Reading Week

This past week was reading week at Goldsmiths, so I had no lectures. I did do some work but mostly I just lazed about, went on long runs, and went exploring. Here’s what I’ve been up to:

Filming: In a few weeks I have a fifteen-minute practice film due. I’ll spare you my frustrations with finding subjects (for now at least) because I finally have people to film, so I’m in better spirits about the whole enterprise.

I’m working with Creative Routes, an arts organization run by and for people with mental illnesses (they typically refer to themselves as “mad people”). It’s based in Camberwell, which is part of the Borough of Southwark and a convenient 15-20 minute bus ride away. Right now they’re struggling for funds, but they have two weekly programs running: a samba drumming group and a creative writing group. The latter didn’t meet this week, so I’ve only filmed the samba group and the office workers doing work in…the office.

So far things are going well. I’m not sure how good the footage I’ve shot is, but I’ve really enjoyed hanging around with the Creative Routes people. They’re all very nice, outgoing, have no qualms about being filmed, and are highly opinionated. That basically describes the ideal documentary subject, so things are looking up for this project!

Lazing About: I guess this doesn’t need much description. I’m generally on the internet too much, so I surfed and read lots of news articles (it’s an obsession). I also read more Sherlock Holmes than I should have, considering all the research I need to do for my essays due at the end of April. I finished The Valley of Fear, which means the only Sherlock Holmes novel I have yet to read is His Last Bow. I’ll probably tackle that after another collection of his short stories, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes.

I also baked three loaves of banana nut bread—two for my flatmates and one for Philip, the subject of the portrait film I did in the fall. I brought it to him earlier this week along with two copies of his film on DVD. We watched it over tea and banana bread. I think he was a bit disconcerted seeing himself on the TV screen, but I do think he liked it. Then we chatted for a while about the weather and politics while we finished our tea. It was a nice trip out to Baker Street.

I watched The New World as well, which only partially falls under the “lazy category.” I mean, the more movies I watch the better filmmaker I will ultimately be, right? It’s all for the good of my education—that’s what I keep telling myself. Anyway, I picked this one because Terrence Malick directed it and I loved his work on Badlands, which I watched a few weeks ago with our MAVIS Tuesday film group. The New World has received mixed reviews, but I loved it. The cinematography and editing were incredible and it was just generally beautiful and poetic. It pretty much stuck to the traditional Pocahontas narrative, and yet, it was definitely not a traditional telling of that famous story. I would highly recommend it.

Running: I’ve been getting sick of the same old routes in the New Cross area, so I decided to venture a bit further afield. One day, I went through Deptford and Bermondsey, across Tower Bridge, along the Thames Path, back across Southwark Bridge, through Borough and back down Old Kent Road. It took an hour and half, so I estimate that run at between 9-11 miles. It was a long one, but it was scenic. I especially loved running over Tower Bridge!

Another day, I ran to Greenwich and through the foot tunnel that runs under the Thames to the Isle of Dogs (it’s not really an island, check out this Google map to see). I had planned to run to the nearest bridge (which I think was Tower Bridge) and then back to New Cross, but it was taking me forever to get there and I had to be back to film at Creative Routes so I ended up turning around. That run was about an hour and ten minutes, so probably around 6-7 miles.

Then yesterday I decided to run through Camberwell. I prefer running loops rather than out-and-back, so I mapped out a good route before I left. I went down Old Kent Road past the Tesco, turned onto Albany Street, ran past Burgess Park, then turned onto Camberwell Road (which took me through Camberwell center), then kept going through Peckham and back to New Cross. This was my least favorite run (and also the shortest at 55 minutes, appx. 5-6 miles), because the streets I took were rather crowded—especially in Peckham center! I probably won’t do that one again unless I can get my butt outside really early.

Exploring: Last Saturday I went to Borough Market, near London Bridge, to scope it out. It’s a food market that runs Thursday through Saturday, though I wouldn’t recommend going on a Saturday afternoon. As you can see, it was absurdly crowded.



There was lots of produce, meat, and fish, but there were also many stalls offering gourmet and/or international foods like breads, olives, honey, chocolate, cheese, and various kinds of baked goods. I bought these cookies because they were just too cute to resist. And they were really yummy too.


