The flora of Fritwell, the oh-dang of Oxford

Ah, the oldest academic institution in the *English-speaking* world. In Oxford, I walked along the 3 miles, yeah, 3 miles of books in Blackwell's Books. I saw the colleges, took pictures of the tops of pretty buildings. But you've seen that before. I prefer this accurate portrait of the town:


I loved knowing that even Rhodes Scholars honk on rust.


And can you guess which language I speak?


Did you know that J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis were chums who drank ale together every Tuesday, discussing their latest writings?


I sat and discussed my next meal (fish and chips and tea) where they sat in the Eagle and Child.

I met up with the lovely Linda, my grandpa's cousin (we decided the name for us should be grand-cousins) and spent the night and Sunday in the village of Fritwell.



Fritwell is the kind of place with houses built in the 1500s.


Where you wish you wrote, spoke, ate, drank, poetry. So we tried, at breakfast.


Can I be a crumpet, soaking up the honey and butter of morning? Or a blackberry, between teeth and lips, ten seconds of tart explosions?


Fritwell's villagers opened their backyard gates for the yearly garden walk. The British heap flowers upon flowers upon pink, blue and red flowers.



Their topiaries just need a little icing and sprinkles, although the owner of this Manor may have had more regal ideas in mind.


Foxgloves guarded poppies, protecting tissue paper petals from eager sun.


These babies were the most welcoming of all the guests, as they leaped, dream-style, baaaaing for our cuddles.


Such a trying day needs a spot of tea and sponge cake.



So that we could trek on, and fall down the rabbit hole. (Did you know that Lewis Carroll was inspired by scenes around here and wrote Alice in Wonderland in Oxford?)


And I peered through the day, the trees, the time to breathe in the green and the calm and the quiet respect of village life.

How I walked to work plus other tidbits

The jaunt to work was rather a hike (45 minutes), but I did notice hundreds of eyes peering at me from standstill buses, bumper to bus butt all along the road.


This doesn't relate, but this morning, I quite enjoyed one of those little type-the-word things you have to do when posting links. Check out what I had to write:

In other news, I think I'm becoming a bag lady. When I looked in my purse this morning after a fun night out with Caitlin (we went to a press release party for a festival...details to come), I found the typical notes and scraps of paper that I always collect in the street.

But, in my purse, I also had a tomato.

Bube Tube Dude Strike.

Romantic, efficient.
The tube, the tube, the tube.
England loves transportation.

And workers love to vocalize 5 percent pay increase desires.
A strike, a strike, a strike.

Strike, transportation. These don't pair like beer and curry.

I usually take the Hammersmith and City from Farringdon to Aldgate East to get to work.

Now, what will I do? Walk? Work on my computer in my most very favorite coffee shop, Paul?

Photo courtesy of Alex Farris. That's me, Rachel and Sam perplexed on the tube. When it was working. Now it is broken because the workers made it that way. That's not really true, but I like the tube a lot. Riding it makes me feel less guilty about having a car at home. And I like that the Piccadilly line ends at "Cockfosters." And I also really like to look at the old women and business men and white girls with treacherous looking heels. And I like to accidentally grab people's hands in an awkward fashion when reaching for the bar. And I also like to repeat after the machine woman who says "mind the gap." My accent isn't convincing unless I say, "Mind the Gap, Ski-uhls! (Skittles)."

Come on strikers, my mom told me peace is possible.

Share the London Love

Bubble surprises at Camden Market. CJ Lotz.

The glorious Caitlin Van Kooten is visiting before her own study abroad in Dublin. We overwhelmed our senses at the Camden market and saw all the touristy wonders as well.

Leaning Tower of Big Ben + Parliament. CJ Lotz.

Some recent work at Mute, the magazine where I intern:

A short piece critical of turning "organic" urban gardening into a complicated trend

A short bit + article about the Tarnac Nine. Really interesting discussion of using fear as a weapon, especially in France.

Blooms

Lunch hour, exploration of future story ideas. I took a stroll down Brick Lane, past the curry shops, past the cheap fabric stores and painted panels,


took a right at Buxton Street, gandered through the footballers in the park. Then I glimpsed mammoth Queen Anne's Lace and signs encouraging my steps

all the way to Spitalfields city farm. First I found vegetables, the best kind.



Then I saw my worries sprouting away in the hard drive.



Children and their mamas lunched and watered their herbs.



And even the broken found a place.




As I rambled, I found all kinds of puppies (animals). Some ate oats, some ate scraps, some said baaaaaaaaaa, others were guinea pigs and some couldn't see because they were too stylish.


Others were sly, seductive, upfront about their desires.



Then I jotted back to Whitechapel, back past the curry, into the cardamom, but with the memory of earth whiffs and basil. I found it hard to distinguish thought and sky.

Found in London

I found a "find" today,

A drawing of an engine.

I found a "find" yesterday too,

A note from a drama instructor to her student about rescheduling rehersal.

I love leaning over in the middle of the sidewalk to pick up a scrap of paper that may be a doodle or awkward middle school love letter.

As soon as I find a scanner, I'll show some of my London finds.

For now, check out the inspiration:

foundmagazine.com

Paul Farmer + Obama = Paurack Fabama = Yes.

Paul Farmer is the man. His idea of bringing Harvard-quality medicine to the poorest places (Like Haiti) revolutionized the way the medical world treats the world's needy. There's talk of him taking a place in the new administration. I say, good move. Farmer is young, compassionate and bright, and if there is a surge in AIDS relief money, I'd like to see Farmer in charge of it.

Paul Farmer and Obama