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Jun. 5th, 2006 11:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
x_losMy favorite uncle, Will, and I have talked and it looks like I may be reading history second semester next year at one of the following colleges:
York
Kings
Queen Mary
Essex
Edinborough
Glasgow
I didn't know Bill had been keeping abrest of how I'd been doing in school. Thanks ever so, grandma. I really do love it when all my relatives can snark at my German performance, that's just excellent. Edinborough and Queen Mary are somewhat stricter on the GPA, requiring a 3.3 minimum, but Will thinks perhaps it might satisfy them if my major GPA is good, even if the overall is somewhat dodgy. Did you know ALL your federal student aid by law transfered to English universities? And with state subsidised education, it's not all that expensive. I'm sort of trying to sway anyone who might be interested, I'd adore some company in the land of macks and brellys. I promise you a helping of my uncle's thoroughly good pasta putanesca and my own undying lubb.
Not to belabour the obvious, but I love England. Not just my family over there, though Bill and I had an excellent "Why does Angel Claire suck so hard?" session and my fashion design cousin Emily is awesome and, via her brother, I have a very cute new little second cousin who is like one small ball of person. Not even because they're the only nation on the planet that plys me with properly made tea with milk, sugar and lemon almost without me having to ask for some. And though I do love the British Museum and the comic book store outside (I LOVE YOU WOAH! WOAH! COMICS!), its not that either.
There's some kind of gestault effect that just leaves me feeling very deliberate, measured and pleased with myself and the people around me. I like the air, and how well I sleep there, how few allergies I have, the way the tube works, the way Victoria Station looks. I like listening to bitching about what the mayor's doing (mostly my uncle's-- "He like newts." "Newts?" "Yes, and if that isn't a sign of insanity." The new Eye on London is a lot like the bubble from The Prisoner, we agree). Driving to Stansted airport the fog rose up off the Essex marshes, and it was opaquely beautiful, twining around the motorway until you understood the Sh. plays where people end up lost and wandering here. Impossible to see ten feet in front of you, but incomparably lovely when the motorway crests a hill and you can look down and see it happening. England has excellent art and architecture, but it couples these with a firmer foundation of natural loveliness than any country I have been to.
I am REALLY looking forward to history in a university that knows when the fucking Battle of Bosworth was.
York
Kings
Queen Mary
Essex
Edinborough
Glasgow
I didn't know Bill had been keeping abrest of how I'd been doing in school. Thanks ever so, grandma. I really do love it when all my relatives can snark at my German performance, that's just excellent. Edinborough and Queen Mary are somewhat stricter on the GPA, requiring a 3.3 minimum, but Will thinks perhaps it might satisfy them if my major GPA is good, even if the overall is somewhat dodgy. Did you know ALL your federal student aid by law transfered to English universities? And with state subsidised education, it's not all that expensive. I'm sort of trying to sway anyone who might be interested, I'd adore some company in the land of macks and brellys. I promise you a helping of my uncle's thoroughly good pasta putanesca and my own undying lubb.
Not to belabour the obvious, but I love England. Not just my family over there, though Bill and I had an excellent "Why does Angel Claire suck so hard?" session and my fashion design cousin Emily is awesome and, via her brother, I have a very cute new little second cousin who is like one small ball of person. Not even because they're the only nation on the planet that plys me with properly made tea with milk, sugar and lemon almost without me having to ask for some. And though I do love the British Museum and the comic book store outside (I LOVE YOU WOAH! WOAH! COMICS!), its not that either.
There's some kind of gestault effect that just leaves me feeling very deliberate, measured and pleased with myself and the people around me. I like the air, and how well I sleep there, how few allergies I have, the way the tube works, the way Victoria Station looks. I like listening to bitching about what the mayor's doing (mostly my uncle's-- "He like newts." "Newts?" "Yes, and if that isn't a sign of insanity." The new Eye on London is a lot like the bubble from The Prisoner, we agree). Driving to Stansted airport the fog rose up off the Essex marshes, and it was opaquely beautiful, twining around the motorway until you understood the Sh. plays where people end up lost and wandering here. Impossible to see ten feet in front of you, but incomparably lovely when the motorway crests a hill and you can look down and see it happening. England has excellent art and architecture, but it couples these with a firmer foundation of natural loveliness than any country I have been to.
I am REALLY looking forward to history in a university that knows when the fucking Battle of Bosworth was.
