DPP Day 25: Knots So Hard

After the mad gift-giving spree of our first Christmas (facilitated by the fact that my parents came and I.'s family sent gifts along with them) and the abundant presents under the tree on our second Christmas (more family visits and more family gifts), the unwrapping portion of this year's day was a little more relaxed. Still, I tied one of I.'s gifts so elegantly that he was forced to get out his lockpicks (and eventually a good blade) before the contents could be revealed.

DPP Day 24: To Market, To Market . . .

I am told that a major holiday is scheduled to take place within the next few days or so, which (apparently) is the cause for the hundreds and thousands of shoppers who were clogging up most of the sidewalks and store aisles in Edinburgh today. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a leisurely stroll to the weekly farmers' market, where we purchased a fat pig (well, part of him or her) and some cider made by one of our favourite brewers. The market was lovely and exciting, as ever.

DPP Day 23: There's No Taste Like Scone

Back in the day, I. managed to find himself a job at one of the more popular cafes in St Andrews (after which, both we and our friends became significantly pickier about the items we would and would not eat from their kitchen). Part of his job was to arrive early in the morning to make two batches of scones (in bulk), that would emerge from the ovens, fresh and warm, by the time the cafe opened. (I still think my scone recipe from my postgraduate year was better, but most of my peers disagree). At any rate, today he performed a small-scale reprise of this once-significant task, and surprised me with fresh scones, strawberry jam, and a tub of clotted cream for breakfast.

For the uninitiated, clotted cream tastes a little like whipping cream (but better)but and the consistency of butter. Traditionally it comes from the milk of a certain breed of cows from a certain county of England, but I believe these rules are often bent. I am not sure that any more amazing food exists, and, although we eat it pretty sparsely (you know, for health reasons) it is one of the things I miss most when we are in America. I. considered himself to have survived romantically when he passed clotted cream on the list of things I like. At any rate, our breakfast was magnificent:

DPP Day 22: Sun Light, Sun Bright

In photography, timing can be everything, and today's photograph was a masterpiece of timing. Last night was the longest night of the year, and the past week or so, although the weather has been warm and the rain has stayed scarce, has been a week of beautiful, billowy, grey clouds. Today the sunbeams reached through the clouds on two separate (but brief) occasions, and on the latter of these, I was speedy enough to grab my camera out of my bag and photograph the resulting sunbeams and shadows before they faded away.

Although my library carrel did have an awesome view over the Lothian hills (pictured in yesterday's photograph), the image captured in this photograph more or less reflects my day (I read all but four of the books pictured), which was mostly spent working very hard on research for my thesis and, later, grading student essays from my online course. No rest for the weary, they say, whomever 'they' is.

DPP Day 21: Books with a View

Today: a rousing day of research excitement in the Edinburgh University Library (another reason I'm glad and blessed that we moved to Edinburgh this year). In between staring out across the beautiful hills as the sun set a little before four, and leaving the library when the fire alarm went off, I managed to read a lot of books (about fifteen) and take a lot of notes (several thousand words). Productivity gives satisfaction.

DPP Day 20: Climb of Twine

This afternoon, for a study break from my virtual grading stack, I dragged I. into the great wide world of Leith for an afternoon stroll. The skies were grey but not releasing water droplets (an improvement over yesterday) and we walked through the nearby Links park, which--like St Andrews--claims to be the home of golf. The park is quite large and features a lovely playground, near to which is this amazing rope construction (easily fifteen or twenty feet high) upon which, we determined, children are also allowed to play. We enjoyed the grey-blue skies, the fresh ocean air, and the chance to see our neighbourhood in the daylight before heading back to our cosy flat, armed anew with a stack of books we discovered in a nearby charity shop at remarkably low prices.

DPP Day 19: Home, Sweets, & Home

Well, it's a week before Christmas and it's fair to say that my schedule hasn't lessened much. Between now and the New Year, I have 9,000 words to write on my thesis (this deadline may stretch a little), research to do and an abstract to write on Shakespearean biographies, more than thirty episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation to watch (no, I'm not kidding; this is for research, I promise!), sixteen (possibly seventeen, if the missing one appears) papers to grade, more than thirty student essays also to grade, a Christmas knitting project to finish, and--the fun part--this gingerbread house to finish:

I've wanted to make a gingerbread house for almost as long as I can remember, and this year I finally made the time. Decorating it was, today, my treat at the end of a long day of writing and grading, and I spent hours (quite literally) making a snow-covered roof with dormer windows. Of course the house looks nothing like the ones I remember seeing in my childhood (the retirement community near my grandparents' house used to have an enormous and elaborate display each December) but I keep telling myself that this is just a first try, and that next year's will be much, much better. The best part, however, is that when I'm tired and burnt out from reading and evaluating the essays in my virtual stack, I can turn my energies to something a little more creative and less mentally taxing. Besides, I think it will taste nice when it's ready to be dismantled . . .

