PHOTOS - Holywell Manor and some room items

Top: A view of the rear of Holywell Manor. The Manor is the graduate part of Balliol College, and about 10 minutes walk from the main site. I infact live in an offshoot of the manor, in the Dellal Building, which doesn't warrant a photograph. The Manor was included in the Doomesday Book, which makes it several hundreds of years old.

Middle: The BBQ had seen better days. I don't think the English have any idea how to use it. 'Well mum, it seems that we put the fish in the bottom part and the chips on the grill.'

Bottom: The South Wing of Holywell Manor.

Top: Assorted Mugs abbreviated in an interesting way.

Bottom: I know what a fitted sheet is, Mrs Grant.

Letters to the Editor: The start with Sir, here. Dad, can you see that catching on at QN?
The largest sponge I have seen in my life. These are required to clean out 25kg mortar and pestles. It is called THE BIG BOSS, and I would have thought myself less of a man had I not bought it.

PHOTOS - Balliol from the inside and the grounds

Plenty of turrets, merlons and crenels at Bailley, and indeed at most of the old colleges.

The grounds: there are about 4 or 5 full time groundsmen who keep the place tidy. A chestnut falls on the ground and they swoop in, removing it and smoothing out the grass on the point of impact. Balliol is one of the few colleges which allows people to walk on the grass. I think we went through a liberal phase in the 1880s with maverick masters who abolished high table dinners and sought a more equal existence. There are still the lawyer-types around who complain about the extravagance at Balliol. I try to point them to the monastery up the road if they want simplicity.

PHOTOS - some Oxford Architecture

Top: A look down Broad Street: The Sheldonian Theatre and the former Ashmolean Museum, which is now the Museum for Science.
Middle: The Old Bodleian Library up close [not the one with the plaque].

Bottom: The Sheldonian Theatre up close, and a truck. Why would he get in the way of my picture?


Top: There are some heads, (The 13, or 14 Caesars, I can never remember how many) around the Sheldonian Theatre. They are watching over it, keeping out the heeby jeebys or something to that effect.
Bottom: The Tower of St Michael of the North Gate, nearly 1000 years old. This is Oxford's oldest building and was built by William the Conquerer as part of his network of town defences across the country [I may or may not have got that piece directly from a brochure, who's to say?]

PHOTOS - Room, plaque and MCR

Top: All the important items in the one area: photos, rum, weetabix (which taste more like cardboard that weet-bix does), Laws of cricket.

Middle: A view from my room, they have a cricket field and a soccer pitch (that is to say, the cricket square is not on the soccer pitch... plenty of room in Oxford.)

Bottom: My room in the ground state. [A joke you see, it is on the ground floor... and it is like this after the least amount of energy, hence the ground state... I don't have to impress you.]

Top: The plaque on the Bodleian Library [pronounced Bod-lee-uhn]. I make it out to read: Here the first stone of the new Bodlein Building was placed by Queen Mary, mother of King George VI On June 25th 1937. There you go, two years of Latin has proved useful... in... deciphering plaques.... damn.

Bottom: The Middle Common Room [MCR]. There is a portrait of James I above the fireplace, that's right, a fireplace.

PHOTOS some buildings

Top: Rhodes House: With all their money and prestige and lowsy late selection dates which makes it impossible for someone to…. Ahem. Look at the grass, it is MCG grass. Bastards.

Above: The museum of Natural History. There are large (fullscale?) footprints outside of a dinosaur. This is one of the few grass lawns in Oxford on which you can run without being beaten with sticks.

No updates? Whatever do you mean?

Alright, well. Let us forget that there have been no updates for a few weeks. It is not as if I didn't TRY, well... maybe that is part of it. But in my defence I did try, twice in fact, to post a comprehensive summary or my events, but each time I was called away, once by phone, once by my scout - who cleans my room you see, I should have yelled: Not now Perkins, damnit man! - and each time I was 'timed out' in this window, and so it all disappeared into the ether.

Well then, here we are.

