Colonoscopy

So, for reasons too disgusting to detail here, my doctor told me to get a colonoscopy at my last checkup. I put it off until after my trip, but eventually it had to happen, so all this week I've been living on a restricted diet, which on Wednesday because a wholly liquid diet (apparently jelly (UK)/jello (US) counts as a liquid, so I ate a LOT of that). Then today the worst happened: I had to chug a gallon (4 litres, to be exact) of fairly disgusting fluid which flushed RIGHT through me until... well, you don't want to know. Then at 12:15 Joanne drove me in and after waiting a couple of hours in bed with one of those stupid gowns on... ...fortunately they gassed me before ramming a camera up my arse. However, I was only under for about half an hour and didn't feel anything worse than slightly woozy when I came out, so they must have some magic stuff. As you can see from the image below (if you DARE to look closely) I have pearly pink insides. They found one "polyp" which they removed. If it's "pre-cancerous" I have to go back in five years, but if it's not, I can wait ten.

Misty Moisty Morning

Sights and sounds of Oxford (minus the sounds)

I got home last Thursday, but was having computer problems.  Those are fixed now, so I can post some of the pictures I took wandering around the dreaming spires last week.

I discovered that my camera has some cool effects built in. This one blurs the background so that the car is supposed to look like a toy (part of the blurred background is the Eagle and Child, where Tolkien and C.S. Lewis used to meet and talk about elves):
My old stomping grounds of St. Anne's. The ship mural hideous as ever:
Likewise Rayne and its twin block (Wolfson - the nearer one) (I was in Rayne 5 in my first year, but now they've added two layers of locked doors between the outside and it, so I couldn't get near it. I didn't even lock my door back then, AND you could hop over the back wall, which is now covered with some kind of permanently oily gunk).
I wanted to take a short cut down this street but apparently they were filming. "What?" I asked. "Morse" was the reply. "But I thought he was dead?" "Yes but this is YOUNG Morse." Morse will never be allowed to die: they will milk him like a zombie cow. This one is called "Endeavour" apparently.
The view from the toilets in Blackwells:
Granny and Peter, taking me out for dinner at a charitable restaurant whose name escapes me:
See, there I am (fittingly, I have a lean and hungry look):
I also discovered my camera had an "after dark" feature, so I made use of it on the walk back to Mansfield after saying goodbye to my benefactors:

Made it to Mansfield

This is the door that was open when I arrived at the Highwayman in the wee small hours:
And this is the sight that greeted me when I emerged from said door blearily at 7:30 AM (i.e., 2:30 Flint time): In theory I could have walked along the canal all the way into Oxford, but it would have taken a good 3 or more hours, especially with my tiny-wheeled luggage, so I chickened out and took the bus. Besides, it's pretty nippy. I definitely underdressed, misled by the summery conditions the last two times I did this around this time of year. Anyway, I made it to Mansfield College and they let me in my room early:

And here's the shared bathroom, because I know my audience (i.e., me in a couple of years) is clamouring for it:

The Best Bookshop in the World!

And here's proof positive:

Flint to Kidlington in one day

Well, what a day. Actually, it was suspiciously easy. After the scare I got yesterday (well, Sunday - it's after 1 AM Tuesday as I type this on my bed in Kidlington, north of Oxford - at least, I hope it's my bed - more on that later) today went like a breeze. Yesterday I finally looked at the itinerary for my flight and discovered that I flew from Flint at 6:25 AM, arrived in Chicago at 6:35 AM (no, not a ten minute flight - time change from Eastern to Central), but then didn't leave Chicago until nearly ten AT NIGHT. A layover of over 15 hours in a place I could drive to comfortably in 6. How had I allowed this to happen, you ask? Well, it turns out that the company we booked through (V_y_m_ - the "a"s have been ommitted to spare blushes) likes to change the itinerary at random, and while they tell you they've done it, they do it so unobtrusively that I didn't notice. They did it twice and presumably each time increased the layover. Anyway, long story short, I called them up and they forwarded my complaint (along, supposedly, with my cell phone number) to their re-booking agency. Then the swimming described earlier and the sheer good fortune of being in the office on a Sunday at the precise moment when a nice Indian-sounding man (who appeared to be called Solomon) called in. He turned out to be amazing - patient but dogged and got various people from various airlines on the phone, always asking for their names and extensions so they knew they could be tracked down if unsatisfactory, and got my flight from Chicago moved over 12 hours forward. And so to today: I couldn't sleep well at all (I'm covered with some kind of either hives or bedbug bites and I think I cracked a rib playing basketball, but mostly I was anxious about the trip) so I was up by 4 AM and out the door by 5. All the flights were on time, the transatlantic flight landed early in Heathrow, I sailed through the passport check with absolutely no line, arrived at Heathrow Bus Station just as the bus to Oxford was about to pull out, and walked round the corner from Gloucester Green bus station in Oxford on to a bus to Kidlington. Ah yes - about that. The only snag with my changed flight was that there was no way I'd arrive in Oxford in time to get into Mansfield college (where I'm supposed to be staying and where the conference is) before 11PM when the Porter's Lodge closes. This never used to be a problem in my undegraduate days because you could hop over the back wall - but actually you can't even do that nowadays because last time I was here I found out they'd put all kinds of fortifications up. So a new lodging had to be found. Our trusty secretary (who felt a bit responsible for the 15 hour layover snafu) lept into action and booked me into The Highwayman Hotel in Kidlington (she informed me over email that I read in Chicago Airport) I was worried they wouldn't let me in when I got there, which would likely be after 1 AM (turned out to be just before). She checked and said they assured her I would be able to get in. So: the bus driver (who had the thickest Scottish accent I've heard since Gregory's Girl) dropped me off as far up Banbury road as he went, assuring me that no buses went further (although perhaps he meant in the wee small hours, because I walked by plenty more bus stops) and instructed me to keep walking up the road until I crossed a bridge and there it would be. And there it was. A pub. Dark as the grave. But I went round the back and a door was open. Nobody was around, but there was a staircase right there and at the top, the door to room number 4 was open. So here I am, hoping that this is my room and I won't be turfed out. Although, if I am it won't matter because it will have served its purpose by then. Now, as the wifi in the Highwayman is very spotty (although better than the non-existent-albeit-promised wifi on the Heathrow-Oxford bus) I'm writing this on Wordpad, and will now try to post it. Space age toilet hygiene in O'Hare. Still a few bugs in the system. (The mirror is supposed to double as a source of ads. At least Microsoft still has a foothold somewhere.) American Airlines - for that nineteen eighties flying experience. The bus stop the Scottish driver abandoned me at at about 12:30. Fortunately all of Kidlington goes to bed at dusk, apparently, so nobody was awake to inform me that they don't like Gingers round 'ere. After seemingly a good deal more than the quarter mile walk Angus McDriver suggested, I arrive at the Highwayman. Note complete absence of any lights on. Nonetheless, I commandeered this room (in true highwayman fashion - I took it because I wanted it and it was there! Hah! I've never felt so ALIVE!) Dandy Highwaymen everywhere will appreciate the wifi password...

Ava's First Birthday

Emily's little girl, Ava, turned one today, and Frederick was invited to the party. It was at a church we'd never been to before - fortunately there were signs:

Strange doings by our office building

Apparently the Police get to use the university handicapped parking lot for special motorcycle proficiency tests. Or at least they were using it for that purpose this Sunday. And pretty proficient this rider was, I can attest. (We were going in to swim and then for Frederick to watch YouTube for a bit in my office. Turns out it was a very good thing we did, because the travel agency that had me booked to have a FIFTEEN HOUR layover in Chicago called the office while I was there and I got to lop more than 12 hours off it. Exciting day, let me tell you.)

Well, that didn't last long

I've heard of an indian Summer...

But this is ridiculous:

Coming to England Soon

For those of you who don't know but yet might care, I will be visiting Blighty very briefly in a couple of weeks to present at this conference, at Mansfield College in Oxford. For God's sake don't show up to the talk, but if you're in the vicinity and would like to meet up, that would be nice.

Expensive Car Misadventure

The Sunday before last, my beloved Prius underwent a mishap of a nature that I shall leave unspecified, but that left the front end crumpled. Only yesterday did I get it back, and in the intervening time I had to rent the car below. Now, this was not unpleasant, because it's brand new and had satellite radio, but it turned out that having it for 11 days (longer than necessary, because the body shop sent an estimate to the insurance agency that they balked at and were making noises about investigating until I told them [after "conversations" that ranged from apoplectic to desperate on my part] that it shouldn't include the (old) scrape down the side and should only include the front end, and also because Monday was Labor Day holiday) added up rather alarmingly. However, now I have my car back. Now that I DO have it back, though, I see what Jami was complaining about all this time - it does have a nasty smell! It took 11 days away for my nose to stop ignoring it. Any tips?

Yawn! More walking, more lakes

Today is "Labor Day" here in the good ol' US of A, which means, confusingly, that it's a holiday and nobody works. Desperate for something to do that was open (and pretty much sick to death of the parks we go to ALL THE TIME - plus it's a lot cooler today, so I wasn't up to swimming, even if F. would have been) I looked up what Genesee County Parks had to offer that was new. I found "Hogbacks Area", which sounded intriguing, and I dragged Frederick off to see them. Turns out they were great - a wilder version of Seven Lakes. Unfortunately, "wilder" means "no signs, so very easy to get lost", so the end of the trek was a little fraught, but we made it. We even bumped into some horse riders along the way. Most of the time was spent walking entirely round the lake featured prominently below: "Not long now, I promise! The GPS SWEARS the car's just over there..."