The London Bandwagon

Have I just jumped on it?

My family left me at the airport on Saturday night and I had just settled down for a good bout of depression/homesickness before actually getting on the plane when into the little airport bar walked an old friend from Saltus who I haven't seen or spoken to pretty much since I left - about nine years ago. Within about five minutes we had picked up the friendship completely where it left off, most notably when we were reduced to schoolgirl giggles in Gatwick as two heavily, heavily armed security guards strolled towards us. I took it as a good omen.

Granted she's off to do a Masters outside of London, but still. She's nearby. Saltus reunions with other alumni in London are already being planned.

Then, this morning, walking out of res to go meet GS, a voice near the door stopped me in my tracks: "Bermy??"

Only people from SEA or from Queen's ever call me Bermy. I froze, then turned to find myself face to face with Toin - a fringe friend from The North who had been really close friends with several of my really close friends in K-Town. For a second we both stared at each other in utter amazement - I'd never even considered the fact that I might see her again. Filling each other in on the last three years she informed me that another old friend of ours was living in the city centre, while good ol' Shaner was coming in to town from Cambridge next week to visit. (The stories are true, he is doing his PhD at Cambridge. He really is a smart f^*!) I'd never even dreamed of seeing him again either. "I don't even know what campus I'm on right now," she said. "Do you realise that everyone is in London this year? This is the place to be!"

We fell to discussing it, and it's true. People from all areas of my life are either in London or within easy reach of London in a way they never have been before. If only London were on a sub-tropical sea mount about 700 miles from Cape Hatteras, life would be perfect - except then it wouldn't be so close to Europe. Is London really, as Toin said, the place to be?

While we're at it, Literary London is just killing me so far. Wandering down Gray's Inn Road yesterday I found myself at King's Cross, and had to actually refrain myself from going inside to look for platform 9 3/4. Dickens' house is nearby, and also just meandered down Fleet Street. It's all just too much.

If only la familia were here - WAGs!

Mecca

I was strangely apathetic in the lead-up to The Big Leaving this time around. There were no heartstopping "what the fuck am I doing" moments, no wild flights of fancy, nothing. Moving in to an inter-collegiate hall of residence? Whatever, it's just another TCS. All the same emphases on getting involved, on an international atmosphere, on the alumni community, same ivy-covered brick walls, blah blah blah. Been there, done that. Heading to spend a year in one of the world's cities? A global centre? Yeah, just got back from Buenos Aires. Paris of the South, baby. More people than London. Yawn. Saying good bye to all the friends and family once more? Yeah, been doing that for nine years, and already made the big break with home back in May, so this time around was nothing. Off to become a hellfire radical at a world renowned university? They mock the LSE a lot on Yes Minister. It sounds like it's right up my alley, but it's also not like I don't have some pretty amazing educational experiences behind me also. I am a very lucky person.

In fact, it wasn't until I was reading a sheet of tips and advice from a dear and thoughtful friend who lived in this hall last year that I suddenly got an inkling of what this all would mean. In it she mentioned the Globe Theatre, and English Major Sarah jerked awake. What? The Globe? You mean, the Globe? Like, Shakespeare's Globe?

Like the actual ground on which Will walked?

Obviously I knew it was all there, but it didn't really hit me until she said make sure you go to the Globe. It was like following the Raptors for years at Trinity and Queen's and then, years later, actually going to see a game at the Air Canada Centre. You couldn't believe they were down there running around on that court, real people, not just characters on TV. When I read Jennygarl's advice, all of a sudden, I realised. I'm going to England. Hardy's England. Chaucer's England. Arthur Conan Doyle's England. T. S. Eliot worked for a couple of decades just off Russell Square - had I just done this 40 years ago we could have been neighbours. Well, sort of. Could you even imagine having T. S. Eliot as your neighbour? George Orwell lived here. George Eliot. The Bronte sisters, Charles Dickens, Christopher Marlowe.

