Roast duckling, missing tortoises, and the beauty that age and money can buy

Well, I walked into Balliol for the first time ever today, and it is almost too beautiful for words.  Regent's Park is quite pretty, and the red ivy is lovely, but there is a breathtaking grandeur to the rich old colleges (and in this case a luscious beauty) that is really incomparable.  I wish I had taken my camera.

I was there for a meeting of the Oxford Walking Club, which I am now a member of.  More than that, I spent 130 quid towards weekend trips this coming term.  It seems a bit extravagant, both in money and time, but when I really think through my priorities, experiencing England is near the top.  And consistently hearing how almost impossible distinctions/firsts really are (an impossibility that I'm required to attain in order to remain for a DPhil) has served to convince me, not that I should spend all my hours in the library, but that I should take full advantage of this year, as it's quite possibly all I will get.

Part of that "taking full advantage" involves joining the Regent's Park novice rowing team, which I've done (along with two other MSt students).  We haven't actually been out on the river yet, but tomorrow morning we head out bright and early (6:30) for a crash course on staying afloat.  And tonight, after shoveling down dinner, we have to pass a swimming test, fully clothed, to prove that we won't drown in the event of a capsize.

In other news, I have yet to meet Emmanuella, the 90-year-old tortoise, but I keep a lookout every time I walk through the quad (apparently she likes to sun herself on warm days).

Also, I would like to commend the Regent's Park caterers as being truly excellent.  While I know it seems a bit decadent to complain about George Fox's cuisine, when there was food in such abundance, I have to say that it is a joy to have truly delicious food at every meal.  For formal hall (which takes place every Friday evening) we had roast duck in a delectable sauce, the name of which I cannot remember.  We also bowed every time we entered or left the room, and looked very serious in our official robes.  The only downside was being informed that one rule of formal hall is not to discuss the portraits hanging on the walls, which, of course, made me look at them for the first time.  Which then led me to realize that only one of the myriad of official looking scholars was a woman (who did not happen to look very official, or very scholarly, and was hidden away in a far corner).

I could go on, but alas, dinner beckons.  As they say on this side of the pond, cheers.