April May (June?)

21 May is a scary date. Not as scary, of course, as 22 May (two weeks!), 1 June (June!) or 5 June (In British phone-speak: LATERZ, ENGLAND). Ah. Terror and nostalgia aside, there is much fun to report.

Easter vacation ended on 26 April, which meant absolutely nothing except that halls were no longer lonely. Commenting incessantly on the weather is an annoying British trait, but I'll do it anyway: it's gorgeous and warm and basically I wish my life could be a never-ending English summer. Although they reside in what is quite possibly the dreariest country in the world (and perhaps because of it), the Brits know how to enjoy their fucking sunshine. Sitting outside is an activity here, and it's glorious.

Revision is overrated. I spent an entire week of my life watching HBO's 'The Pacific' because apparently I'm a War Studies student, and I still can't answer an essay question about weapons in the 1940s. This is either because I hate weapons from the 1940s, or because TV programs should stop exclusively casting sexy men. How am I supposed to pay attention to flamethrowers if people keep taking their shirts off and staring pensively into the palm tree-filled abyss? Fuck me, it's distracting.

Village pizza is not overrated. Neither, accordingly, is the size of my waistline. Yikes. Let's just say that there is a week of my life that I can't seem to remember, but I do know that the pizza guy has my order memorized. April, you kill me.

We had an election! Nobody won, but the London Eye was rainbow for a night and everyone loves an excuse to drink to seats in Parliament. It's comical how similar the parties are here, but also reassuring that so little of their politics revolves around moral issues (or, in the USA, the vomit-inducing 'family values'). That's not to say that Britain is absent of debate about such things (if you want a scare, google David Cameron's appointment of everyone's favorite bigot, Theresa May, as equality minister), but people tend to vote on the drier issues. America, I've always judged you for this, but now you just look uneducated, simple and ridiculously easy to manipulate.

I got a new camera, which means that I've finally resumed one of my favorite activities: wandering aimlessly and taking photos of things that are only funny to me.

And now for a list of reasons why reintegration to the States will be difficult and annoying.

1) Cider. Why on Earth don't we have hard cider on tap? On the eighth day, God invented Strongbow.
2) Brit-speak. You alright, mate? I was on the lash last night, and I pulled a super fit bird. What are you on about? I'm headed down the shop for a curry. I'm in mine. Are you in halls? I can't be bothered. Cheers. In a bit. Etc.
3) 4od. British TV is amazing, and also the only thing I've watched online for months. Going back to Gossip Girl, Hulu and incessant reruns of Law & Order blows.
4) Chavs. I won't know what to call trashy people, and American ones are heavier on the scary and lighter on the comedic value.
5) Digestives. Beans at breakfast. Sainsburys Basics. Double-strength juice. Pasties. Vending machines full of snacks I've never heard of. Prawn cocktail crisps. Chips with everything. Chicken everywhere. High quality McDonalds. Sweet corn at Subway. Sweet corn on everything. CADBURY. Innocent smoothies. Double vodka Red Bull. Pub food. Something I won't miss: being fat.

This list will grow.

xxx