Some highlights of this week (remember that we are treating the weeks prior to this as having been ether-ised):

• First rugby match for Balliol. I was playing the the JCR team [The Junior Common Room, which consists of all the undergraduates and postgraduates, as distinct from the MCR, the Middle CR which is just the postgraduates. So the JCR team is mainly for the undergraduates (I refuse to say the new people or young'uns) but some graduates (again, not old people, perhaps veterans though?) are allowed to play] as there is no MCR team. We played the more valliant game, the higher, swifter, stronger game, but despite all of our Olympian ideals we were hammered 49-nil. I screamed onto the field from the bench in the second half, just the sort of Antipodean injection the team needed at that stage. But inspite of all excessive pace, darting runs and thunderous tackes, we still were defeated. It was all in good fun though. [I will follow this post with some pictures.]
• First stint with the Balliol Chapel Choir. 'Pon my word this was certainly one of those good times. There is an organ, built in around 1800, which overhangs the back of the congregation and when it plays the ground almost opens up. We sang the standard selection of hymns, but no one told me that it was customary for everyone to sing in unison with the tune for the first and last verse and to do it in parts in the middle verses. I'm there singing away thinking, "Gee, I'm really out of touch, I'm nowhere near the others." During the sermon I tuned out and tried to read the inscription on a plaque on the other side of the chapel. The writing was quite small and in Latin, so that proved an interesting diversion for a good twenty minutes. Every now and again I would be able to make out a word and think of the Engligh equivalent in the one hit. When such an epiphany happened I started to let out a sigh of understanding: 'Ahhh... so that's what that is..., or Ahh of course....' The bloke beside me thought I was really interested in the sermon and asked me afterwards to explain some of the more delicate points. Not wanting to disappoint him I said, 'Well it's all a complex issue. There is one school of thought which says... oh look is that the time, I best be going.'
• Playing a pub quiz game. Here they have little arcade machines on which you can win money. So you pop in 50p and you can play Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, or some other sort of trivia. And if you get enough questions right or become a level 27 Jedi Master you can collect up to £20. Enticing no? A few of us went out on Monday and initially invested £2 in the machine, then another £2. Then we won £10... but thought that the makers of this game have hungry children to feed, and who are we to deny them of their supper money? So we promptly reinvested... and suffice it to say that these kids will infact be eating a three course meal for dinner thanks to us. As we were leaving, someone grabbed me and said: 'You're Australian... quick, answer this question.' He pointed on the screen and I had 10 seconds to answer: T/F Perth is the capital of West Australia. I did a double take... West Australia? Surely not. No, couldn't possibly be. Unless there was some naming convention where we all just call it 'Western' Australia. No, no I thought [all in 8 seconds you see] it must be false. And in true English style, the correct answer was true. I couldn't believe it. The bloke who called me over was seeing daggers as I had lost him a pound with that answer. I tried to explain... all that came out [as I had been at the pub for a few hours] was 'Western, Western, WESTERRRNNN!'
• QUODs for this week:

1. Life is tough in Cambridge in the 3rd Year. In the 3rd year they have to learn things. FRI - Prof Charles Batty telling it like it is.
2. Do you think that Oxford has a degree of pretension about it. SAT - Ben, a mate of mine, asking a senior don this question at High Table. The don was not impressed.
3. No, not gay: camp, we don't say gay in the theatre. SUN - Amy the director of Ruddigore, the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta in which I'm involved. Someone asked whether he should camp the part up. And I asked what that meant, was it like making his character gay, which provoked the response.
4. Would you like me to do some vacuuming now sir? MON - My scout.
5. You're not much of a drinker then. Oh well, give it time. TUES - I went out to the pub with a few mates, and declined another drink as I had to leave in a minute or two. Fortunately the 3rd year DPhil student (who thought we was wise beyond all ways) said that I will learn... in time. Wanker.
6. Tim, come on stage and look like a man... well, close enough. WED - My ego takes a pounding at a rehearsal.
7. Well I won't lie to you lads, that could have gone better. TH - Captain of the Rugby team after the 49-nil loss.

Hopefully some pictures to follow,

Tim

Week 1 Day 2

Today was my first complete day in Oxford. After a refreshing sleep I got out of bed at around 6 and went for a stroll. Having looked at postcards, seen articles in magazines and read pieces on the internet I was still unprepared for the atmosphere here. The grass (see photo below) is greener than any I have seen before, any cut with a nailclippers. The buildings look resplendant by day, staunch and eternal by night - but look their most amazing after some rain. When the clouds clear and the sun (albeit the English sun) shines onto the roof of the Bodleian Library or one of the colleges... all seems right with the world.

This of course, is not without its price - you need to endure the periods of rain before the calm of the storm. And rain it does... again, and again. Then periods of cessation.... then more rain. But, with no water restrictions and a bounteous supply from above, I am loving life by taking 3 showers a day in warm water. The dial on the shower goes from 1 to 9, with nine symbolising the hottest temperature, and 1 the coldest. I find it seeringly hot at around 6, and I dare not try to push the envelope.

Here are some photos... for pleasure: From left to right: The Sir William Dvnn (see below*) School of Psychology, The Forestry Building, a quaint little college which houses the School of Statistics.












