I’m in England. Every time I need to cross a road, I look back and forth in panicked confusion and run for it. I heard on the BBC radio today that there is a new tax on fags. I was momentarily alarmed, but then I figured that my crush on my dog sitter probably wouldn’t be enough to change my bracket. (You expect these sorts of confusions in a foreign language “attend” in french, “becoming” in german, but it’s quite startling when it’s your native language.)
I have not been admitted to Birmingham at this point, but I think I will be, gods willing. I went to a colloquium after having 2916491728 espressos today and participated more than anybody else, which Cola (who also went) said was probably a good thing. So if they have space, I’m probably in. Funding is another issue.
The town, which I haven’t seen that much of yet, seems kind of run down in parts, but it’s not like Middletown or anything. It’s the second largest city in the UK, so I have good hopes. Also, it’s only 1.5 hours to London and the hours of coursework expected of me would be 0. I might commute. However, there are lots of big, nice parks around and I think Xena would really like it here. I don’t know what’s up with me, but I really miss her when I’m away from her for more than a few hours. She’s just a dog, but she’s my dog and I wish I could take her with me everywhere.