A London Journey
April 16 - April 18


 



Evening, April 16

Home from Stratford, Peter’s daughter Fran was there, preparing dinner – roast chicken and potatoes and carrots – green salad, and gooseberry fool with strawberries for desert.  (Peter called her on his mobile from the train – said he was betting on spaghetti, but hung up the phone saying it was cheese sandwiches – all sounded fine to me, but the roast chicken was quite wonderful.)

Like the boys, Fran is bright, articulate, friendly, pretty – she’s in university at Bristol, in English actually, but with a strong interest in theatre, and pumped up about a festival she and a drama group from school had been to – carrying back awards and other good results, including a sponsorship by the festival sponsors of a week’s performance at the Edinburgh Festival this summer.  We drank way too much wine and I went to bed at 11:30 – it was hard to get up this morning.

But – I did – managed to get the train and actually found my way to Euston and on – triumph!  At Michael’s class, I asked students what I should take back to the UW.  They were more talkative in the morning than in the afternoon at Roger'’ class -–maybe because he was there.  They had some good things to offer, but that one girl – who seems to have been picked out as the “sourfaced anorexic one,” responded that it would have been good if we’d warned here what constituted a “long” vs. a “short” phone call.  She’d been chastized by her homestay family when, after being told “you can use the phone, but don’t stay on it too long,” she talked to her boyfriend for an hour (I certainly hope he called her!)  Sheesh – someone needs to be told an hour is a long call???  (When I told David McCracken after running in to him later at the British Library, he figured – rightly, I think – that she was pissed that someone had been pissed at her and was looking for someone – other than herself – to blame.)  She is a piece of work.  (Guess she berated Peter for not booking good-enough seats in Stratford and he called her a cow after she left, not seeing the other students listening and giggling till later.  Don’t know if they knew how bad an insult that is, but they clearly got the gist of things.)


Reading the day's news for Michael's class

So – that was my official departmental junket.  Michael had two homeless people in his class this morning – hard to understand their accents – a man (34 years old; Geoff) and a woman (24; Joanne).  I bought a copy of the Big Issue outside the train station this morning in preparation.  Met two more salesmen this afternoon.  (And later found out it’s sold in Norwich and other cities as well.)

Went to the Goose and Granite for lunch – lasagna and bitter – went back to the British Library this afternoon – ran into David McCracken, off doing research (!) – bought and had shipped six mugs – for the advisers and Nick and me – that should be the end of presents, right?  I really haven’t bought much for myself – Harrod’s cat mug and bag; blue stone and pewter pendant from Warwick; buncha Pitkin guides and couple other books – most everything else has been presents – spent a lot, but don’t feel too bad under the circumstances.

So now I’m back at Peter’s, and I’m beginning to see what the students were saying about personal space and sound – Peter’s out – I think till tomorrow; Fran is at her mum’s; John’s on a pub crawl; but Ollie (the 15 year old) has several of his friends in – one just dropped in to my room to use the loo – obviously had no idea I was here.  And I hear them in the kitchen and living room – small house, thin walls, lots of people, not the kind of privacy we’re used to – for me it’s a few days; for the students, it’s much longer and must indeed take getting used to.  How do we warn and prepare them without scaring them off?

The student are all off on their week holiday – Roger and Dorothy and David too (David to the south and Cornwall, Roger and Dorothy to Scotland – Inverness and Mull – Dorothy and I talked about my experiences in those spots – she seemed surprised and interested that I could compare Scotland to Eastern Washington).  Tomorrow I’m going in to the Tourist Center and market in St. Alban’s – maybe try to mail some of those Pitkin guides – I guess a Post Office is right around the corner from the Indian restaurant.

I want to find out when Hatfield House is open – and I’m wondering about a day return to Brighton  Monday or Friday – Sunday will probably be St. Alban’s historical walk – and Tuesday I leave for Norwich . . . don’t know whether I’ll come back Thursday or Friday – I’m going to have things to take back to Seattle, and be able to feel more at home in England.

Later that night (16 April 1999)

Went into the kitchen and made a chicken sandwich and ended up chatting with a couple of Ollie'’ friends -–great basketball fans, of all things.  Wanted to know if I “support” the Seattle SuperSonics.  One boy had been to Florida and seemed amazed that Seattle’s weather was more like the UK’s.  Nice boys.  All seemed very interested in talking to this strange American lady who popped up at their friend’s house.  When I was ready to really go to bed, I stuck my head in the living room where they all were gathered, and said good night – and asked them to please use the other loo’s now.



