Punting down the Cherwell
May. 4th, 2006 11:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Perfect, idyllic day. I'm sorry, you must all be getting thoroughly sick of these posts. But it was. It was the hottest day of the year so far, and I celebrated it by sleeping through my only lecture of the week. Pat rang me at about midday and sang cheerful summer songs at me to make me get out of bed. Having got out of bed, I noticed that the attic is an oven. The debate has been raging through the year whether it would be an oven or a freezer in Trinity - definite vote in favour of the former. I dug through the debris on the end of my bed in search of a) the Skirt O'Amazingness and b) my polling card, and went out to vote. I voted Green, unsurprisingly. I'm not sure whether I'd have rather voted at home or in Carfax, but we didn't get back to college until after the postal vote deadline, so I didn't actually have much choice in the matter.
And on the way there and back, I was marvelling at the sunlight and rampant pretty. I always admire the trenchant denial that comes along with British summertime - it is hot, damn you, we will wear next to nothing - but today was the first day where there wasn't actually any denial in the equation. Even now, when the night air has cooled things off a bit, it's still warm enough to be sticky. It's rather nice. I don't usually like hot weather, but that's because I sit and stew and think the rest of the world is having a better time than me, but no one in the world had a better time than me today (if anyone did, they should invest the money wisely, yes). I should have done more work, of course. Having voted, I came back into college to find a stack of collections papers in my pidge. I don't know if I mentioned it, but I got my philosopy back a week ago and got a 2:1, which made my day. I'd have done better if I hadn't managed to write a four-side essay about the problem of induction without once mentioning David Hume, who is, I don't know, the key thinker on the subject? (Bob wrote in the margin, "Sensible argument, but rather like Hamlet without the prince.")
Political theory was also surprising. Again a 2:1, across the two essays, but one of them was very bad and the other much better. I was surprised because the essay I wrote about Mill, which I thought was better, was actually rather atrocious, and the one on Rousseau I did with too little time to spare skimmed a first. I was bemused. And this morning in the sunshine I got back institutional politics - 2:1 again - and I was thrilled, because I did not revise for that paper. The time I was supposed to revise for it, I used to have a mini-meltdown and go off wandering to Jericho. So I'm pleased.
And economics deserves a mention, I suppose. Overall, I skimmed the 2:2/2:1 borderline, which again I am thrilled by, because I am rubbish at economics. I didn't drop Logic because I was shit, but because I didn't like it, and ideally I'd like the same to be true for economics; if I can do better in the real thing, then it will hopefully prove I hate economics for itself, and not because I can't do it. Because that would just be sad. I haven't got my maths question back. Other than that I have all my collections papers back, and I haven't bombed any of them. This just makes me happy, because it means I have no risk of failing outright even if I don't have more than five days or so to revise in eighth week. The only flies in the ointment - I have a fifteen-minute meeting with Forder to discuss my collections, out of which only one of us will come out alive, and secondly, I passed my economics. I owe Pedar £30.
So I went skipping happily across the grass of the quad, dodging the people sprawled and the people playing croquet, and settled in the shade with my micro and a lolly ice Sky had just handed me. And I was supposed to be doing maths, and I was, but lazily, beneath a cloudless sky, drinking Pimms and watching a rehearsal of Agamemnon on the grass. After a bit I went running off to a tutorial, whilst Pat, Sky and Claire went down to Magdalen Bridge to secure a punt. An hour later they appeared beneath the bridge to get me, very wet and laughing hysterically. Apparently for the first ten minutes they went round in circles. I clambered in and off we went.
First of all, Ben has actually been punting before. This is an advantage. It is also an advantage when you want to try your hand at an a capella rendition of "Goodnight Sweetheart" to the rhythm of the paddles.

Note the Calippo microphone. They're really very good, even if they only know one and a half songs.

Claire wants YOU to join the Death Eaters.

Sky is very bad at punting, but Claire and I are worse. I can't even use a paddle. I am rubbish. Besides, I left my feminist values in my other skirt. There were cushions to lie back on, and soft, sun-warmed water to trail my fingers lazily through. At least, until the next time we hit the bank/another boat/Magdalen Bridge. I later proposed that you need a vocabulary of exactly three words to go punting with: "Duck!", "Shit!" and "Sorry!"
Sky has still not given up smoking, so we stopped on the bank so he could have a quick fag and a nice woman asked if we wanted a picture taking of us.