It's been two years since I left Queen's - wait, no it hasn't. It's been three. Good grief. And now I'm about to embark on my Diet Coke version of International Relations - more economics and politics (and of course history) and sociology and cultural studies and so on. Then hopefully some more journalism at the end of it all.

But, study what I might, do what I will, I will always be an English Major at heart. So coming to London, to England - this is my mecca. This is my Graceland.

What a nerd. I obviously can't give this blog address to anyone in England cuz no one will want to be friends with such a nerd.

Which brings me to the point: I'm in England!

Junk Blog Comments?

Where the heck are all these crappy junk blog comments coming from? Script writing and business life insurance and Texas Holdem poker? And they're so condescending, too. "I wish I could write like you ... come learn about business life insurance!" Are you kidding. My blog was junk-comment-free down in Argentina. Is this just a North American server thing? Is there any way to block them? Why do the damn capitalists have to take over everything?

Hmmm, maybe all those who have expressed concern about my school of choice were right. Maybe I will come back a communist!

Poor Dr. B

I'd decided to give myself a week to absorb all the joy and goodwill surrounding the BIC report before actually saying anything out loud - well, anything out loud to anyone other than friends and family, of course.

Even after a week's perspective though, I'm still thinking it: Poor Dr. B.

I know this debacle is driving him nuts. It has to be. He must have sat there at that press conference in Cabinet last Thursday and listened to The Man informing us all that, among other things, the Commission found "in no instance" any examples of a country going independent via referendum, and thought: Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!

Speaking of which, I'm still furious with myself for not asking that question at the press conference. As soon as he said it, I thought, huh? That's not right ... If only I could've thought of an example off the top of my head! (Duh, Bermuda, you idiot.) What a wonderful press conference that could have been had I had before me a list printed off the internet of countries that have gone independent via referendum. Unfortunately I did not expect such a declaration (who would have?), and so was completely unprepared. It just seemed so blatantly dumb that I honestly thought it had to be a typo, or taken completely out of context, or something.

Back to good doctor, though. Here's the thing. Dr. B wants to rule the world. (Ok, just an independent Bermuda.) Actually I shouldn't say that - I've never heard from his own mouth his stance on independence. I would assume he wants it, of course, but I've never actually heard him say it. (Then again I haven't been paying attention for THAT long.) The point is, I know he wants The Man's job. That, I have heard him say.

But unless the Guvment does something uber drastic to turn public perception around - like complete a capital project or educate our workforce for the jobs available to them or start helicoptering West Enders in to town in the mornings so they can avoid traffic - I really don't think they'll be back next time round. (I'm still not convinced the UBP are all that much better, but at least they managed to build a school. I'm also fairly sure they didn't manage to insult 14,000 registered voters at once by stating "they didn't know what they were signing". This from The Man who had the BIC report for an entire month and didn't notice the "in no instance referendum" detail.)

For his faults, the good doctor is a smart man, and surely he must see what damage is being done to his party right now, just as clearly as he sees the process of sovereignty being set back a generation - all under Alex Scott's watch.

Or, maybe he's not that smart. After all, as previously noted the entire Cabinet had the BIC report for an entire month before releasing it to the public, and none of them appeared to pick up on the glaring little details that most people registered the first time they glanced at it. Who's driving this train anyway?

We'll assume he is a smart man, however. Therefore the BIC debacle especially must be driving him nuts because the entire time he's watching it all play out, he's thinking: I could be doing this sooooooooooo much better.

With the clock ticking down on this term though, he only has about two years left - if that - to take over The Man's position and start doing things the Pop and Sizzle way. If they go into an election and lose, Dr. B and the rest of the PLP will be relegated to politcal Siberia once more and he can kiss the Premiership good bye - for another five years at least. And let's not even talk about how long it will be before anyone dares to bring up independence again - if the current push for it fails, that is.

So I'm quite sure Dr. B is feeling very, very frustrated right now.

