Betsy Devine: Funny ha-ha and/or funny peculiar

Finalists — Strictly no flour!

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine

Sign of the times–said times being final exams for Oxford University students.

The Turf Pub welcomes said students, but not food fights or silly string.

But if they behave–“Well done and enjoy your day.”

Elsewhere in the Turf Pub, a sign claiming that it was their own terrace where Bill Clinton tried marijuana but didn’t inhale.

From Magdalen Bridge

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine

“In retrospect, it always seems to be summer…” says Jan Morris in her book Oxford,

“…and a fine day at that.

The meteorological records for these parts assure us that July 4, 1862 was ‘cool and rather wet’: but on that day Lewis Carroll first told the tale of Alice in Wonderland to four people in a Thames gig, rowing upstream for a picnic tea, and to the ends of their lives all four remembered the afternoon as a dream of cloudless English sunshine.

Such is the magic of Oxford that cameras as well as people may be fooled–as witness my sunny-sky photos from May, 2005 as well as all the ones I’ve been taking this time.

Hmmm–but through the glass of my actual window here, I see what looks very much like some gentle rain–and that’s ok, because I love my old raincoat.

But will I remember this rain a few months from now? Or will Oxford’s magic make even my camera forget?

The most important tree in the world?

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

Picturesque sycamore in Oxford between Queens and All Souls–said by town planner Thomas Sharp to be “one of the most important in the world.”

Why? Because “Without it, the scene would suffer greatly.” God bless the world’s enthusiasts, and Oxford’s lovely scenes.

God bless too all the trees that have not yet been called by anybody *the* most important.

Here’s our window, just to the left of "Maintien Le Droit"

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

“Maintien Le Droit”

When this college was built, “Maintain the right” meant “Work hard for justice.”

Or to give it a much more personal, modern translation, “Make trouble today for a better tomorrow.”

Oxford lovely building, part 2

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

What’s a “McJob”?

• “an unstimulating, low-paid job with few prospects, esp. one created by the expansion of the service -sector” (From the OED)
• “a low-paying job that requires little skill and provides little opportunity for advancement” (Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, 11th edition)
• “a low-paying, low-prestige job that requires few skills and offers very little chance of intracompany advancement” (Wikipedia)
• “a job that is stimulating, rewarding and offers genuine opportunities for career progression and skills that last a lifetime” ( McDonald’s)

The last of these definitions may soon be coming to a dictionary near you.

Anybody can edit Wikipedia–for example on April 5, 2007, one contributor blanked its entire McJobs entry, replacing it with “‘This is unfair and disgusting. Not everybody is unsatisfied with the service industry.”

Such claims crop up often in Wikipedia. Some article should stop describing what *is* (the way a term is actually used) and instead make some objector a happier person.

You or I can edit Wikipedia–giant corporations are more ambitious. McDonald’s has launched a massive PR campaign (with backing from other service-sector employers) to force printed dictionaries to redefine “McJobs.”

Will the OED become a McDictionary? If so, what next? Maybe “health food” defined as “Big Mac with a Diet Coke”?

Oxford old and new

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

“When a stranger wants to dig up a corpse…should you let him?” asks Marc Abrahams in this week’s Guardian column “Gravely Mistaken.”

Wired just interviewed Marc about his “IgNobel empire” (their words not mine.) Marc says there that England is one of the hotspots for improbable research so I’ll keep my eyes open.

And my camera charged.

In this photograph–early spring morning in Oxford.

Foreground–old graves run to clover, nettle, buttercup.

Across the road, modern shops and big red buses.

Ashmolean Museum at 6 a.m.

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

…under the cloudless 5 – 6 a.m. sky of beautiful Oxford.

Look closely at the Ashmolean Museum’s facade, and you can see the sharp shadow that each statue is casting.

More images of Oxford springtime on Flickr. One shot that isn’t there–it came out too blurry, to my regret–a patch of old moss on a very old wall with a jiggly silver line from end to end where a little snail had taken its own morning walk, even earlier than I did.

I realized this morning — Snails are bloggers!

snow.

Originally uploaded by hrútur73.

…did I mention that it’s May 21, 2007?

Then again, did I mention that I’m on a stopover in Iceland?

In 10 minutes I’ll board a different plane and fly to London where, I very much hope, it won’t be snowing.

Wish me luck!

Update–in Oxford. Lanscape green not white. Cloudy skies but the drizzle is rain not snow.

Big pink roses in gardens promise better weather–and smell so lovely.

Jet-lagged Betsy promises, see you later!

Radcliffe Camera with tea drinkers

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

Headed for Oxford, beautiful Oxford, tomorrow.

To see, among other glorious sights, the Radcliffe Camera, which Tolkien hated–it was his imaginary basis for the temple of Sauron.

I love JRR Tolkien–but would he like me? He didn’t like modern stuff–Saruman’s dirty orc-factories. He liked hobbit yeoman farmers with loyal servants.

My own French-Canadian great-grandparents poured out of picturesque farmwork into dirty factories. Freedom, they wanted–maybe just one small chance for a better life.

And just a tiny few of them got that chance–my father’s grandfather Hugo Dubuque became a lawyer, called in his obituary “a credit to his race.”

My French-Canadian mother’s aunt Leda Charpentier didn’t go back to school on the day she turned 12 because that was the magical age to start work in “the mill.” Leda’s luck turned later, when the mill owner rented her out to some friends as a temporary maid/helper.

And my own luck began when, many years later, Leda’s orphaned niece Clothilde struck the warm-hearted fancy of maiden ladies for whom Leda was now cook-housekeeper. In time they adopted my mother and sent her to Smith. I remember those lovable maiden ladies, including “ma tante” Leda, from my own early childhood.

But back to Oxford, back to JRR Tolkien. How foolish it would be for me to try to refute Tolkien because my family history doesn’t fit in with his fantasy. I love his fantasy–reading through one page of its watered-down quotes puts tears in my eyes.

Part of growing up is re-finding the missed connections where cranky cynicism cut us loose from stuff we once loved. I’ll be looking for Tolkien’s magic next week in Oxford–even as I (maybe) drink tea next to Sauron’s temple, which Tolkien, on so many levels, would have despised.
***

Frodo: I can’t do this, Sam.
Sam: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?
Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.

Little Golden Book _The Color Kittens_

Originally uploaded by betsythedevine.

The Color Kittens by Margaret Wise Brown was one of my favorites and long after I could read it to myself I loved my mother’s dramatic readings of it. Especially that “wonderful kittens” line.

And now it’s been reissued–and I got a new copy as a wonderful Mother’s Day present.

I photographed the “wonderful kittens” page lying on my now-blooming and also wonderful azaleas.