tea

Some things, and some other things

Ah, only in a British university with a significant population of Americans abroad would one make extensive mealtime conversation about a certain silvery-white metal, which is otherwise quite commonplace and unremarkable.

Speaking of which, I can handle car park, chips, crisps, sweets, lorries (how often do they come up in conversation?), jumpers, inverted commas, et cetera, et cetera. I have been acclimated to these things at great length. No, what really gets me is referring to the things which I have come here to take as "modules". Perfectly bizarre.

I quite like the modules I'm taking, though: The Middle Ages and the Movies, and The Vikings: Invasion, Settlement and Conversion, c. 750-1050 (otherwise known as: My ancestors raped and pillaged your ancestors! Unless you're also Scandinavian, or you're from quite far away [the Vikings got around, you know]). Love this stuff.

The debate society is taking up the motion This House Believes That Harry Potter is a Danger to our Children on Wednesday, which should be no end amusing, and not just because of the free sherry.

I am a cool trendsetting person, as practically everyone has put their room number in the title of their shared iTunes music library. Unfortunately, all of them listen to terrible, terrible music.
  • Current Mood: impressed impressed
  • Current Music: Fit the Twelfth - HHGTTG BBC Radio - Douglas Adams
What? Why is Harry Potter only a Danger to Our Children on Wednesdays? What about Fridays? Or Hogsmeade weekends?
:P
A Hypothetical Timeline:
Sunday: Our children acquire Harry Potter books and begin reading them.

Monday: Our children finish the Harry Potter books. (They're fast readers. They got it from their parents.) They begin playing Harry Potter, using their bathrobes as robes, their stuffed animals as owls, sticks from the backyard as wands, and condiments from the kitchen as potions ingredients. They all fight over who gets to use the broom as a broomstick and who gets stuck with the mop. The frisbee as the snitch lasts approximately thirty seconds before it winds up on the neighbors' roof.

Tuesday: Our children discover the Real Majik™ which religious fundies solemnly assure us is encoded in the Harry Potter books, because otherwise, real witches would be complaining about them. They master the Killing Curse, create the Philosopher's Stone, and summon demons (who, upon showing up, promptly begin complaining that they weren't even supposed to be here today, because they aren't even in Harry Potter). Armed with the forces of darkness, they begin securing unto themselves important things, like a lifetime supply of chocolate and a new Playstation.

Wednesday: Our children have killed all the adults in the world when the homework and green leafy vegetables disputes went sour and sold their souls to the devil, although owing to the fact that they have the ability to extend their lives indefinitely with the Philosopher's Stone, Satan is bitching that he's not going to be able to collect until the heat death of the sun. Anarchy and poor diets reign.

Won't somebody please think of the children and ban Harry Potter today?
Aww, I miss you too, love.

If you were here, we would definitely take over Scotland together. Muah!