Party conferences coming up soon ... What I wouldn't give to be a fly on the wall at both!

Damn You, Time

There it goes, running out again.

This used to be my playground

Well Hurricane Nate spared us but even so, here it is a Sunday night and I'm back home: once again eating take out from Portofino's at the RG.

Don't cry for me, Argentina.

I was weak. I couldn't say no. I even suggested that I work a few shifts, hurricane or no hurricane. Ok, I am a poor student and do need the money, but still. What could have possessed me?

So here I am with Big Stu, listening to the familiar refrains of singing (or something like that) coming from over at the sub-editors' desk. My own desk has been commandeered by another reporter and, even though he is not working tonight and my old chair beckons me sadly, I just couldn't sit there. Not even though the navigational star chart I once printed out and stuck on my bulletin board is still there (is this other reporter interested in the stars also or does he just never clean my desk? My poor desk! What has he done to you!). Instead I took Sweater's old desk right next to mine - a move which proved to be ill thought out as, although I clearly gave those I contacted this evening Sweater's number, they all nevertheless called me back on my old number at my old desk. I might as well have just sat at my old desk. Yes, life here is still an exercise in futility.

As has the sub on duty, I have also been impressed with my sheer incompetence tonight. I can no longer log on to SaxoPress and therefore can no longer access my online little black book with all my contacts' numbers in it (the phone book is useless, why do they even bother to print it? And where did I get all those magic numbers from in the first place?). But even so. It's pretty amazing how stupid three months of empanadas and Harry Potter in Spanish can make you. Surviving in Argentina as a vegetarian does take a certain amount of resourcefulness, but apparently it's not the same kind of resourcefulness I used to rely on as a reporter. Hopefully I won't need reporter resourcefulness in grad school, because if so I might as well pack it in right now.

Which reminds me. GS and I have discovered who one of our fellow students will be: Monica Lewinsky. Yes, The Monica Lewinsky. We definitely have to make friends with her. I'd love to hear that girl's story from her own mouth!

Incoming!

Back on the Rock and whaddya know, it's really hot up here. (Yes, everyone, I know I'm pale. Duh, I've been in Patagonia. Southern hemisphere? Reversal of the seasons? Snowball fight on Cup Match? There you go.)

Naturally it's all been procrastinating-as-usual so clearly haven't even mentally drafted my posts on Re-entry, The Return of the Fu, Catholicism and You: Know Thy Enemy, or My Friends Are So Incredibly Brilliant And Genius At Carrying Off A Fake Wedding And I'm So Proud Of Them. Which reminds me, for those who haven't yet seen Tony and Tina's Wedding at the Hamilton Princess, I HIGHLY recommend you go. Honestly. It wasn't just fun because three of our friends have roles in it, including the lead (yeah Tony!), it really just was the best wedding I have ever been to. (It counts even though it was a fake wedding.) And next week is GS's last week as Tony, so get your tickets ASAP!

Where was I. Oh yeah, the point is now that Hurricane Nate is strolling towards us, I've been drafted back on to Hurricane Watch at the Gazette, and I still have about four loads of laundry to do before the power goes out tomorrow, I won't be catching up anytime soon. Yup, the RG. I tried not to go back but I couldn't help it. It really is pathetic how much I miss That Place. Especially considering (as Sweater pointed out repeatedly) I'm really not missing much. Fortunately Aquamania is keeping me too busy to go back to Da Newz Kru full-time (save me from myself!).

So I just quickly wanted to say that, despite the hurricanes and awful steaminess (how I miss Buenos Aires suddenly) and bouncers at the Wine Cellar who tell me it's too full to let me in (I just left five minutes ago to get money and it was half empty, not to mention I can see it's empty through the door, asshole) and all the usual conflicting feelings about being tossed back up on the Rock, it IS good to be home. It's really, really good to be home.

Now, to stock up on the batteries, canned food, and propane ... bring it on, Nate!