DPP 5: Soap Bubbles and Sweet Grace

Despite the fact that I'm married to one of the most gracious and considerate men in the universe, I still find marriage incredibly difficult. Recently, however, I've had occasion to notice that I am among the most blessed wives in the world: my husband loves me, and delights in the interests I pursue outside our home, and helps out both when I'm too exhausted to move as well as when I'm just being lazy. He is my rock on so many occasions . . .

. . . and tonight is one of them.

Thank you, my love, for doing the dishes just to bless me, and thanks, MP, for raising a man who knows how to wash things.

DPP 4: Cocoa & Conversation

I fully meant to post a photo of this morning's Farmers' Market, but was for the most part so busy wading through snowdrifts to get to the stalls of the few merchant-farmers who were able to make it to Fife that I took barely any photos. It's pretty cold still, and after a busy morning of shopping and errands my wonderful husband took me first to the library and then out for wonderful warm cocoa and conversation.

DPP 3: Water and Wine

Tonight Isaac's research group went out for an elegant Christmas dinner (to which I was also invited by association). We had a wonderful time and left sated, happy, and quite ready for bed.

DPP 2: Where Words Wander

This is a street I love in a city I love. The owner of this bookshop is a retired English teacher and a really delightful man, and I've parted with vast sums of money on account of the treasures his shop once contained (until I bought them).

Also, this is St Andrews at 4 pm in the winter (it's about this dark at midnight in the summers). We still have a little snow on the ground!

DPP 1: The Church is Cold

Day 1: St Andrews Cathedral under a blanket of our most recent snow flurry.

Winter Wonderland

One of the unusual things about St Andrews is its comparatively balmy weather. A former professor of mine described the Kingdom of Fife, in which St Andrews is located, as the "banana belt" of Scotland. On account of its amazingly close proximity to the North Sea and Gulf Coast, the temperature in St Andrews only rarely drops below freezing, and--as I was told shortly after I moved here for the first time--it never snows.

This claim that it never snows, which I dutifully repeated (with great chagrin) to friends and family alike was fully borne out by my first winter in the UK, when it was cool but rainy for most of the winter months. It was repeated to my parents before they came last winter, narrowly missing an airport closure in Edinburgh and barely able to visit Stirling Castle because of road closures (Stirling, incidentally, is further inland and closer to the Highlands, so it was perfectly acceptable to have had snow there). However, we also had a mostly white Christmas here in St Andrews, by the North Sea despite the Gulf Stream. (Here's my Dad by said North Sea and Gulf Stream:
).

Right. So last year was an unusual winter--one of the coldest in recent UK history. It was a lovely and beautiful change from what I'd expected, and I figured that few people would ever get to see the lovely glory of St Andrews covered in snow as I had.

Until now.



This is Isaac very early on Sunday morning, after we both saw the amazing snowflakes drifting across the windowpane and dashed outside for an impromptu midnight hike, snowball fight, and snow angel creation. Please note the large gust of snow being blown up out of the sea towards his head. It was just that windy . . . and much glorious fun.

We've had flurries every day since Friday, and only the fact that we live so close to the Gulf Stream has kept us from getting the two or three feet of snow present in towns only a few miles further inland. Ours has mostly turned to ice and slush, but it's beautiful during the flurries and immediately afterwards!



Also, I'll be trying something new for December. A friend of a friend is sponsoring the December Photo Project, in which one blogs or posts a photo every day for the first 25 days of December, and I'll be attempting this (we'll see how it goes). You may not get much explication, but you could potentially see some pretty photos . . .

Reading Away From Home

St. Andrews has a fabulous institutional invention they call "Reading Week," where students who aren't bogged down with their workload fly away to ski in some glamorous European destination, and students who wish to catch up on reading and research have a quieter town and library.

This year, a few friends and I ventured down to London to do some reading in the British Library, and then I journeyed over to Oxford (city I love above all others) to enjoy some rare manuscripts in the Bodleian.

Upon arrival in London, the girls and I visited the largest toy store in the UK, which was swamped with people and, of course, toys.


On Sunday, because the British Library was closed, we took a train journey to Hampton Court, former home of Henry VII and some other well-known monarchs.

The wine cellar:

The Great Hall, in which some of Shakespeare's plays premiered, I believe:

Possibly the most amazing bed I have ever seen in my life:

I think this is the more modern wing of the house, built by William and Mary more than a century later:

Part of the enormous gardens:

The tree on the right has enormous clumps of mistletoe:


Because I happened to be in London only a few days after Guy Fawkes Day, I had a chance to see some marvelous fireworks in Victoria Park with an old friend (and many new friends, most of whom kindly put me up at their home for a few days).


The weekend over, I settled down to work (taking a break one evening to watch the new cast of Les Mis put on a fine, if slightly less-polished, production).

On Wednesday, I was off to Oxford, city of my love and dreams and a home away from home. That this half the trip was marvellous despite the very little sleep I had each night should tell you how much I love this city and the amazing manuscripts it holds in numerous libraries.

The Old Bod, where I spent most of my last trip (though the manuscripts department has unfortunately moved since then):


I had supper the first night with a good friend (randomly also in Oxford) in the pub where the Inklings once met. My second day in the city was also Remembrance Day, celebrated with two minutes of silence in the reading rooms (differentiated from the other silence only by the ringing of a small bell!) and a trip to the amazing Christ Church College Cathedral, where I had a chance to hear Mozart's Requiem performed live by a rather amazing choir.


On Friday, I caught the sleeper train home . . .



(I think Isaac may have missed me).