This is my favourite picture, I think. It just sums up all of it - the sun, the sparkle on the water, the sheer lazy bliss. Delicious. The only reason we didn't have any Pimm's in the boat was because Sky was late and we couldn't buy any. We did have yesterday's menthol cigarettes, so having smoked my quota for the year I will save my lungs and not smoke any more until next Trinity.
Claire got this last picture of me, my paddle and the Skirt O'Amazingness:

-before we turned the punt round, hitting the bank four times in the process, and lurched into a paddle boat, another college punt and a tree before settling down into a straight line beneath the bridge.
We arrived back at the jetty, reclaimed Bod cards and wandered unsteadily back to college, where there was finally a proper jug of Pimm's, with apple and lemon, and dinner. And then work, still in Starbucks, where I decided I need to do more work than I'm doing at the moment, but I will. I will. I'm not going to fail, either my exams or at being a happy person in a beautiful world.
And on the way there and back, I was marvelling at the sunlight and rampant pretty. I always admire the trenchant denial that comes along with British summertime - it is hot, damn you, we will wear next to nothing - but today was the first day where there wasn't actually any denial in the equation. Even now, when the night air has cooled things off a bit, it's still warm enough to be sticky. It's rather nice. I don't usually like hot weather, but that's because I sit and stew and think the rest of the world is having a better time than me, but no one in the world had a better time than me today (if anyone did, they should invest the money wisely, yes). I should have done more work, of course. Having voted, I came back into college to find a stack of collections papers in my pidge. I don't know if I mentioned it, but I got my philosopy back a week ago and got a 2:1, which made my day. I'd have done better if I hadn't managed to write a four-side essay about the problem of induction without once mentioning David Hume, who is, I don't know, the key thinker on the subject? (Bob wrote in the margin, "Sensible argument, but rather like Hamlet without the prince.")
Political theory was also surprising. Again a 2:1, across the two essays, but one of them was very bad and the other much better. I was surprised because the essay I wrote about Mill, which I thought was better, was actually rather atrocious, and the one on Rousseau I did with too little time to spare skimmed a first. I was bemused. And this morning in the sunshine I got back institutional politics - 2:1 again - and I was thrilled, because I did not revise for that paper. The time I was supposed to revise for it, I used to have a mini-meltdown and go off wandering to Jericho. So I'm pleased.
And economics deserves a mention, I suppose. Overall, I skimmed the 2:2/2:1 borderline, which again I am thrilled by, because I am rubbish at economics. I didn't drop Logic because I was shit, but because I didn't like it, and ideally I'd like the same to be true for economics; if I can do better in the real thing, then it will hopefully prove I hate economics for itself, and not because I can't do it. Because that would just be sad. I haven't got my maths question back. Other than that I have all my collections papers back, and I haven't bombed any of them. This just makes me happy, because it means I have no risk of failing outright even if I don't have more than five days or so to revise in eighth week. The only flies in the ointment - I have a fifteen-minute meeting with Forder to discuss my collections, out of which only one of us will come out alive, and secondly, I passed my economics. I owe Pedar £30.
So I went skipping happily across the grass of the quad, dodging the people sprawled and the people playing croquet, and settled in the shade with my micro and a lolly ice Sky had just handed me. And I was supposed to be doing maths, and I was, but lazily, beneath a cloudless sky, drinking Pimms and watching a rehearsal of Agamemnon on the grass. After a bit I went running off to a tutorial, whilst Pat, Sky and Claire went down to Magdalen Bridge to secure a punt. An hour later they appeared beneath the bridge to get me, very wet and laughing hysterically. Apparently for the first ten minutes they went round in circles. I clambered in and off we went.
First of all, Ben has actually been punting before. This is an advantage. It is also an advantage when you want to try your hand at an a capella rendition of "Goodnight Sweetheart" to the rhythm of the paddles.

Note the Calippo microphone. They're really very good, even if they only know one and a half songs.

Claire wants YOU to join the Death Eaters.

Sky is very bad at punting, but Claire and I are worse. I can't even use a paddle. I am rubbish. Besides, I left my feminist values in my other skirt. There were cushions to lie back on, and soft, sun-warmed water to trail my fingers lazily through. At least, until the next time we hit the bank/another boat/Magdalen Bridge. I later proposed that you need a vocabulary of exactly three words to go punting with: "Duck!", "Shit!" and "Sorry!"
Sky has still not given up smoking, so we stopped on the bank so he could have a quick fag and a nice woman asked if we wanted a picture taking of us.

This is my favourite picture, I think. It just sums up all of it - the sun, the sparkle on the water, the sheer lazy bliss. Delicious. The only reason we didn't have any Pimm's in the boat was because Sky was late and we couldn't buy any. We did have yesterday's menthol cigarettes, so having smoked my quota for the year I will save my lungs and not smoke any more until next Trinity.
Claire got this last picture of me, my paddle and the Skirt O'Amazingness:

-before we turned the punt round, hitting the bank four times in the process, and lurched into a paddle boat, another college punt and a tree before settling down into a straight line beneath the bridge.
We arrived back at the jetty, reclaimed Bod cards and wandered unsteadily back to college, where there was finally a proper jug of Pimm's, with apple and lemon, and dinner. And then work, still in Starbucks, where I decided I need to do more work than I'm doing at the moment, but I will. I will. I'm not going to fail, either my exams or at being a happy person in a beautiful world.
no subject
on 2006-05-04 11:32 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-05-04 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-05-04 11:38 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-05-04 11:42 pm (UTC)