After Borough Market, I decided to go to the Victoria and Albert Museum (the V&A for short). It’s in South Kensington, but I got off at Victoria Station because the museum’s website said it was a five minute walk from there. This was clearly incorrect, as it took me at least twenty minutes, but I did get to see a little bit of Belgravia, Chelsea, and Kensington so it wasn't a total bust.

A street in Belgravia

Some buildings in Kensington

I didn’t have a whole lot of time to look around before the V&A closed, but I toured some of the British Galleries, the Cast Room, and the Photography Gallery. Here are a few pictures I took:




On Tuesday I got my hair cut in Covent Garden. I got it cut at the beginning of January, so it was technically too early for another one, but I didn’t like the way it was growing out. Freddie was my stylist. He was tall and lanky with dyed-red asymmetrically cut hair. He was wearing skinny pants and high tops and all his clothes were black. He had lots of tattoos and ear plugs (the kind in your ear lobes, not in your ear) as well.

Luckily, I didn’t end up with a hipster haircut. I think he did a very nice job. And the haircut was half off, too, because my flatmate Moriah gave me a “recommend a friend” coupon. (She was the friend who recommended me.) I’m much happier with my hair now. It's not really any shorter, but it has a better shape, I think.

On Thursday I decided I was finally going to see the play “War Horse” at the National Theatre. It’s had a long run and been extremely popular, so the remaining shows through March are all sold out. However, they sell a certain number of £10 day tickets for each show, available the day-of beginning at 9:30am. I made it to the theatre around 10:15am and they were already sold out! They did have £5 standing tickets, though, so I bought one. I wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect of standing for 2 hours and 40 minutes, but I hoped the show would be so good I wouldn’t even notice how tired my feet were.


I went back to New Cross to get some work done, then returned to the theatre for the 7:30pm performance. First, I went to the ticket desk to see if they had any returned tickets so I could try for a seat. They didn’t. In fact, there was a whole long line of people without tickets waiting to see if they could get one. Ah well. Then I went to a nearby EAT (kind of like Panera) and got a sandwich, scarfed it down, and hurried back to the theatre. I wanted to make sure I was there right when the doors opened because I wasn’t sure what the standing area was like. Standing for “The Merry Wives of Windsor” at the Globe I could hardly see a thing, so I wanted to be as close to the front of the pack as possible.

As it turned out, there weren’t many standees, and we were situated in a line rather than a pack behind the back row of seats in the upper gallery. The view was fine, but a seat would have been even better!

The show was absolutely fantastic. The puppets were incredibly life-like, I loved the spare (OK, practically nonexistent) scenery, the acting was fabulous, and the story was very touching. Aannndd I definitely cried at the end. It was so good. I want to see it again when it moves to the West End!

After the show let out, around 10:30pm, I decided to walk along the Thames to take some pictures. The National Theatre is right next to the river in an area called Southbank, which has many galleries (including the Hayward and Saatchi), The Royal Festival Hall, the Aquarium, and the London Eye, among many other things. It’s definitely one of my new favorite London spots. Here are some of the pictures I took there:

The National Theatre

Looking out across the Thames

The Golden Jubilee Bridge

The London Eye, Big Ben & the Houses of Parliament

The Eye!

Blurry Big Ben & Houses of Parliament

So that was what I did over reading week. Now, back to the books and the editing suite…

Until next time!

Dublin, Part 2

To begin I think I should address the feelings of disappointment expressed in the last entry, since that seems to have been one of the most salient elements.

Besides the obvious (e.g. discovering “Dublin Castle” to be false advertising), I think the main reason I found Dublin to be mildly disappointing was because I expected to feel a strong connection and an immediate sense of belonging. Like something just fit. I mean if England is the motherland, then Ireland is the other motherland (even if Grandpa Kendall would never admit it). I imagined stepping off the plane and feeling like I was home, or at least like I was returning to place I knew from a dream. But it wasn’t like that at all.

Don’t get me wrong, my visit to Dublin wasn’t a negative experience in any sense. More like…deflating. I think my expectations were just unrealistic, and disappointment often emerges from the gaping hole between expectations and reality, as you well know.

I also think it had a lot to do with the fact that I was traveling alone. I don’t think I’ll be making any more big trips by myself because all the things that should be exciting and special really lose something when there’s no one with you to share in the joy.

