Taking the Bull by the Horns

I find myself in the smoking area outside the local pub, accompanying Nicole as she sneaks out of the pub quiz for a quick half-time cigarette. Outside are two eccentric village ladies, about the age of my mother, one with a thick cockney accent, the other with a thick Norfolk accent. A young man comes to join us and the conversation turns to Shambo

The man had been listening to the saga unfold on Radio 4, as the officials who had been sent to destroy the bull were first turned away for having the incorrect paperwork and then kept waiting outside while the longest prayers in the history of religion were being recited in the name of delaying tactics.

"But really, is there a danger of bovine TB actually infecting a human?" one of the old ladies asked.

"Well", said the young man (a farmer, I suspect), "I'm going to have to be crude. But the only way a human can be infected is by drinking an infected cow's milk. And as this is a bull...."
"Ah", Nicole and I nodded, getting his point and assuming the slight pause was so as not to have to put the argument into words inappropriate for the occasion and present company.

".... the only way you could catch it, is if you were to give the bull a blow job!!", he finished, rather triumphantly.

A moment's shocked pause. Then the two older ladies screech with laughter.

"Barbara doesn't know what that means!!!" says Norfolk Lady, pointing at her friend and nearly peeing herself laughing.

"Oh yes I do", said Barbara very indignantly, "I watch Sex in the City I'll have you know".

And there you have it. A typical evening in our new life in a tiny village in Norfolk. The worrying thing is that there is little difference in the level of smuttiness in conversations wherever we go and whatever the social group - Cambridge, Norfolk, young, old, farmer, student, OAP - it all boils down to blow job jokes sooner or later!

Hurrah for Broadband - hurrah!

Well, it has been quite a while, hasn't it? The main event that has happened since I became bereft of a fast internet connection was our graduation. There are a million photos on Facebook if you fancy having a look at them. It was a fantastic day, far better than anything I had expected. We were given drinks and lunch at college, then walked into town (in the middle of the road! with all that traffic, and all those tourists taking our photos!) until we arrived at the Senate House, where we had our degree ceremony. It was all very Cambridge, and it made me very emotional - for the first time since I arrived 3 years ago I felt like I had really achieved something special. Standing in the Senate House I was reminded that this had been my dream for all those years beforehand, and a dream that I never thought I would get to fulfil. And yet there I was, kneeling in my gown listening to incomprehensible Latin being spoken by someone who looked like he was dressed up as Santa Clause, presumably telling me I was becoming a graduate!

I want to write about the friends I've made over the past three years, the fact that we are scattering all over the globe and how we'll be friends for ever and ever, but I'm vomit-inducingly emotional about the whole thing at the moment, so I'll end here!

[I think all the jam-making may be displacement activity: if I make enough mixed fruit jam and redcurrant jelly I can ignore the fact that I'm moving to the other side of the world while my wife is either moving to York or going travelling and Dr A is moving to Antarctica. Does anybody have any spare gooseberries or blackcurrants they don't need??]

I wanna talk about me-e-e-eee!

... But I can't because I'm still on a slow dial-up connection whilst stranded in Norfolk. Things are getting desperate - with no broadband and no TV, and tiring of endless jam-making, I have now moved on to Bigger and Better Things. I have spent the evening making rosemary and redcurrant jelly. It's tricky. But not tricky enough to put off THIS 1950s housewife. Oh no, sireee. I now have 12 jars of the stuff.

Does anyone eat jam or jelly? Because I don't. And I don't know who is going to eat all the stuff I am currently making. I estimate I've made about 40 jars of jam and jelly so far. Cupboards are becoming full. Supplies of recycled jam jars are running short. And shopping lists are starting to consist mainly of sugar supplies. Believe me, there's a lot of sugar in jam. And jelly.

In other news, James (from now own to be referred to as "The Doctor") and I graduated on Saturday. Amusing anecdotes and pictures to follow. It was wonderful, truly wonderful. We wore long hooded robes, pulled the Praelectors' fingers, and pretended to understand Latin whilst praying to Santa Clause. All will become clear when I explain in more detail on the blessed day when broadband arrives. Until then, I shall attempt to download a photo. If it appears here, appreciate it - it will have taken a good 20 minutes to dowload! If it fails to appear, pray pity me. And join me in longing for the day when we are blessed by the deity of broadband...

Stranded in Deepest Darkest Norfolk

Apologies for the radio silence. Since last posting I have been on holiday to Switzerland, moved out of college and am in the process of moving into our temporary home in Norfolk. I have also learned how to make jam.

I'm on a slow dial-up internet connection which makes blogging very difficult (and slow) indeed. We should have broadband installed next week, when I plan to wow you all with lots of photos, up-dates and jam recipes!

Solidarity, sisters (and brothers)!