Hello from across the pond -- which I am informed one does not say, by the way.

I made it safely to Durham, have sloughed off the jet lag and am installed in rather cramped but adequate quarters near St. Acca. I have a bed-sitter in an old house owned by the college. I have a private toilet but there is a shared room for bathing. 

There is even, I am relieved to say, WiFi, the house being used mostly by visiting professors like myself. With any luck, the Kenyan who is using the studio flat will leave at the end of the week and I can get bumped up to the luxury of my own tiny kitchen and a shower. Until then, meals are in the common dining room and the less said about that, the better. It is decidedly not dining at Downton Abbey. I am taking Travis at his word and avoiding foods with improbable names.

Speaking of which, I am struggling a bit with accents. I didn’t realize how dependent I am for closed captioning for the BBC imports we watch. And everyone snickers at everything I say. I am sure I will adjust.

It looks like my friend has the course all mapped out and all I have to do is expound on the videos we did, meet with students and grade papers. It should leave some time to wander around a bit and enjoy the environs.  If I heard correctly, there is a charming village nearby with the unlikely name of St. Paul in Aspic. I must have that wrong, but I was afraid to ask the spelling. Higgins and Pickering would have a field day here.