All that being said, things were looking up in the second half of my trip. Here’s what I did:

On Sunday, I left early for O’Connell St. to catch the bus for the tour of County Wicklow. The day started off sunny, but cold. I was shivering by the time the bus arrived, so I was thankful to be able to get into the warmth. I took a seat and we waited for several minutes to make sure everyone who signed up had boarded, then we departed. The bus was small (it seated 24) but it was nice inside—plush and very clean.

We drove south through Dublin and, hugging the coast, made our first stop in the seaside town of Dun Laoghaire. As our guide explained, most people pronounce it “dunleary” (?!), but in Irish it’s “dune leeruh.” We pulled over near the harbor and got out to take pictures. There was a little seal playing in the water near the docks and you could see Howth off in the distance. It was quite nice.


We didn’t stay more than a few minutes before hopping back on the bus and driving up into the hills nearby. That was Dalkey, where Bono, Enya, and Van Morrison apparently live. We drove past Enya’s “castle” but didn’t stop.

Then we finally arrived in County Wicklow. Hills were beginning to crop up everywhere, and the scenery along the drive was lovely, but only a taste of what was to come. Around 10:30 we made a “comfort stop,” as our guide put it, at Avoca Handweavers for bathrooms, coffee, and craft shopping. Everything was really overpriced, but I did buy a little cookbook: Avoca Teatime. It has lots of yummy-sounding recipes like chocolate raspberry cheesecake brownies, lemon tart with caramelized strawberries, fairy buns, and pear and almond scones. Mmmm…I haven’t tried any of the recipes yet, but I definitely plan to!

After about 45 minutes, we hopped back on the bus and drove into the mountains. Here’s a short video I took with my camera out the bus window:

Our first photo stop was Loch Tay, also known as Guinness Lake. It got this informal name for two reasons. First, the water is very black and the sand that was shipped in to make a beach makes the lake look like a pint of Guinness. Second, a member of the Guinness family owns the estate that encompasses the lake. I think this was my favorite site on the whole tour. It was really spectacular.



After we had all taken lots of pictures, we got back on the bus and drove and drove and drove. The mountains were beautiful, but I bet they look even more amazing when they’re actually green. And they’re absolutely covered with heather, so everything probably has a gorgeous purple tinge in the late summer.

We drove through Sally Gap, which is about 2,500 feet above sea level. Lots of movies were (partially) shot in that area, including Braveheart, Excalibur, and P.S. I Love You (Kacey and Becca will appreciate the last one). Our next photo stop was at a waterfall running down a steep slope into a little village below.


We then drove to the town of Laragh, where we stopped for lunch. I went into a café and got some pumpkin soup and a bit of bread. It was very good and warmed me up nicely after all those chilly photo stops. At this point, it had started raining; lightly at first, but then it poured. After about an hour or so, we got back on the bus and made our way to Glendalough, which was about 5 minutes’ drive from Laragh. It was still raining steadily.

At Glendalough we all got out and huddled under our umbrellas while our guide took us around the sixth century monastic site founded by St. Kevin. There was a crumbling abbey, lots of gravestones, a tower, and a stone church—still very much intact—known as St. Kevin’s Kitchen. According to our guide, the name “kitchen” was probably given to the building by local residents. The church’s steeple was also used as a chimney, so seeing smoke coming from it made people think it was a kitchen rather than a church, though this was all very tongue in cheek.

The site was quite gloomy in the rain and mist. Here are a few pictures I took from underneath my umbrella:




Of all our tour guide’s pearls of wisdom, my favorite was the story about this cross:


Legend has it that if you can put your arms around it backward and touch your fingertips together, you get a wish. This, our tour guide said, was utter nonsense. He cautioned us that it was a lot bigger than it looked, noting that he’d seen huge basketball players make fools of themselves unsuccessfully trying to touch their fingers together behind the cross. Then he said, only half jokingly but with good humor, “I’d better not see anyone in my tour group trying that!” His “threat” must have worked because I only saw people from other groups trying in vain to get a wish from the cross.

From the monastic site, the walk to the lakes was about 30 minutes. It was still raining, so I trudged along under my umbrella with wet sneakers and wet pants halfway to the knee. The valley was really incredible. Even in the gloom it was powerful and atmospheric. There were lots of hiking trails, but I stuck to the main one for two reasons. First, it was the shortest and we didn’t have hours upon hours to go exploring. And Second it was the only one that was paved, and hence, the least muddy and wet. The path went directly to the two lakes. The lower lake was a bit hidden, so I didn’t get the greatest pictures of it, but the upper (and larger) lake was very open. Next to Loch Tay, I’d say this was the most picturesque part of the Wicklow tour.