DPP Day 18: Warmth and Light

Today I. and I ventured out to a Scottish Episcopal Church located only a few blocks from our flat. We've been to many churches here, primarily Scottish Episcopal, Church of England (Anglican), and Church of Scotland (Presbyterian), but even reading the church website, which mentioned alternative spaces and a commitment to involving children in the service, didn't quite prepare me for the service itself.

As we walked down the block nearest the church, we noticed its large old steeple and beautiful rounded architecture. As we walked up to the building itself, we noticed the panes of glass missing from the stained glass windows, and then the signs to the entrance located in the parish hall rather than the church itself. The service was held in the church hall (smaller, easier to heat (I expect), and the location of services for this congregation since--another parishioner guessed--the 1970s. Everything about our service was carefully and beautifully planned, but not ostentatious in the way that so many Episcopalian churches can be. The chairs were arranged in a wide circle (with four paths) with the Advent wreath on a table in the middle. This was moved about (with candles still lit) to provide space for the children's Christmas play, and also served as the table upon which communion was prepared. Only one priest wore robes, and these were simple; there was no altar; the members of staff sat in the circle of seats among the congregants and stood up to read or pray (we didn't even realise who the rector was until he introduced himself after the evening service). Parts of the liturgy were updated, but the spirit was still there. Children ran through the room, squirmed on their seats, participated in the passing of the peace, and were still humming the communion hymn after the service had ended. Many members of the congregation made it a point to come and welcome us after the service, and we were warmly invited to return this evening for the carol service (which we did). I've attended dozens of churches in my lifetime, and I can not once recall ever having been greeted so warmly as I was in this one.

The church is home for a number of local artists and scholars, including a puppeteer, a poet, and several professors at a nearby university. I assume the congregation also includes a skilled painter, because the walls were decorated with three beautiful murals showing the silhouetted skyline of Leith; these same walls became part of the Advent celebration, as a number of smaller images added around the murals had been covered over to create a large-scale Advent calendar; but on my picture of today, the small square images were once covered over in paper and painted over in blue to match the rest of the image; during the service, the children were asked to go up to the wall and help peel off the outer layers to reveal these "windows of light." I'm not doing the concept justice in my verbal description, but it was a fun and innovative way to involve the children in the service, and I. and I quite enjoyed it.

DPP Day 17: Skyline Abroad

No story today; this is, simply, the view we had walking home: a skyline of city houses silhouetted against the ever-darkening blue of the late afternoon sky. Beautiful.

DPP Day 16: Shop! In the Name of Edinburgh . . .

At Christmas time, Edinburgh goes a little crazy (much of it in a good way). An enormous open-air German Christmas market sets up booths all down the eastern half of Prince's Street gardens, offering trivialities such as photographs and wooly scarves to give as gifts, as well as culinary delights including waffles, mulled wine, and German beer. The Ferris wheel towers over the landscape (dominating everything but the Walter Scott monument, which is a formidable piece of landscaping) and a number of other rides spin and whirl to the delight of thousands of otherwise-bored children. There is also an ice skating rink, with prices so steep that the year I. and I decided to go, we hastily backed away and made other plans. Offset against the old-world charm of the market, with its brightly coloured signs and wooden booths, is the high street shopping across Prince's Street itself. Dozens of department stores and smaller shops (almost all chains) advertise their wares using more modern methods, such as garish signs plastered to the windows that promise massive savings if you will only spend, spend, spend!

The sky today as I. and I walked into town was gorgeous, and today's photograph does not really do it justice. We are in the season of hour-long sunsets now: this photo was snapped at half two or so, the sky only got more stunning thereafter, and the sun had set fully by four o'clock. Here is the looming tower of the Scott monument (or as much as could be gotten into a photo with my rather close lens), the serene repose of the castle, and the bustle of the Christmas market and dozens of high street shoppers. This is Edinburgh: not all elegance, but not all bustle either.

DPP Day 15: The Perfect Meal

A British friend of mine last year introduced me to an amazing and (in Europe) inexpensive supper that requires less effort than almost every other supper that requires cooking but still tastes amazing. The brilliance of this meal relies on the cheapness of brie in Britain; the wheel of brie (uncut, which is very important) is baked for about half an hour in the oven (for the perfect meal, stick some breadsticks in about ten minutes before the end and uncap a bottle of red wine to breathe at the same time) and then enjoyed by dipping breadsticks into it. If you are a fan of brie, this is unspeakably delicious.

At any rate, here is the fresh-baked brie my husband pulled out of the oven shortly after I arrived home today, a little weary from my last day of teaching, but refreshed and revitalised by our wonderful (and inexpensive) supper.