18 April 1999

Sunday morning, Peter and offspring are off to buy new mobile phones for the boys and take recycling along with – the recycle station is at the phone place – no recycle pick-up, so it’s a commitment to principle that makes them go.

So – yesterday – Saturday – I took a box of books to the little post office around the corner to mail home.  L19!!!  Surface!!!  And then set out for town.

Stopped at the tourist center and picked up some post cards and books (!) and wandered a bit through the market.  Bought a doughnut and scone (the scone was round like a biscuit; the lumpy ones were “rock cakes.”)  I bought a ripe pear to eat, and a wonderful faded black denim hat.  I found Past Times but didn’t buy anything – I get their catalogue after all – and a branch of Edinburgh Woolen Mill, which was a huge disappointment – mostly spring ladies’ things – I guess they don’t sell the Scottish tourist stuff in St. Albans. ?  So no new Scottish gloves or hat. ?

I wandered on down the road.  Found the cathedral – lingered in the Vintry Garden, then walked along a path through a graveyard to the West Front.  Sat for a long time on a bench reading my Pitkin guide and taking it in -–the site, the Roman site below, the very mixed history of the spot – still didn’t realize till I got back and read through a book of old photos how much of the cathedral was Victorian restoration.

Inside there were wall paintings, discovered when Restoration plaster was removed – Norman arches, Perpendicular and Decorated arches – quite wonderful things.  I followed a church tour around, then waited for 4:00 evensong -–the guest choir had been practicing the whole time.  I perhaps should have sat outside in the nave, rather than in the choir, as the contemplation I’d hoped for was impinged on by the presence of other worshippers, following the order of service, etc.  And a view of a 19th-century window rather than that long stretch of old old stone.  But it was a simple, lovely service with very beautiful music and a nice organ prelude and postlude.

Left for home but stopped near a little antique store.  Saw [contemporary] Staffordshie dogs in the window – so I went in and saw numerous china cats like the one I bought in Windsor – and then there were Staffordshire cats!  I bought a pair of cats and a pair of dogs – L30!!  Will have to take them home in hand luggage I think.

I got back to Peter’s – had been out all day.  We sat and talked (he was ironing!).  Then had “an” aperatif.  Two bottles of wine later he made dinner (cheese and spinich pie, smoked salmon mousse – yummm!, applecrisp (what did they call it?  apple crumble) for dessert.  Late dinner and I took myself off to bed.

I’ve spent more cash than I’d realized and I have to do something about that – I’m also buying too many books, even the few I’ve got, and carrying them home will be awful, and mailing them home will be expensive.  Got to use some sense here.

Have thought of going to Hatfield House on the bus today, but right now I feel very lethargic – I’s been a week, and going nearly all the time – maybe when Peter takes Fran back to Bristol this afternoon, I’ll stay put and read the paper.

Oh yes—an interesting conversation with Peter this morning on the British educational system.  Students in pre-college programmes “apply” to various colleges through a central clearing house.  They ask for info on schools and “courses” (much more defined and narrow than our “major” plus general ed requirements – they don’t do general ed at all). and they send back to the clearing house a list of five choices.  Their teachers “forecast” what grades they will get on three A-level exams they’ll take at the end of their last year – and the schools send back offers (or not) contingent on their getting certain grades (i.e., AAB with one A in English; or ABC, or DDD, etc.) – the schools can (a) make an offer; (b) reject; (c) ask for an interview or (d) offer and interview.

If a student wants to do Engineering or pure science, s/he is very much in demand – and doesn’t necessarily have to have any science in his background – many engineering schools are set up to do “from the beginning” math/science courses to bring students up to speed in an accelerated first year.  Engineering and science are not prestigious. English and history are!  Pure arts!  Sunuvagun!  Ten applicants for every one place in English.!

The university coursework is very narrowly prescribed – few electives; no general ed or breadth requirements – you study what you study.  And, if partway through, say, Economics, you realize it’s a mistake and you hate it, you have to go all the way back to the beginning of another “course” providing they’ll let you in.  Or you finish up Econ and get your undergraduate degree, then convince a graduate program you can do a master’s program in, say, English – one year, an MA in English, and you’re qualified in English.  Or, of course, you fail that year.

Exams are externally monitored – your tutor does not read your exam.  There’s a strong attempt for consistency and uniformity of result – an A here should be the same as an A there.  This is true of high school and college.  At a college where there’s a “coursework” program (which is not the rule) – where you’re graded on your individual courses right then and there – there is still double marking – your tutor and another each read your paper independently.

Much of what Peter does is read and mark A-level (high school) exams.  He’s an independent contractor, not working for the system on any salaried basis.

I see plusses and minuses in both systems – and I think we both think the other is bonkers.