I didn’t hang around the upper lake too long, since I was wet and cold. So after taking some pictures I headed back to the bus and we left after everyone had returned from the lakes. On the way back to Dublin, I fell asleep. Surprised? I must have been dreaming of the beautiful Wicklow scenery…I really think I liked it better than the city!

We returned at about 5pm and it was Sunday, if you recall, so nothing was really open. Therefore I went through my Dublin evening routine: I grabbed something to eat on the way to Lyndon House and vegged out for the rest of the evening. But this time I got in my pajamas right away so I could pile my soggy clothes on the heater. Luckily, they were dry by morning.

On Monday, I did my final round of sightseeing in Dublin. I went first to the Georgian section south of the Liffey, to pay homage to some literary gods: at Merrion Square, I visited the houses of Oscar Wilde and William Butler Yeats. And just to clarify: when I say “visited” I mean I stood outside and took pictures. They aren’t really museums, so there’s nothing to see inside. In fact, I think Yeats’ house is now filled with offices.



I also found this charming statue of Oscar Wilde in Merrion Square Park. So debonair, even in effigy!


After that I decided to go shopping. I had held off on souvenir buying because I knew I would have time on Monday and I could always go back if something caught my eye earlier in the trip. As it turned out, nothing had. I wasn’t really interested in Guinness coasters or green shamrock socks, thank you very much. Henry Street mostly had stores I could find in London, so I stuck to the Grafton Street area. I went into the Dublin Avoca (still overpriced) and the Irish version of Foyles (a famous and very large independent London bookstore), called Hodges Figgis. The latter had more Irish interest books than I knew existed.

At that point, I decided to look for a scarf I could take home as a memory of Dublin. I looked and looked and looked without much success. Then I found a little sweater shop near Trinity College that had lots of nice, reasonably priced scarves, sweaters, and the like. I found a scarf that matches perfectly with the brown plaid gloves my dad gave me last Christmas, so I bought that. It’s…well…brown plaid. It has a tan background with cream and dark brown plaid and it’s all loosely woven with tassels on the end. Now I will forever be looking for a matching hat to make it a set. You can’t win ‘em all, I suppose!

I wandered around a little more and I passed the National Museum. I hadn’t planned on going, but I looked it up in my guidebook and realized it was dedicated to Irish history and archaeology—right up my alley! Unfortunately, the gates were closed and the sign posted next to them said, “Closed Mondays.” So I didn’t go to the National Museum.

I went instead to Trinity College to look around. The campus was lovely, and even reminded me of Chicago a little bit.



Trinity has a famous library, so I decided to pay a visit. I couldn’t take any pictures inside, but it was incredible—you’ll have to take my word for it. Definitely, absolutely, without a doubt my favorite part of Dublin. On second thought, I can show you a picture from the internet. It looks a lot like the postcard I bought:

If I ever win the lottery, I want a library like this—full of old musty books!

The other major attraction at Trinity is the Book of Kells, a 9th century Irish illuminated manuscript. I did not see that, however, because I decided that eight Euros to look at a book in a glass case was a bit much. I was quite satisfied with the library anyway.

Then it was about time to start heading to the airport. I went back to Lyndon House to collect my bag, then returned to O’Connell Street to catch the Airport Express. I arrived at the airport a bit earlier than planned, so I ate dinner and finished the book I was reading, Alan Paton’s Cry, The Beloved Country (which I loved). After that, I checked in, passed through security, and went to the gate.

The flight back to London was fairly uneventful. At Gatwick I caught a train to East Croydon, where I had to get off and change trains to get to New Cross. I had a bit of trouble finding the right one, but I eventually did and made it back to Dean House by about 10pm. I was quite tired after all the walking and traveling I had done over the weekend, so I had a good, solid night’s sleep for the first time in a while. (Jet lag and essay writing had until then prevented it.)

Speaking of which…it’s getting late now as well! I leave you with these adventures, but more London happenings are soon to come. Cheers!

Dublin, Part 1

I can make all kinds of excuses as to why I have not yet posted about my weekend in Dublin, which was over two weeks ago now. I have been busy, yes, but mostly the prospect of writing about four days' worth of traveling has been incredibly daunting. These posts take quite a while to write (you know me, I'm a perfectionist), so making myself sit down and do it all in one go has been hard. That's probably why the Frankfurt post never got written...

