A brief day trip.

Firstly: Am-Chau, stop stalking me.

That said, had Gmail not been down last night, I would have remembered to let you know I’d be incommunicado today, and I really am sorry I abandoned you to your boredom.

My own day has not been boring; it has in fact been rather chaotic and very long. It began at five in the morning when I dragged myself out of bed, got dressed and ambled downstairs picking things up as I went. Once again, the curse of relatives – you’re driven to visit all the places you wouldn’t otherwise visit. Starting this morning with Stratford-upon-Avon, and I’ve never been there. Actually, I have – I just can’t remember it.

Anyway, so lots of travelling was involved and my reading matter was suitably diverse – Othello, because I ought to read it at some point and when’s a better time than on the way to Stratford, and Angels and Demons, trashy prequel to The Da Vinci Code. Both were much better than I’d expected, and I switched from one to the other with fair regularity along the way. It wasn’t a comfortable journey – six people squished into the car – but I fell asleep, naturally. Thus passed the homicidal rage portion of the morning.

By eight o’clock, I was awake again and muttering, “Oh, he’s such a bastard,” at regular intervals about Iago, and by ten, we were in Stratford. It’s very pretty in a quaint English sort of way, and Didibhai and Dadu were charmed. They went on the tour of Shakespeare’s birthplace, whilst Mashi was thoroughly annoying about souvenirs and Pedar and I sat on the wall in front of the house and attempted to remember any Shakespeare offhand. We were there some time, but not a great deal actually happened – I bought a couple of postcards, and texted purplerainbow to tell her where I was – and by one o’clock in the afternoon, we were off again.

I was more excited this time. It had been ten years since I’d been to Oxford – now, twice in two weeks. Remind me again that I must not fall in love with this city. I described it thoroughly two weeks ago, so not again, but the beauty, the weight of history – I cannot be the only person who is so thoroughly bowled over by it. I went back to Blackwell’s and thought of Am-Chau.

It happened that today of all days was Convocation, so all the colleges were closed to the public, but we went past Balliol and up to Magdalen anyway. Mashi collapsed into giggles when she heard me say “Magdalen” – apparently the pronunciation is a new one on her. When I explained that Magdalen at Oxford and Magdalene at Cambridge are pronounced the same way, she giggled harder. My grandparents seemed to like the city very much, especially what snippets of its history I happened to know and could provide. Dadu has proven unexpectedly enthusiastic about my doing PPE at Oxford, and is very keen for me to get in. Apparently he has always had great respect for the Indian cabinet ministers and the Indian civil service, who are generally PPE graduates from Oxford. In another slight twist, my own grandfather (Pedar’s father) was an Indian government civil servant (he didn’t have a degree). I know it’s wicked, but I can’t help but be a little amused at what he would say if he knew about me – rather than the boys, it’s a daughter of the family attempting to follow in his footsteps.

Somewhere near the Cherwell, I got another pair of postcards, but I won’t say who they’re for.

We left Oxford in the early evening, and had a long, squished journey back up North. I finished Angels and Demons and gave up on Othello for now. Got home rather tired. Very tired, in fact. I think I’m ill; I have that curiously disembodied feeling it usually takes alcohol to achieve. Tomorrow should be a quiet day, if Mashi doesn’t make noise, but Nupur is flying out tomorrow and should be here on Monday morning. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I’m looking forward to seeing her so much. I’ve written about her before – she is my fourteen-year-old cousin, a teenage girl, an American teenage girl, and yet has never rebelled in her life. When I was fourteen, I was pissed off with the universe, getting into Nirvana and deliberately wearing clothes my parents would loathe. Nupur, however… little angel. Absolute angel. She does Bharat Natyam. She gets straight As. She’s never bought a CD or a magazine or thrown a temper tantrum, and yet I’ve always suspected she’s not happy.

Anyway. I have a fortnight to spoil her (modus operandi – anything she wants, within reason). The thing is, she’s bringing a friend with her. I don’t know what I think about this. His name’s Joshua and I don’t know him very well – I’ve no idea how the dynamic’s going to work, and whether I can keep them both amused for a fortnight.