Graham Has 4 Teeth

Life goes on without us. Miriam laid brick with Will, J. Bizzle painted (and Mrs. Dr. Bizzle supervised, natch), even our dogs are hanging with Grandpa without a care in the world.

We, meanwhile, never leave the house without a jacket and umbrella. We're armed, dammit.

Today, we sallied forth at 9, having dialed the coffee in the presspot back to 5 scoops from 6. The box said to use 9. This morning's coffee was slightly less like petroleum, somewhat more like mud. Charles says he made a pot this afternoon with 4 scoops, and it tasted pretty good. To me, it's all irrelevant, since I've basically stopped drinking anything but tea. So far today I'm up to 5 cups. And counting! I even bought cookies to eat with tea. Shortbread...mmm.

I picked up lunch today at the tuck shop I tested yesterday. Today's selection, since there were fewer people and thus I was less self-conscious: chicken tikka. Basically, this is chicken salad with some Indian yumminess tossed in. They wipe the bread (ciabbata) with chutney, too. Obvy: it was terrible. Truly bad. Inedible. I didn't lick the plastic wrap, though, and you can't prove I did.

So I worked away the morning, reading about how Sallie Edwards (Nast's wife) and her family treated James Parton (her cousin) and his wife badly. They didn't like the fact that his wife was a published authoress with her own money and that she publicly advocated women dressing in men's clothes. They were quite rude. Once, Sallie was talking with Parton's step-daughter, Grace. They had just bought a new house, and Sallie asked how big the drawing room was (does that qualify as scintillating conversation, by 19th century standards?). Grace said it was big enough to do somersaults in. Sallie was so horrified by Grace's unladylike behavior that she decided she and her sisters would not socialize with Grace and her sister. Charming.

After lunch I introduced myself to Linda Kerber. Arnita Jones at the AHA and Miriam said I ought to do so, and I did. Kerber was pleasant, and when she asked how I knew Arnita I said, "Miriam is my best friend." And she said, "A woman with excellent taste!" So there you go.

After lunch I had to stalk some poor girl to get a desk. It's exam time here, so the desks are all filled with unshaven, dirty, muttering undergraduates, madly studying. The Harmsworth library has a 3 story atrium which all the floors overlook. So when the woman behind me answered her cell phone, everyone stopped and looked up. I held up my hands, "not me!" Then she actually said, "I can't talk; I'm in the library." Genius.

So I inserted all sorts of juicy stories today, including the previously unknown fact that Sallie Nast's mother married her father in a total Jane Eyre scenario. She was the governess to George Edwards' daughter and son. Then Mrs. Edwards died. Presto, chango: new Mrs. Edwards. Three more daughters later, Sallie Nast marries Thomas Nast and I start digging around in their family secrets. I figure I'll get a little late revenge for Mrs. Parton by re-telling that story. They should have been nicer.

Charles met me at the Rothermere at 5:30, and we walked up the road to try to check out the Covered Market. I think that the CM is actually a fairy tale, though, because it was closed again. So let's just keep track: Sunday, closed; Monday, closed for bank holiday; Tuesday, closed at 5. We figure that in order to actually get in we'll have to go at 9am, but I wouldn't put it past them to open only on alternate Wednesdays from 11-2 when there's a full moon.

Marching onward through the hordes of Japanese, Australian, and American tourists, we tried first a pub (ack! Claustraphobia!), then a diner (closed, natch), then a greek takeaway with 3 tiny tables. That last one proved the charm, and I had a wonderful square of spanikopita with tomato salad and hummus. Charles had 2 chicken skewers with hummus and pita. I ate his tomato salad. Then I got a triangle of homemade baklava to go.

So far as we can tell, it's an Oxford rule that you have to eat on the street. If you pass 20 people, I guarantee that at least 10 will be eating something. So Charles stopped at a Kabab cart (like LA lunch trucks except they serve: pizza, burgers, kabobs, gyros, fries, and baked potatoes. yes, baked potatoes. And you can get one with beans on it. No joke) and bought a small order of chips. One pound!! That's like a quarter! Ok, actually, it's 2 bucks, but because it's a tiny little coin, it feels like a quarter. And they were really, really good.

Then we walked home, noting pubs that look good and trying to navigate the sidewalks, which are crammed with parked cars and broken beer bottles and overgrown hedges. People here generally walk with their heads down, which might be mistaken for humility. It's actually a survival mechanism designed to prevent falling down. The sad part is: Oxford isn't exactly Detroit. It'd be nice to look up now and then.

Tomorrow: I get an office.