The Black Swan and Other Adventures

I am sitting in the kitchen enjoying a bottle of Brideshead Bitter. York’s one and only according to themselves. It’s brewed in Micklegate (mickle from Old English ‘great’ and gate because, well, there’s a gate at the end), which also houses our post office, our grocery store (Budgens) and the bus stop to school. No wait, I tell a lie. Those last two are on Bridge Street (‘cause of the bridge, see). But they are connected. It’s a nice bitter.

In the living room Katrine and some of her school mates are watching some English costume drama with I believe Emma Thompson, Hugh Grant and more such people. We made muffins (blueberry and banana-and-peanut butter) and I am stuffed. There is much giggling.

So, I’ve started school for real now. I only have to go to the uni Monday to Wednesday. My classes are small, which I like, and so far it’s been very interesting. The professors are very knowledgeable and kind. There are some minor difficulties (unclear timetables, lack of info etc) but my classmate from Bergen, Janne (with whom I thankfully share one subject), and I have been able to sort out most things so far.

As for Katrine, she’s had only a few days of school this week. Apparently, her literature class is the only thing they have at the moment, not starting with the other subjects until they are done being literate. This was of course a welcome surprise as the literature class has a huge work load. On Monday there were a few lectures on Victorian literature, but these were not compulsory. As she slept through the first, she did go to the second, which, while allegedly not as boring as the first, was nevertheless kind of dull. She’s also had a tour of the city’s buildings of the more Victorian persuasion (heck, we live in one), had tea at her professor’s house (with the rest of the class, I hasten to add) and one or two seminars.

Also, while browsing the site of one of York’s theatres on Monday, she discovered that they have an acting class (running over the course of few weeks) which started that day, which she promptly attended. And since there is a gym not two minutes away from us, we are now proud members of Emperor’s and will be going to boxing classes on Wednesdays. Katrine’s world is always running a bit ahead of mine, so it’s a good thing she’s around to drag me into those things. But I do intend to see about joining the uni’s photography society. Honest, I’ll send them an email soon!

Tuesday I was at the university from 9.15 am to 5 pm and when I got home I was absolutely knackered. But the next day was more relaxed, and after my Phonetic Variation and Change practical (two hours listening for T-glottaling in Derby dialect and variations of R in a Scottish dialect – love it) I had time to go to the aforementioned post office to post a letter. As this isn’t far from our Fairfax Street, I figured I’d walk round the back and take a shortcut. Well well. In the span of about 300 meters and five minutes I encountered four churches, but no Fairfax Street. But seriously, four? And all of them ginormous and beautiful gothic sandstone structures, with any number of tall lead glass windows, slated roofs, raised gardens, turrets, steeples and annexes. All stuffed into one little area. Fantastic. Eventually, I found my way back to the route I usually walk, having taking no shortcut whatsoever. Also, that day, after the first laundry, I lost a sock. Which doesn’t surprise me at all.

Then came Thursday and we went to the Black Swan, a beautiful half-timbered pub, dating from the 15th century. Formerly home to various mayors and generals, and complete with a secret passage to the nearby church (in case you were running late on Sunday) and residential ghosts. We’d heard there would be folk music, which it wasn’t as such (but they have other Thursdays where they do. We just happened to be there on the Open House night when everyone can go and have a go on stage). The place was lovely. We got some drinks and headed upstairs and entered a room with ancient wood-panelled walls, heavy, red, satin curtains, old, stuffed chairs, a sagging, heavy-beamed, white-plastered ceiling with cast-iron chandeliers casting a soft, warm glow over the whole thing. Pardon my adjectives, but it was just so... English, you know? Behind the stage was a tapestry with a king on a throne under the sun and moon on a golden background. This is where the musicians played. It was very varied. Some of the songs were lovely; ballads of fishermen, wakes and marriages, while others (the married couple with flutes and the please-don’t-sing-another-chorus voice). There was a Scotsman singing and a poet with a funny story of University life in the 60s, and, to top it all off, at the end the transvestite Gloria. Most of the performers were old men (in fact, the average hairstyle in the entire room was grey and balding), but I think this made it all the jollier. No one was afraid to make an arse of themselves, people would spontaneously join in on the singing and most were very funny as well. I only wish I had brought my camera, but maybe we will return!

Oh, I was at Marks & Spencer today. Brilliant store! They have so much good stuff! It reminds me of Holland’s Albert Heijn. To my delight I found they do shepherd’s pies and Yorkshire puddings and such like. If you are my age and live in England you’ll probably question this... But after reading a lot of Discworld novels which are heavily inspired by British customs and culture, I was happily surprised to find some of the food stuffs mentioned there in M&S. And there’s lots more, but I won’t bore you with that! Suffice it to say that I’m glad Katrine is here with me as she functions as my check-and-balance system food-wise...

Well, there we are then. This weekend will be heavy on the reading for both of us, but I’ll be sure to report anything interesting on the blag.

Cheers!