June 2007 Archives

First endless rain and flooding, now a [defused] bomb...what's next? I think it was the Telegraph that said: why does it seem like the end of the Blair era is coinciding with the end of the world?

Actually, none of these happenings have affected me very much, except perhaps in the expected rise in food prices as a result of flood-damaged crops. And I won't be able to use the Piccadilly Circus stop for some time.

I probably shouldn't complain that my seasons this year have been all topsy-turvy (a warm December, a snowless winter, a cold and rainy spring and summer). At least my home hasn't been destroyed by water. But I am missing the hot weather they're having back in the states. Summer, where have you gone? And how are they supposed to have Wimbledon without you?

My real trial-by-fire has been working in a British office. I've got to learn how to say "cheers" when getting off the phone. At least I don't have David Brent for a boss.

P.S. I want to put a plug in for the way the Irish express themselves. They are blunt without being mean-spirited. They will tell you the truth but somehow you know they aren't conspiring against you. I want to master that art. I have been trying to master it my whole life. Perhaps I should have stayed in Ireland and learned it from them.

"60% of Christians are chicks, and the 40% that are dudes are still sort of...chicks."

I don't agree with everything that Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill Church, says here. But I do think that CCM has been one major culprit in the church's "masculinity crisis."

(By the way, I want to go his church! wink, wink)

Last night we went to Shakespeare's Globe theater to see Othello, performed there for the very first time. It was magical.

I remember loving this play when I read it in college, but I've never seen it. There's no better stage to see Shakespeare than the Globe. Finished in 1997, it is an authentic tribute to the original Globe theater.

Fortunately, the five of us who went together all got seats - many people stood for all 3.5 hours. But they got the benefit of dodging Iago, Cassio, Rodrigo and Co. every time they ran through the crowd with torches. Some folks leaned up against the stage and could likely feel Othello's breath as he seethed about the innocent Desdemona whilst crouching behind the pillar. The play was well-acted and the story moving, although the audience seemed to think it was funny more than anything. For some odd reason, many folks laughed at inopportune times, most notably when Desdemona cries out "Kill me tomorrow!" while Othello is strangling her. I was horrified. Moreover, the curtain call involved the entire cast dancing a jig. A bit strange after all the carnage, but I suppose that's their way of including comic relief.

Yesterday was a big day in other ways, as we got to meet and talk to two notable people, Sir Christopher Meyer and Kate Adie. Sir Christopher is Britain's former ambassador to the US. He was the one who introduced George W. Bush to Tony Blair and forged the relationship that would carry them to war together. He was friends with Cheney, Rove, Condi, and "Scooter" Libby. He supported the war at the time but now sees that it has "destroyed Blair's premiership and his legacy." I wanted to ask him more about this, but we mostly talked about British vs. American media. He is the chairman of the Press Complaints Commission here, a sort of self-regulating system that we don't have in the states. He also wears red socks every day. A charming fellow and a lively discussion.

Kate Adie is the former chief news reporter for the BBC. She got her big break reporting on the bombing of the Iranian embassy just a few blocks away from where we are now. Since then she's gone to the front lines of many wars and conflicts, including the Gulf War and Kosovo, and had many attempts made on her life (attempted stranglings, a knife to her throat, and an AK-47 pointed at her nose). Snarky, snappy and sharp would be the words to describe her: she distrusts the Internet and is old-skool in her ways of thinking about journalism. But her street-cred is off the charts so I'll let her have whatever opinion she wants.

Quite the busy day. Now I must focus on papers, finals, and Ireland next weekend to visit some Cherrys.

Stranger than visiting new and interesting places is going back to places you haven't been to in years and discovering how your memory holds up to the reality. That place for me right now is England. Six years ago I was here with my sisters and parents in the dead of winter for three months. Now it is summer, and the aura is quite different. The sun is brighter and out longer. The fashion is billowy and light. The flowers are in bloom and Hyde Park displays lush, thick green grass and uneven rows of sturdy trees like columns in a cathedral.

I've found that certain memories of mine are correct, like the Thornton's Toffee store in Covent Garden, and the placement of the monument that leads to the Eagle and Child in Oxford. But my memory has tricked me in other ways, like when I confused the reading room at the British Museum with the Bodleian Library. Nonetheless, it's been delightful to see places and things again that I remember from six years ago, and to see them in the longer daylight hours. We spent the weekend with Keri, touring around to all the major London sights. We laughed at various signs, such as this one:

We goggled at the beauty of Christchurch meadow:

We ate some excellent pub grub at The Longacre:

All in all, a weekend not to be forgotten. Unless my memory tricks me again.

Of course, I've been doing other activities as well, such as taking classes with two good British professors (one cynical about UK politics, the other overly positive about the British media), and visiting Anna and Lauri in Brussels, where we got to see both of their flats, visit Brugge, walk a lot, eat, drink, and converse. As Emily or Drew Belz might say, too much richness.