chilling and cheese

"The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese."
(G.K. Chesterton)

As the saying goes, I've been chilling in the Rare Books Room, which is indeed rather chilled, presumably in order to protect the books or to prevent readers from falling asleep. It's a really odd experience to be drifting off in the middle of reading. Words and ideas float in front of you and make strange patterns and new associations.It could be argued that this is a conducive state for study, in that creative ideas often emerge in a 'twilight zone' (or Altered State of Consciousness (ASC) as the psychologists would have it).

(Speaking of which, I saw a Ridley Hall student (or so I deduced from him having a pile of books from Ridley's library in front of him), with his head resting on the desk in front of him. The books he had were on prayer, so I wasn't sure if he was sleeping or praying, or a combination of the two.)

"How can you be expected to govern a country that has 246 kinds of cheese?"
(Charles de Gaulle)

On Wednesday, we had a post-seminar tea-drinking session in the tea room (which is a good place to drink tea). It was nice to get to know some of the Renaissance boys and girls, though according to Wikipedia's tea article, "English use of tea dates from about 1650", which is towards the end of our period. I'm not sure if there was a particularly English beverage prior to this (and yes, I am aware that tea is not English in origin).

"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
(Henry James, The Portrait of a Lady)

This evening I went to a party held in honour of Ruth's sister Abbie visiting Cambridge (all the way from Loughborough). This was good fun with some Emma crowd and others. Watching Chinese music videos added some 'poignancy' to the occasion, though Wilfred the talking sheep was confined to a corner for misbehaviour. This time around my jasmine tea seemed much more alive, with the bud opening up immediately, extending its tentacles, and then submerging itself in the water, appearing to blow bubbles up to the top of the cup before starting to shed its leaves.

"A cheese may disappoint. It may be dull, it may be naive, it may be oversophisticated. Yet it remains, cheese, milk's leap toward immortality."
(Clifton Fadiman)

tea, circuses and rare books

On Friday I had fun in the Rare Books room of the UL, looking at original editions of The Faerie Queene for my textual studies class. It's not too many places where you can set as homework looking at 16th century copies of texts. One of the copies we examined had an exciting variety of annotation in it, some of which seems to give exact dates identifying events paralleled in the poem. The UL turns out to be quite a sociable place - I saw two friends from church working in the Rare Books room and found out later that there were two more on the premises.

On Friday night we went to the Chinese State Circus with a Harry's posse, which was great. Highlights included the lion dance, people jumping backwards through rotating hoops elevated above the ground and someone upside down peddling a unicycle along a tightrope without falling off. Joseph has some pictures, and he did a great job of haggling for discounted tickets for us. (Does anyone else find it slightly ironic that the Chinese State Circus is promoted by the European Entertainment Corporation?)

Having spent Sunday afternoon eating cake and drinking tea chez Ruth, on Sunday evening after church I went to eat cake and drink tea with my college big sibling + housemates + their little siblings. In the afternoon I had Chinese jasmine tea all the way from China, which involved placing a bud in hot water which gradually opened out until it resembled one of those aquatic life forms with multiple swaying limbs. In the evening I had English and African tea, in the company of Ukrainian, American, German, French and British Christ's postgrads. I was also locked out of my flat for most of Sunday, having realised the moment I shut the door on the way to church that I didn't have my keys in my pocket. Someone did suggest to me sleeping in the library.

I am a mole and I live in a hole ...

... well, not exactly, but I live in a basement flat in Jesus Lane. Perhaps college is trying to hide me underground so I don't cause trouble. The flat, after some rearrangement of furniture, actually looks quite nice, and I had seven people round to eat last Sunday. (Seven is the biblical number of perfection - could this be significant?) I have also just got connected to the college network. It took me a while to do this, my problem being that I was trying to connect with a modem cable rather than an ethernet cable. Hence I may be posting here more regularly.

Since my last significant post I've been involved with the International Student Welcome (welcoming international students to Cambridge). This involves sitting out at the bus station and train station in the cold and greeting people, and also going to visit people. This was great fun, and on one given evening I met and conversed with a Bolivian woman who had missed her bus and wanted to know if her ticket was still valid, an official from the Italian consulate and a 95-year old professor waiting for a bus from Luton who came up to Cambridge as an undergraduate in 1929 and has been here ever since.

The other thing I've been busy with is starting my MPhil course. I've just finished week 1 (Cambridge terms beginning on a Thursday and ending on a Wednesday). I actually only have a three day week, all my seminars being on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, so I guess I can have a four day weekend :-) Yesterday I was 20 minutes late to my textual studies seminar, since I got lost in the labyrinth of the UL. Since I seem to be in the mood for fanciful typology, I propose that this is an allegory for the perplexities of scholarship, where mazes of speculation seem often to impede the possibility of access to the text. Anyway, on that note, I'll leave you with a quote from Francis Bacon (the writer (1561-1626) rather than the painter (1909-1992), though the latter is a collateral descendant of the former (meaning he's related but not by a direct line of descent)):

"Reading maketh a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man."

'Coffee as a Means of Grace'

I intend to blog about my life or assorted highlights thereof before too long. Meanwhile, I felt a compulsion to link to this fine piece of theological argumentation:

'Coffee as a Means of Grace' by Michael J. Svigel.