Notes from the Midlands

The occasion was the 21st birthday of my cousin, Sarah, at the family home in Bewdley, not far away from Kidderminster. In the final year of a teaching course at York University (while I, as she remarked, am in New York), she is a bright and very affable young girl, though no doubt teaching will change all that soon enough. One's 21st birthday is, of course, a moment for celebration and looking to the future; though left largely unspoken throughout proceedings, there was also a certain sense of poignancy, if not sadness, that my cousin - her sister - Claire could not be present. She had died while still a teenager in a minibus crash in the Midlands in the autumn of 1993. Had she lived, she would be about my age and have celebrated her own 21st five years earlier.

Still, it was a lively and boisterous occasion, the party being held in a marquee in her parents' capacious garden and supplied with copious quantities of food and drink. Most of the guests were Sarah's friends from York University and from her childhood in the Midlands, though there was still a sizeable representation of older friends and family. It didn't half make me feel old, though. Less than a month away from my 27th birthday, I was never entirely sure whether I should be chatting with the 2nd and 3rd year undergraduates that composed the majority of Sarah's guests, or making rather more adult conversation with the rest. I am ashamed to admit that I couldn't help silently drooling over one or two of the student body; one girl, in particular, was in possession of what I think were the two most perfect breasts I have seen in recent times and was not shy of displaying them. Proof, if it were required, that I am a drooling pervert. God knows what will happen when I have to start teaching (or rather, TA-ing) in a year's time. Put me and the English accent in a room with some nubile 18-year old American girls and it will probably be all I can do not to trip over my own tongue, let alone avoid getting kicked out of the University and summarily deported (needless to say, K is less than thrilled at this prospect, because, as she said, "we always fancied our TAs in college").

Still. It was all good fun in a teacher-at-a-school-disco kind of way, and I think most of them were suitably impressed at what I laughingly refer to as my 'jetset lifestyle'. I was rather happy that I didn't have to venture outside much, though - aside from the Worcester countryside, I find most aspects of the West Midlands - not least the accent - to be uniformly horrible. We went for a pub lunch on Sunday before I came back down to Cambridge at the pub at the end of the road. My family on my mum's side seem to have this bizarre obsession with pub lunches, even when they're manifestly horrible, and especially (as in this case) ridiculously overpriced. I got a leathery piece of beef and some overcooked vegetables for 8 quid or so, though everything else on the menu was at least ￡15. For the equivalent - $30 or so - I could get quite a feed in NYC. But then, as Mum reminded me - "this is the Midlands, dear, they're not very sophisticated round here".

Summer lightning

It's summer in England. You can tell by the rain.

Been back a week now, and though it seems to me pleasantly cool, those in the know and those on TV (usually not the same thing) are all on about the heatwave. It seems that summers in New York and Japan have given me a higher tolerance than most of my countrymen for hot weather; although whether this weather marks the beginning of a long-term trend, only time will tell. Certainly last year's summer was pretty cool overall, if I remember rightly - but right now the humidity has burst and there's a thunderstorm outside, which has been going on for a few hours now.

The flight back was passable - leaving at 4.00 a.m. was not fun, but the flight was 80% empty and I got a bulkhead seat, so I was able to stretch my legs out a bit. Normal modus operandi when coming back is to go to Stansted (it's only 20 mins drive from where I live in Cambridge), and so I did, but it was so packed with holidaymakers returning from the continent that I missed my Dad and had to get a taxi home. Was about 1 a.m. before I got to bed. But then, seasoned traveller that I am, I suppose I'm more or less used to that...

This last week has not, I regret to say, been very exciting. I've been reading some of my old books and magazines and enjoying my DVD collection again, partly through tiredness and the need to get over my jetlag and partly because I don't really have any money until I get paid tomorrow. This was always the point at which things might get a bit stretched financially, especially as I had to pay for a flight back to New York to resume my studies in mid-August, but I think I'll just about manage to squeak through. As from September 1st, Columbia will thankfully be giving me money instead of taking it away from me.

Off to Birmingham this weekend for a family function. May God have mercy on my soul...