If you like Latin (and who am I to say that I don't?) they you'll love Oxford. You will find that no words emblazoned on buildings contain the letter 'U'. Odd no? Well, not really. All the U's are replaced with V's in late Latin and Oxford is all about that here.

Some more photos

Week 1 Day 1: Japan then - eventually - UK.

I said my goodbyes to Rach and Joe - the host supremos - and headed out to the airport, thereby experiencing one last ride on a Japanese sardine can train - for the good times. On reaching the airport I was informed that the plane was delayed by 4 hours, which meant I was able to read up on Laws 16-32 in the MCC Laws of Cricket, and desperately avoid eyecontact with the loud Americans who were sitting near me in the departure lounge complaining that no one here spoke English. I didn't have the heart to tell them that what they were uttering could only be called English using the most liberal of definitions.

The plane ride was fine... I destructed some whiskies (as indeed I had on the flight from Brisbane to Tokyo - on the JAL plane they were serving 12 year old single malt whisky, and doling it out by the glass... I mean a glass... just like if you had a glass of water. That flight was a humdinger.)

I got into Heathrow and caught the bus to Oxford. This in itself proved a challenge: here is a transcript of the conversation between the busdriver and me:

"Where abouts in Oxford are you headed?" He asks.
"The University."
"Yes, but where specifically?"
"Balliol College."
"Where?"
"Ah... Manor Road - the Holywell Complex."
"Where?"
"Ah... I think it is off Broad Street."
He thinks long and hard, still with a blank look of confusion on his face.
"Oh, I don't know Oxford very well. This bus just stops to the terminus."

Certainly one of the best conversations one wants to have after a lengthy flight.

I got into Oxford and managed to find my way, by both hook and by crook, into the Holywell Manor Complex - my home for the next 3 years. The night porter, Rob, shows me to my room and as we head off he says that I should get a key so that I can come into any part of the complex, not just my particular wing. I am about to ask him why when he sees some women coming down the street, which brings us to the:
QUOD: There's your reason for getting a key, eh? Eh? Am I right mate? You know what I'm on about...
And he just kept going. I thought he would make a wolfwhistle or a couple of hand gestures, but eventually he calmed down. I took 0 photos here as I was dog tired and just wanted to get to bed. More backdating later today.

TST 2/10/06

Week 1 Day 0: Japan

I spent most of the day touring around Japan with Rach and Joe, again experiencing the sheer delight of sardine train carriages. We had plenty of eat (give everybody eat!) and plenty of drink. Here are some photographic highlights:

Above left: One of the guards at the Imperial Palace, Tokyo. He didn't wave back.
Left: My sister Rach, and I outside the Meiji Shrine.




Far below: They don't make it easy for us to enter the restaurants.
Below: Rach, her friend Asako, and I having a tofu dinner. I must say that even after an authentic Japanese Tofy dinner with all the punch and whistles, I could still live a contented life never having to taste the stuff again.












We went up to Tokyo Tower and I tried my hand at photography from above: Here is my taking a picture of Rach taking a picture of Mount Fuji (in the same vein as the escalator caperings.) The day was good, despite a bit of ill weather.

QUOD: Toire was nande ni arimasuka?
That was I, after a few too many large Japanese beers. Translated it comes roughly to: why is the toilet there? Yep... I was doing so well until that point.

TST 01/10/06

HAHA! I have conquered the Oxford computing system... at least for now. Pictures are available and all is right with the cosmos. So I think I will include a Quote of the Day, or a QUOD for the Latin minded out there in their living rooms.

Backdating:

Week 1, Day -1: Japan

There were good times to be had on the way back from the Airport. Rach and I were crushed with the sheer number of people on the trains. Apparently they don't like it when you blow your nose. I played that game... the man beside me glared daggers and, as if to prove his point, began sniffing like there was no tomorrow: illustrating the supreme ettiquette of the Japanese.
Here is a shot of my incredulity at a Japanese vending machine which stocked a 500 mL can of beer. They wouldn't last too long over here...

This is Pachinko, undoubtedly the worst video game in the history of the universe. It is a cross between pinball and the pokies, the ultimate aim to lose all your money in a flurry of lights and whistles.



Left: a sign on the escalator put there to instruct you not to bang your head on the sign on the escalator put there to instruct you.... only in Japan.

QUOD: Irrashaimase, irrsahaimase...
The traditional welcome into a shopkeeper's shop. In the grocery one chap kept walking around, saying this to anyone and sometimes to himself. When he was packing the beans, I think he was giving them a special welcome. What a character.

TST 2/10/06