The Host

Well I have been waiting until I posted again, mainly because I thought I would have some photos sent in by the admiring hordes, but it was not to be. So this promises to be a rather text heavy monograph, if I get to a thousand words then it is the same as including a picture, no?

So to make up for the Amsterdam debaucle (where accommodation was forfeit and some deposits not refundable) I decided to host Ross and Richo here at the Manor and show them the sights and sounds of Oxford.

They arrived 3 hours late on a bus, which was a good start as they had to pick their way through town to get to Balliol after I had long given up on them at the bus station. After walking them down to the Manor I showed them the guest room, which is the sort of set up I would like to have once I finish my DPhil: a sitting room, large bedroom, ensuit, comfortable lounges and chairs and books on '300 Years of Academic Dress'.

I took them to the Oxford Story, which is a 'theme park ride' for want of a better phrase which aims to educate the intellect and enlighten the senses or some such bollocks. That was my third time there and I daresay if the two lads had their time again they would want to ride it several more times... or perhaps zero more times.

That night there was a read/sing-through of The HMS Pinafore with the Gilbert and Sullivan Society in a pub in north Oxford. Normally I attend these for the good times and took the chaps along. After a slow start on the fringes of the group, several beers and a steak dinner induced the best of good times and everyone (including my two Australian imports) were getting into the finale and indeed delivering the ALL lines in the libretto with gusto. Admittedly the ALL lines were 'Yes, No,' or 'Belay' and inevitably we had diverted attention to the beer and thus were out of synch with the rest, but it provided a nice delayed Dolby stereo effect (where available).

There were much cards and whisky and wine in the Guest Room, with tales of their travels weaving amongst the reminiscence of the ANU. But without a doubt the highlight was the Saturday evening when the college celebrated Burns' Night.

To set the scene ever so briefly: Robert Burns = the Scots' national poet and they [the Scots] honour him with a dinner each year - haggis, whisky, bagpipes [which you don't eat I am told] and the like. Now as Balliol was founded by a Scotsman we hold a dinner each year, formal black tie, same old story. So, the night consists of eating, drinking and being merry but with speeches and toasts and graces galore. Now there is a toast from the men to the women [traditionally thanking the hostess for cooking, but now for a a bit of a laugh] and then a response from the lasses to the lads. I was asked to give the toast 'To the Lasses' and as such was offered a seat at the High Table. After pulling some strings I managed to get Ross and Richo seats there as well to complete the Oxford experience.

Well, the night was a success. There were about 6 bottles of whisky on the high table for 24 people, including women and people who weren't fans of the 'water of life'. That made for jolly times, infact after I was explaining to someone about the benefits to taste of single as opposed to mixed malts I began to use the adjective 'Single Malt' to describe everything: whisky, wine, the salmon entree. After the entree the haggis was 'piped in' - the bagpiper stood up at the High Table and played his ditty while the Haggis was marched in by the chef. As we were eating the Praefectus [head of the MAnor] who was sitting beside me remarked that it would have been better if the piper piped from up in the organ loft.

To explain: the dining hall is thus:
-----

I I I
I I I
I I I

OL

With the --- being the high table the Is being the normal tables and the OL being the organ loft which is raised about a storey and a half about the ground.

Right, so as the whisky and haggis [which was great] were dancing the flavour-two-step I was thinking, 'I think it would be good if I was to get up there for ye olde speech.'

And so I did, asking the MC if I could speak from up there. She wasn't sure and said, "I don't think the microphone will work from up there." I assured her that I could manage without.

And so it came to pass, that after dessert I bolted up to the organ loft and began hiding in the shadows while the concluding grace was said. The MC asked the diners to turn around and look up and then, Phantom of the Opera esque I revealed myself from the shadows. I thought that a speech on Latin Grammar would get some laughs and so I opened with a piece on the Ancient Romans.

I said, "It shouldn't come as a suprise to us that the following sentences are all feminine, at least grammatically speaking:

orbis logicae - circular logic
insana cura soleis - an insane obsession with shoes, and my favourite
Latrina sedes depone, tu stulte. Non credo habito cum porco. (Put the toilet seat down, you oaf: I can’t believe that I live with a pig– here though… oaf and pig are both masculine… those clever Romans.)

Ah yes, good times all round.

There were more toasts drunk throughout the night, more 'single malt' descriptions and general merriment with Ross, Richo and the rest.

After giving them an action packed tour of Oxford I packed them into a bus on Sunday to send them onto London and the rest of their journey. They kindly bought me a bottle of Lagavulin 16 year old whisky as a thankyou, indeed this was 'single malt' in every sense of the term.... well both senses really.

This weekend I will update with the rest of the caperings from the recent weeks. Stay tuned, same blog time, same blog channel.