Master of the Universe

So I got my MA thesis finished, finally. It's done, basically, though I will need to make one or two revisions to it before I submit it at the end of August. In the meantime, I have a translation to finish off, though that's not particularly urgent. In any case, it does feel good to have got the bulk of my work done; now I can relax for a bit back home.

It's hot in NYC right now; it hit 35℃ yesterday and will apparently be much the same way for most of the next few weeks. Thankfully I'm not going to be here, as I'm off back to the UK for a month or so. I managed to find someone to sublet my place, thankfully, so that's saved me a wodge of cash I would otherwise have had to pay on rent for the time I wasn't here.

The McCollums, friends from Japan, were visiting from California yesterday; we had lunch down in Bryant Park, then I showed them around Columbia and Riverside Park. Current and ex-JETs from Miyagi will no doubt remember both of them, especially their not insignificant contributions to Miyagi football. That's one of the great things about New York, people just are queueing up to come to visit.

In sort of related news, I'm also now the secretary for the New York JET AA association (which stands for Alumni Association; not, as one might think, Alcoholics Anonymous, although I think it's fair to say that there are more than a few JETs we know who would find the latter rather more useful). Not entirely sure how that happened, given as how I've only been to a couple of events, but I think it'll prove an interesting experience; I got an invite to a reception at the Japanese embassy at the end of the month because of it, but sadly I can't go as I won't be here.

One further invitation I sadly cannot respond to - my good friend Pocket's wedding in September. He and his bride-to-be have been great friends to me over the years, even coming out to visit in November of last year, and I'm genuinely distressed that I can't make their big day - but unfortunately I have to be here. I have no doubt it will be one to remember...but circumstances dictate otherwise for me.

Anyway...chances are the next time I blog I will be back in Blighty!

Red, white and blue

I celebrated the 4th of July down in Brooklyn, at a small gathering held by one of K's friends. We watched the fireworks from the south of the borough, from an area known as DUMBO - Down Under Manhattan Bridge Overpass - in the tradition of SoHo and TriBeCa. The fireworks were, as you'd expect, spectacular. Pics below for your viewing pleasure.

Sun, sea, sand and stupidity

Got out of the city on Sunday and went down to Sandy Hook in the neighbouring state of New Jersey. A long way south of New York, it's a peninsula on the east coast of the neighbouring state. It also represented the first time I had managed to get out of New York State, pathetically enough, so a jaunt out to the coast was really rather overdue. Went with Juliet, Jo, Tanya and Paul, friends and acquaintances of varying degrees of proximity mainly from the Business School - including me, two Brits, one Russian and one Frenchman, so a fairly cosmopolitan mix.

I can't imagine writing about lying on a beach would be very amusing for most of you, so I'll just post a couple of pics.















Jo, Juliet and Tania.














Self, Jules, Jo and Paul on the way back.

24 hours earlier, I was unfortunate enough to witness another England campaign fall short of expectations. In its manner of unfolding, it does rather bear out the adjective I used in my previous post, especially Rooney's stunningly brainless stamp on Carvalho with the ref less than two feet away. A further, more unpleasant aspect is that now the recriminations begin, and as they often do it's a case of let's-blame-Jonny-foreigner. Granted, Ronaldo's intervention was unnecessary and deplorably unsporting, but let's face it, Rooney has nobody but himself to blame for his actions. I hope that this event turns out to be an epiphany for him as a player, much as France 98 was for Beckham; I fear that too many excuses will be made for him and he will not have to accept the responsibility for his actions.

It's funny, really - there's always a scapegoat, someone or something to blame, never an acceptance that the players just weren't quite good enough. 98 was Beckham (or Simeone, for the connoisseur of xenophobia, or if you prefer, Alan Shearer), '00 was Phil Neville (or Keegan), '02 was Seaman, '04 was another cheating foreigner in the shape of the referee, Urs Meier. Always a sense that 'if only' that hadn't happened, then our boys would have gone all the way. English cricket didn't improve to win the Ashes by always looking for excuses; it recognised its shortcomings and took action to address them. I wonder how long it will be before English football decides to do the same thing.

In the meantime, though, it's all very depressing...