Norfolk Terrace, UEA, Norwich, Day 143. City
Centre and Stay-In Skype Day
We had what should be called ‘the Pathetic
Picnic’ this morning. Stef, Helen, Dave, Liam, Kurt, Me, and another guy whose
name I’m blanking on. Good bloke, though. Dave brought out a loaf of bread.
That was our shared sustenance (Stef used up the last of the peanut butter…and
so the rest of us just ate the bread…plain), while a few of us drank pineapple
juice. I parted from the group and headed just the extra bit it takes to get
into the city centre, through Upper St. Giles Street and found myself at a
guitar store. Yesterday, I leaned the guitar against my desk and snap! The high
E string exploded in its tension and it was no longer stringed. I bought a new
E string today, then a sandwich and mince meat, and sat looking over the city
centre from the benches near the City Hall steps.
I
have to be honest. I really miss home. The activity day in and day out is
pleasant in its simplicity, its absence of stress and deadlines, but there is
also a greater drive to be back after being gone for longer than I’ve ever been
gone. 143 days. On the other hand, it’s hard to believe I will be here…for only
four more nights, including this one. I’m at the point where I’m ready to go
home, but also I know that I will really miss Norwich, UEA, and the people at
UEA.
I
got a chance to make this a Sunday Skype day as well. I skyped Katya on the
spur of the moment, well spur of a 15-minute moment, and we got in quality
time. I also saw my parents and my brother too. On skype. In the months I’ve
been gone (but not because of it), my brother picked up poi, a fun activity
that can be described as…okay, using Wikipedia: ‘as a performance art, poi involves
swinging tethered weights through a variety of rhythmical and geometric
patterns’. I’m excited to see what it’s like. We both heard about it one 4th
of July in a small former mining town in Trinity County.
I
ended the day with episode after episode of How
I Met Your Mother: Season 7. So.
Good.
No comments:
Post a Comment