Ah, well. I thought it might help if I broke my Dublin adventures into two parts. I've finished the first half, so I'll post it now and get cracking on the second half ASAP. (I will, I swear!)

So here goes...Dublin, Part 1:

On Friday 23 of January, I took the 10am Ryanair flight from Gatwick Airport to Dublin. The trip took less than one hour, which was rather fortunate because Ryanair is about a million times worse than Southwest, as budget airlines go. The cabin was an awful combination of out-of-the-bottle blue and safety yellow, the passengers were especially rowdy, and we got neither snacks nor drinks.

About 20 minutes after takeoff we finally broke through the giant mass of fog that seems to constantly be hanging around the London area. The beauty outside the plane was a wonderful distraction from the budget airline hell inside. I had a nice view of southwestern England, then the Irish Sea, and then…Ireland! I was surprised at how green the latter was, even in January.

After we landed in Dublin, I went through immigration, changed some money, and headed toward the bus stop. I rode the Airport Express to the city center, which only took about 20 minutes. (Dublin, as I was soon to learn, is quite small.) I got off on O’Connell Street and made my way to Lyndon House, the bed and breakfast I was staying at for the weekend.

O'Connell St.

Lyndon House

My room wasn’t ready because I arrived a bit earlier than I stated on my booking form, so I dropped off my bag and went out to get some lunch. Since I refuse to eat alone in a restaurant, it was a grab-and-go sandwich for me. I ate as I walked around the Henry Street shopping area.

Henry St.

After about an hour, I returned to Lyndon House to put my things in my room. I was really tired from having to get up so early (I left new Cross at about 6am), so I took a nap. I intended it to be a short one, but it ended up being three hours. (That seems to be my standard nap length for some unfortunate reason.) When I woke up, it was getting dark outside, which put a bit of a damper on my afternoon plans. I ended up just exploring and taking pictures. I walked to the River Liffey, which bisects the city, then made my way to Trinity College, Grafton Street (high-end shopping), and Temple Bar (a happening night spot full of pubs, restaurants, clubs, galleries, and theatres). I went into the Temple Bar Trading Company and bought a couple of postcards. Then, since I had no desire to experience the nightlife on my own, I grabbed some more takeaway and went back to Lyndon House at about 8pm. I had a TV in my room, so I ate dinner, vegged out, and went to bed. That might sound boring, but having a TV is quite a treat, since I don’t have one in Dean House and didn't I have one at Chicago over the last four years!

On Saturday I woke up early, hoping to make up for time spent napping the day before. Since it was a nice day, I decided to go for an excursion outside the city. I also decided to do this because I realized during my Friday evening explorations that Dublin is so small and so walkable I could probably do everything on my list in one (admittedly full) day. I wanted to spread out my city sightseeing, so I hopped on the DART train (Dublin Area Rapid Transit) and headed for Howth (long “o”), a seaside village just north of Dublin.


As you can see, Howth is quite New England-esque! For a while, I wandered around by the harbor and took pictures.



I noticed some signs for a hiking trail up in the cliffs, so I followed them up a hilly street and came across one former residence of William Butler Yeats. Cool!


Then, after a few more minutes of walking, I arrived at the trail head. I walked, and walked, and walked. The further I went, the more incredible the scenery became.



But eventually the trail started getting really muddy. Since I had only brought one pair of sneakers and one pair of pants with me for the whole weekend, I decided to turn back before reaching the summit rather than wear mud-caked clothes for the rest of the weekend. It seemed like a good decision at the time, but once I made it back to the trail head, I regretted it. I was probably so close! And the signs promised a fantastic view of the Wicklow Mountains in the south (where I was headed on Sunday). It would have taken too much time to go back, though, so I kept on toward Howth village. I still hadn’t seen the town center or Howth Castle, and I wanted to see a few things around Dublin as well before it got dark.

As it turned out, the village was incredibly disappointing, which only made me regret turning back from the summit even more. Just about the only interesting thing was this church.


Howth Castle was equally disappointing. It is apparently actively used as a residence, so it’s not open to the public for viewing. But one can walk around it a bit and take pictures. So I did.


