Wandering about Old Blighty, the Dowbrigade has escaped to a tranquil English Garden belong to his new friend Norm, of DynEd fame, while recovering from the transatlantic flight and preparing for the legal decathalon which begins Monday.
It’s been 36 years since the last time we were kicked out of merry olde England, but they seem to be ready to let bygones be bygones and we were admitted without preconditions. At first, it hardly seemed like we were in a foreign country; all the signs were in English, and the architecture of the airport and the highway presented no novelties. Even the fact that everyone was driving on the wrong side of the street seemed a mere glitch in our dislexic wrold-view.
But when we got to Norm’s place, in a cheery rural town in the English countryside called Chearsley, suddenly it seemed we had been dropped into a Hobbit prequel. Shady, winding paths like green tunnels through the vines and bushes, stone cottages with thatched doors, houses with names like “Hobbleston” and “Turnip Close”, a 13th century church with lapidary stones worn to illegibility, a pub called the Bell, flowers, berries, nuts, ferns, vines and thorn bushes everywhere, dogs, cats and burros peeking from behind stone walls and banks of bushes, everything altogether foreign once one looks closely.
Much dizzying discussion of teaching, programming, interface design, information management and the weather, meeting people and drinking caffinated beverages has ensued. More acclimation exercises planned for this evening. By tomorrow weshould be fully recovered and ready to begin exploring.
No thought yet to the fact that we have to being teaching the entire history and structure of the US Legal System, case by case, begining Monday 9am, to 30 whip-smart Euro-lawyers. Time enough to worry about that on Sunday…..
Stay tuned.
Great text.
Revolution Televised?
I would really love for the follow-up to be posted. Great read.
good stuff. i luv the flowers
Good stuff. Waiting for more…
“But when we got to Norm’s place, in a cheery rural town in the English countryside called Chearsley, suddenly it seemed we had been dropped into a Hobbit prequel… a 13th century church with lapidary stones worn to illegibility, a pub called the Bell, flowers, berries, nuts, ferns, vines and thorn bushes everywhere, dogs, cats and burros peeking from behind stone walls and banks of bushes, everything altogether foreign once one looks closely.”
Good point. We agreed.
John from Contenu gratuit
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