can only drive over and back at low tide. At high tide, the road is under water.
I've always thought that Edinburgh was a two-day visit. My daughter Sophie did an MA there and I warned her. But she loved it. Arthur's Seat, the Royal Mile. That cursed John Knox. I went with her over, and then we went to her graduation. All lovely.
Later that summer, Neil Evans and (I think) Alistair Kirk and I went to the Edinburgh Art Festival in August. I tried Haggis and blood pudding (Mark 7:19 permitted me). You just have to. Forgive me but I also tried Guinness. It's Irish (it decreases in quality the farther you get from Dublin, apparently). These all seemed necessary to get the full cultural experience.
I must confess that, after trying beer there, I didn't like it. I get the sense that alcohol is an acquired taste.
4. The bus rides passed some incredibly beautiful mountains, especially from Fort William to the Isle of Skye. There's a castle on a lake when you're almost there. It features I think in some movies. This was before they built the bridge over. We had to take a ferry.
I can't remember at what point of this trip that Rachel declared quite rightly that I was crap. She wasn't too angry, just making an observation. I had a tendency to wing it back then. In the words of Indiana Jones, "I don't know. I'll think of something." But as you know, "assumption is the mother of all screw ups."
When we finally got on the island, it was getting late. I had booked a hostel on the south side of the island, but as it was a Sunday, there was no public transportation to get there. I believe we somehow arranged a taxi, but by the time we got there, they had given away our reservation, which didn't seem very nice to me.
There was a man across the way who apparently wanted to get into the hosting business, and thus began our adventure. It was quite a bizarre experience, and unfortunately, this well-intentioned man, like me, was crap.
Thinking we were doing Rachel a favor, we let her sleep in the house. But, as it were, the man had her sleep in his daughter's room -- with the unhappy daughter sleeping in the room too! She was not happy.
Meanwhile, James and I slept in some kind of a camper that apparently had at some time been under water. The man managed some cereal or some such in the morning, and we couldn't have been happier to get away.
5. These were precious experiences. By the end of my first year, I had swept a good deal of Scotland. I had been to Ireland from Belfast to Dublin. I had been across London and hit most of the sites there.
I believe on my way to visit home either that first Christmas or perhaps in the summer, I took a day to visit Oxford. To be frank, I didn't really like the city. For me, it was both too cramped and too ostentatious. As I said in my previous post, Cambridge was much more to my liking, more laid back and rural in feeling.
But I got my pictures of Oxford. I think I was still using a real camera that my father gave me. I think it had been his originally. It had a red strap and all. Soon we would transition to those throwaway cameras that you could get developed at Walgreens and CVS. Man, how times have changed.