DPP Day 14: Wolf Howl

In our neighbourhood (Leith) it isn't unusual for residents visiting one of the nearby shops to tie their dogs up outside the doors. Tonight as I made a quick dash to the discount grocery shop, there were three miserable pups tied up in the square, but this one was by far the most disheartened, and quite vocal about his distress as well.

[Belated] DPP Day 13: No Place Like Home

Yesterday was a long day. I rushed to the library, flew through my manuscripts, bolted a tea, dashed to the train, and flew back to Scotland, Isaac in tow. There were few opportunities for photographs that wouldn't have been creepy to those crammed alongside me on public transport or otherwise generally not permitted, and I was weary long before I even left the library.

Edinburgh welcomed us with open arms, which in Edinburgh often translates to sleeting rain. Not to worry: we clambered onto the bus, I snapped this very unglamorous photo of "home" (which Edinburgh considers Arthur's Seat at sunset, though that sight is not visible from our flat), and the bus kindly dropped us off right outside our front door, keeping us warm and dry along the journey. I miss London--or, particularly, the amazing books she keeps locked in her libraries and archives--but I shall return, and it is good, at last, to be home.

[Belated] DPP Day 12: Day is Donne

'Tis true that the British Library, even with the impressive glass King's Library in the centre of its main hall, doesn't really compete for elegance with the old reading room in the British Museum. Alas. On the other hand, what it lacks in antique elegance, it makes up for with efficiency and useability. Reading rooms are light and the desk space is satisfactory. Tea at the cafe is inexpensive, for tea in London. The lockers are suitably sized, and there are many of them.

By midday, these lockers are usually one long wall of flat, closed, locked doors. In the mornings and in the evenings, however, this is a more common sight: hundreds of doors ready to bear one's backpack and personal items, so that we researchers can enter the reading rooms themselves with only the barest essentials: laptop or notebook, pencil, reader card, and locker key. The ability to lock one's things away and take only what is necessary improves focus when researching--and I enjoyed the angles of the locker doors themselves.

[Belated] DPP Day 11: Elephant in Castle

On my first ever visit to London, I was pretty flexible about the places I wanted to see. My parents and I had six full days in the city, and my top three goals for the trip were to have a British cream tea, to see a West End show (one of three: Les Miserables, The Phantom of the Opera, or the then-running The Woman in White, this latter now mostly forgotten in the wake of a short run and some pretty scathing reviews), and to visit the Tower of London. (Because my parents are awesome, we not only did all three things, but went to see all three of the shows specified, and also visited Oxford for a day, during which excursion I caught my first glimpse of the Bodleian Library). These were valuable and unforgettable experiences, still remembered and loved long after that original trip, and ones which I try to recreate (except the tea, which was ridiculously expensive) for the friends and family members I have since had the opportunity to show around London.

Despite its slightly steep admission fees, the Tower of London is an excursion near and dear to my heart, and I might actually be convinced to go on every trip to London were it not that I usually have pressing other things to do, such as reading and analysing rare manuscripts. So despite the fact that I've visited London more times than I can easily count on one hand, this was only the third time that I've been inside its magnificent gates. It is still magical. More to the point, on each successive visit I've been amazed by just how much there is to see in the Tower itself; I find myself feeling that there will never be enough time to see all the treasures it contains. On this particular visit, I entered the Beauchamp Tower (with amazing carved "graffiti" from past prisoners) for the first time, had a chance to see the top-floor armoury dragon in the White Tower, and, coming down the hill, caught a glimpse of this awesome elephant statue near one of the exits (which I have somehow, despite my love for elephants, missed on the past two trips).

Many other delights, familiar and new, were also to be had, but this little statue captured my heart and provided a nice respite from photos of walls and arms, which make up most of the rest of my Tower photo collection.

[Belated] DPP Day 10: Santa Maybe?

Now that we're safely back home, it's probably safe to comment that one of the perks of living in Edinburgh is its easy access to the airport. When we lived in Fife, it was necessary either to schedule our flights for sometime after eleven o'clock or to spend the night before the flight in Edinburgh (we've done both). Travel required walking to the bus stop, taking a bus (ten minutes) to the rail station, taking the train (an hour or more) to Edinburgh, taking another bus (forty minutes) to the airport, and only then proceeding with the normal pre-flight procedures with which most air travellers are familiar.

Last Friday, we walked out of the flat, waited at the bus stop beneath our windows for seven minutes, took the bus to the airport (granted, a long bus ride, but one with no connections!) and were in the air by 7 a.m. and in London by ten past ten.

