Isaiah and 99.94
Thence to a Sunday evening Bible reading - the first appearance of the 'Dream Team' - the two basses delivering old testament and epistle good times. I had to talk about Sodom and Gomorahh, ram's blood and the fat of bullocks... (which, each time I practised it, I almost always said 'bollocks'... which would have gone down like a sack of... bullocks?) so there was only one way to play this game. I had to bring out the voice of the hellfire puritan preachers of yesteryear, and with rumbling of tone, I almost frothed at the mouth for sections like, 'my soul hateth'. It certainly woke up a few people. Fortunately I managed to pull it all together on the day and not say, 'the fat of bollocks', which may have been comic gold, but not for what I was contracted.
Naturally every self-respecting Australian or cricketer should latch onto the significance of such a number as 99.94 (and apparently, if you don't know you don't get let into the country? Or is that just a flight of fancy from the c...c...crazy characters back home?) Regardless - in homage to Sir Donald Bradman, I have been referring to my character in 'The Gondoliers' http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gondoliers
(Don Alhambra del Bolero) as 'The Don', and have been making textbook cover drives in between sections of dialogue. Some, particular those of an American persuasion, do not get the reference, but then, that is how they roll, and the wonders of a delicate late cut, or maverick moving away to the leg side to combat bullying bodyline bowling will fall on their deaf ears (not bullocks, or any variant of that.) Nevertheless, rehearsals still go on, and I tend to have a glass or two of Glenmorangie beforehand, just to keep it real.
Sadly there is little else to report. The dissertation will be handed in by the end of term, on that I am assured, and likely I will have my oral exam (open wide and say ahhh [I've been getting good mileage out of that vehicle]) should be early in January. Thus I will have time for research in the interim, and, perhaps in a more exciting vein, the ultimate Scottish experience or drinking billy tea and cooking porridge over a fire when the rain, she come a'tumblin' down.
Di is due to arrive in Blighty in the middle of December, and a hunt for a house is on. I am mustard keen on a place with a study and a shelf for whisky, and other materials such as heating and numbers of bedrooms will surely sort themselves out after the main priority. Still, but only just, the Oxford autumn is reminiscent of a Canberra winter, and I am finding that with a glove (or preferably two) a jacket, a packet of fisherman's friends (designed to combat the harsh fishing conditions off the Icelandic coast, or so the packet tells me, and I in turn, tell others) and a bit of JS on the old Ipod, it is just like old times.
Except that there are English people here.
Naturally every self-respecting Australian or cricketer should latch onto the significance of such a number as 99.94 (and apparently, if you don't know you don't get let into the country? Or is that just a flight of fancy from the c...c...crazy characters back home?) Regardless - in homage to Sir Donald Bradman, I have been referring to my character in 'The Gondoliers' http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Gondoliers
(Don Alhambra del Bolero) as 'The Don', and have been making textbook cover drives in between sections of dialogue. Some, particular those of an American persuasion, do not get the reference, but then, that is how they roll, and the wonders of a delicate late cut, or maverick moving away to the leg side to combat bullying bodyline bowling will fall on their deaf ears (not bullocks, or any variant of that.) Nevertheless, rehearsals still go on, and I tend to have a glass or two of Glenmorangie beforehand, just to keep it real.
Sadly there is little else to report. The dissertation will be handed in by the end of term, on that I am assured, and likely I will have my oral exam (open wide and say ahhh [I've been getting good mileage out of that vehicle]) should be early in January. Thus I will have time for research in the interim, and, perhaps in a more exciting vein, the ultimate Scottish experience or drinking billy tea and cooking porridge over a fire when the rain, she come a'tumblin' down.
Di is due to arrive in Blighty in the middle of December, and a hunt for a house is on. I am mustard keen on a place with a study and a shelf for whisky, and other materials such as heating and numbers of bedrooms will surely sort themselves out after the main priority. Still, but only just, the Oxford autumn is reminiscent of a Canberra winter, and I am finding that with a glove (or preferably two) a jacket, a packet of fisherman's friends (designed to combat the harsh fishing conditions off the Icelandic coast, or so the packet tells me, and I in turn, tell others) and a bit of JS on the old Ipod, it is just like old times.
Except that there are English people here.
posted by Tim Trudgian | 11:16 am
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