(Written over 12 hours starting on Dec 2, just posted online Dec 3 due to unforeseen internet complications)

I’m finally in England.  It feels strange, partially because I’m seriously jetlagged, and partially because everything is so new, every moment seems somewhat disconnected to the previous experience.  (See jetlag.)

I started December 1rst at my daughter’s house in Oklahoma City at 6:30 am.  I woke, dressed, roused the family (except my husband who was still under the effects of his sleep medication), and left by 7:45.  I got to my mother’s in Dallas by 11:30 and got my hair braided.  My mother can do a French braid that hair can not escape from: since I expected to be traveling all day, this is a good way to not have to bother with it.  I then played a game of what would be the best way to do what comes next with my step dad, sister, and mother, until it was time to get to the airport at 3:00 pm. 

The plane left Dallas for Atlanta on time, at 5:00, landed slightly early, but I still had to rush to meet the flight for Manchester.  It was kind of a shame, because the Atlanta airport distinguishes itself from other international airports with a display of Chinese shadow puppets, a Martin Luther King, Jr. exhibit, and a couple of muppets. 

A lady named Phyllis sat next to me on the plane.  We spoke of her grandchildren she had visited for Thanksgiving, tatting, and the weather in England, among other topics.  I tatted a snowflake for her.  She seemed most appreciative.  (It was a way to pass the time.)  I managed a light snooze for about and hour and a half.  We landed at the Manchester airport at 11:00 am, local time, about half an hour later than we should have.  I dragged my luggage outside and a lovely gentleman asked if I wanted a taxi, luv.  I got quite a kick out of being called luv the first thing here in the country.

I checked into my hotel early.  Everything is booked this weekend, though no one seems to know why.  I got a Harry Potter style room.  It is under the stairs, the only one in the basement floor where they also have the breakfast room, only slightly wider than a twin sized bed and about twice as long.  I have to pass a nice, medieval style wooden door as well, giving the comparison emphasis.  It does have its own bathroom and shower, and all the hot water I can use, which is good, as they don’t seem to heat public spaces around here.  The room itself is warm enough, though.

Internet access for the hotel is only in the lobby, and very slow, so after a few moments playing with that, I decided to check into the school.  It is only a short ten minute walk, according to the locals.  Somebody needs to talk to them about the definition of a short walk.  It's cold here in Manchester, with about an inch of snow.  Apparently, the city never bothers with snow plows or shovels, as it is also very slick.  I’ve been walking very carefully, not wanting to start my stay with a broken leg.

It was an interesting walk, though.  There are many restaurants, sari shops, and jewelry shops along the way, all specializing in near East fashions, food and clientele.  I don’t think I even heard English, Queen’s or otherwise, for most of the distance. 

About twenty minutes later I found the student services center.  I spoke with a curly-haired student worker who found out I wasn't officially registered at the university, though I was in the system.  He sent me to another office in a different building where they agreed that I wasn't registered, and that I couldn't until January.  Then I went to a third office in a third building to meet the woman everyone else called to straighten out the confusion.  She was just leaving, so I merely introduced myself.

My supervisor was not in her office, and it was 4:00 pm local.  I caught a taxi to the Deansgate branch of the John Ryland library, where Dr. Gale Owen-Crocker (my dissertation supervisor - hereafter called Gale) invited me to see a performance of medieval chorales followed by dinner.  There was a small cafe there, as seems to be quite common here, and I hadn't eaten since 10 ish, so I ordered a hot chocolate and flapjack.  Apparently, they don't add sugar to the chocolate.  A flapjack is a long, dense cookie/cake like object.  Trying to stay awake, connect to the internet, and warm up, I ate the flapjack, eventually discovering the sugar for the chocolate at the bottom of the porcelain cup.  

Around 5:00, I asked the desk attendant for the library where the performance was to be held.  He was looking for the information when Gale walked in.  There was a committee meeting for the Manchester Medieval Society before the singers came.  Only three other members of the committee showed up, so I was drafted.  We sat in an alcove of the Reading room on beautiful, ornate wooden chairs.  The whole building, I was informed, was designed to look like a gothic cathedral made of wood instead of stone by a grieving widow for her husband in the 19th century.  As soon as I get settled, I will try to post pictures...

The acoustics were amazing, and the concert was lovely.  Six singers from the university choirs, four men, two women wove their voices together, experimenting with the echo of the hall.  It was glorious.  They finished with the Coventry Carol, not strictly medieval, but a wonderful piece.  It was also cold.  They don't heat the library during the evening hours.

Afterward, several of us went to the Italian restaurant across the street, where the Medieval Society treated the singers to dinner.  Because there were fourteen of us, the restaurant used the special menu for large groups.  Basically we were given plates and brought out a selection of eight appetizers followed by eight main courses.  Everybody got to try a bit of everything.  I discovered I don't care for calamari much.  It's a rubbery type chewy without flavor.  The men singers all sat around me, which was quite fun, and we discussed everything from James Bond to Top Gear (a British tv program Chet likes to watch - they were tickled I knew anything about it) to a game they made up on the spot where someone mentioned the first name of a composer and the rest of the group had to guess the last name.  I held my own.  Not bad for having been up for two days.

A recent PhD graduate, Dr. Hannah Priest, took me through town to catch a cab at the Town Hall.  We walked through a specially set up Christmas market, designed to look like Swiss cottages.  I really enjoyed the architecture and the Christmas lights (a large Santa of lights sat on top of the entrance to the Hall).  I got home and took a long, hot shower, then collapsed into bed at 11:00, roughly 47 hours after I first woke up, if my calculations are correct.  A very long day to say the least.