After a busy day researching (Friday) and supper at a favourite restaurant (see Friday's DPP), we headed to a favourite holiday flat in Lewisham and, on Saturday, caught up with a friend from the states for two days of exciting tourist adventures. And, of course, this more than anything is the point at which the December Photo Project is difficult, because in choosing this photo--a "flash mob" of Santas in Victoria rail station--I had to veto some excellent candids of a fire juggler, an open air market, an open air book stall, and Darth Vader teaching a little boy about light sabers. Tough life.

DPP Day 9: Past Connections

A long, long time ago, I spent my time in Britain calling my now-husband once a week and my parents slightly less frequently. Many of these connections transpired on Skype, but whenever I was out of St Andrews--whether in Edinburgh, Oxford, London, or further afield--they often transitioned into telephone booths. I spent hours standing in these familiar red booths (sometimes cold, sometimes damp, sometimes adorned with advertisements suggesting that I might be interested in an escort for the evening) talking and chatting until the weather and my feet got the better of me. These two booths, photographed from inside one of my favourite restaurants in the world, are two of the booths in which I made such calls: I have stood inside them, and was very happy, as I. and I shared supper this evening, that I would be going home again to talk with him in person, rather than standing in one for an hour as we caught up on our days.

DPP Day 8: Quiet Hours

I love my morning commute. Scotland in the winter only has about six hours of sun each day and most of my commute is made in darkness, with the early glimmers of what often become hour-long sunrises slipping into the sky as I draw near to Leuchars. The earliest portion of my commute involves a walk through half-awake Leith and up a slight hill to Waverley Rail station, which stands at the end of the German Christmas market that takes place in Edinburgh each December. At night, the market is abuzz with lights and laughter; in the morning it is empty and silent, lurking in the shadow of the Scott Monument on Prince's Street. I love the anticipation and restfulness of the market in the morning:

In other news, the fact that I was able to make my commute at all was a small miracle today, as I ended up on one of the last trains out of Edinburgh and arrived in St Andrews oblivious to the massive winter storm that was sweeping across Scotland. By the time I had finished teaching, most of the bridges out of Fife were closed, and it had become, for most intents and purposes, an island kingdom once again. (Fife's insular structure made it a high-profile potential point of attack in World War II, and some of the British defenses are still visible on beaches on the North Sea coast). One doesn't typically begin a daily commute with the intention of visiting the opposite side of one's country on the way home, but as the only way back to my husband was via Glasgow (and the lady behind the counter at the bus station told me that travel to Edinburgh was impossible) I took the requisite detour and eventually found my way back to Edinburgh, slightly battered by wind and rain along the way.

DPP Day 7: Travel Views

I don't regret our move to Edinburgh very often, and to be quite honest, the things I miss in St Andrews are mostly people and experiences. It is difficult to have supper out, or enjoy a night at the pub with friends, and still get home. Attending parties--such as a good friend's Thanksgiving bash last month--requires careful attention to bus and train times, deliberate advance planning, and the willingness to leave a party an hour or two earlier than we would normally depart.

My Thursday commute is sometimes an exhausting one, and one timed to the minute (except that I am a little paranoid about missing the train, so I actually budget 15 minutes at the rail schedule into my travel time). The essays handed in two weeks ago have been the new bane of my life, however, and I've ended up travelling to St Andrews on five separate days, sometimes by bus (literally a nauseating prospect) and sometimes by train (my preferred transit, but also a slightly more expensive one). I've spent nearly twenty hours on busses and trains in the past two weeks!

Tonight as I was coming home after another day of essay marking (and a forgotten School party, and a meeting with my advisor) I looked out the window as the train pulled into Waverley and saw a lovely sight: the beautiful Christmas decorations on Prince's Street. This photo doesn't really do them justice, but it is a fairly close approximation of my train-window view, which was a pleasant surprise not only because they were pretty, but because the appearance of the numerous blue lights framed in the windows of the train told me that after a long day of hard work, I had come home at last.

DPP Day 6: Around and Around the Flat

One of the amazing things about Leith is its history as a centre of industry and commerce. Many of the flats that are now converted into businesses and homes began as warehouses and factories, a striking benefit of which, today, is their high ceilings and well-insulated walls. Our first-floor flat (which is on the second floor in American terms, just to be confusing) stays fairly warm on all but the coldest days (as well as Sundays, when the shops below us are closed) and has ceilings so tall that I. and I both have difficulty changing the overhead lightbulbs even when standing on chairs. (This is a pleasant change from our last flat, which provided us with many bumps and bruises on our heads when we forgot to duck going through the doorways).

I don't know the date of our staircase, but it is steep and stone and elegant, with a beautiful iron railing that runs from the base all the way to the top floor (to which I've never yet been). Although a little treacherous in heels, it is a pretty impressive feat of engineering, and I enjoy coming home to something splendid, if aging, each night.