After this rather unceremonious end to my Howth excursion, I hopped back on the DART and returned to Dublin. My mission for that afternoon was to see the Old City and catch a movie afterward. I began with Dublin Castle. Perhaps the word “castle” led me to think it would be really neat—like Windsor Castle over here in England. Just like in Howth, however, I was entirely disappointed. Despite being very old (founded in 1205, according to its website), it is now a conference and tourist center. I walked through the yard and took pictures, but didn’t go in. Only a couple of the buildings actually seemed old; the rest were brightly painted. And there were cars parked all over the place, which definitely ruined the whole Viking/medieval feeling.

The only interesting building at Dublin "Castle"

My next stop was St. Patrick’s Cathedral. I wanted to see at least one cathedral, and I figured St. Patrick’s would be apt, considering he’s the patron saint of Ireland and all. I took some pictures outside, paid my 4.50 Euros (yeesh), and went in to have a look around. It was a very nice cathedral, but I wasn’t totally impressed. It was neither very beautiful nor commanding in its presence. Personally I like Southwark Cathedral better, though I have yet to visit Westminster or St. Pauls, which could very well eclipse the former. At any rate, I toured all the naves and nooks, took lots of pictures, and sat down for a few minutes to rest and absorb the atmosphere.




When I emerged it was dark, so I gave up on sightseeing in the Old City and headed toward Temple Bar to catch a movie. I went to the Irish Film Institute and saw Milk. It was excellent and I quite enjoyed it, but I’m not convinced it lives up to the hype. And something about Sean Penn’s acting just wasn’t quite right. That day seemed to be full of disappointments big and small, so I guess Milk was no exception.

After the film I got some Chinese takeaway and took it back to Lyndon House. I ate, vegged out, read, and went to bed. Sunday was another early day. I was off to Wicklow!

* * *

Stay tuned for an account of the day tour of County Wicklow, the final bit of sightseeing around Dublin, and the return to London...

Snow!

The Dublin post is coming, I promise. But to tide you over until then I'll tell you all briefly about the latest wintry turn in the "bloody English weather."

As you can probably guess from the title, it has snowed quite a bit in southern England over the last 24 hours. And by quite a bit I mean...about four to five inches. Being a native New Englander, that seems nothing to get your knickers twisted about (as they say). But that much snow all at once is apparently such a rarity here that no one knew quite what to do! Public transport was shut down, most of the shops in New Cross were shuttered, and Goldsmiths was closed.

I didn't have any lectures today, so that last one didn't affect me much. However, I was rather disappointed to find that the college library was also closed. I was hoping to use the computers there, since the internet was out in the halls from Sunday afternoon until a few hours ago and I was going through serious web withdrawal.

While I'm on the subject: although I missed my almost-nightly Skype session with Ian, having no internet for an extended period of time was a good wake up call. It made me realize not only how dependent I am on the internet, but also how much time I spend sitting in front of the computer surfing aimlessly. (OK, and checking Facebook.)

So last night, instead of parking ourselves at our laptops, my flatmates Steph and Moriah and I, plus Abhi, who lives downstairs, spent several hours in the kitchen together talking over dinner and a chocolate Cadbury cake roll while I simultaneously tended the oatmeal raisin cookies I was baking. Being from India, Abhi had never seen snow before so he was completely enthralled by the white flakes swirling outside. Steph was a bit surprised by the amount that had already accumulated on the cars and sidewalks, but Moriah (who, if you recall, is from New Jersey) and I were nonplussed. To us, this "storm" was hardly that.

When we washed up and called it a night, it was 11pm. I headed to my room and got ready for bed, since there was really nothing else to do. Then I read for about two and half hours before falling asleep. In fact, between yesterday and today I finished an entire book and am halfway through another; I completed the Sherlock Holmes novel A Study in Scarlet and am now working on another Holmes classic, The Sign of Four. So that's one good thing about not having the internet. The bad thing is that no academic reading got done!

I did do some work on my Anthropology of Art II fieldwork project today, though. During the break in which I ventured out to the library, I also took some pictures of snowy, snowy New Cross. Here's what all the commotion is about:

The view from my window.

Good ol' Dean House.

New Cross Road. I ran into Tina just yards from where I took this picture.

Shuttered shops across the street from the main building.

The main building. Closed and covered with snow.

It's sort of ironic that this storm came on the very day that Punxsatawney Phil predicted six more weeks of winter for 2009. Think his forecast applies to England as well? We'll just have to wait and see!