As I write this post, it is now 4 a.m. Yes, “A.M.” as in the morning. And that’s not even the most amazing part. The kicker is that I am wide awake and feel absolutely wonderful.
The plan behind all this was to wake up at 4 am, put some polishing touches on my paper (due this afternoon) before leaving at 5:45 to meet the rest of the crew at the boathouse. As Providence would have it, rowing practice was cancelled so I ended up awake and fully clothed with several gallons of caffeine already flowing through my veins and more than ample time to waste. Oh, happy day!
My point is this: while living in what’s affectionately known as the “Oxford Bubble,” I feel like I’m operating within a strange time warp. I’m not just referring to the time change, for it’s much more than that. It’s this unexplainable chronological phenomenon that that mysteriously makes the days drag on indefinitely yet fly by at the same time. There are moments when it seems like there is no time at all: I’ll spend an hour just walking, from the house to the college to the library and then another hour back. We’ll sit at dinner and chat, or sit in a pub and angd engross ourselves in a pint and a semi-intellectual debate and then before we know it, BAM. 4 hours have passed.
Some days I’ll accomplish more than I thought I could accomplish in a week back home…I’ll read an entire book in an afternoon. Other days, I’ll putter around the house and accomplish next to nothing. I don’t have any explanation for it other than attributing it to some fortuitous wrinkle in the Oxford space-time continuum. Yes, that must be it.
Also, to further confuse matters, there is relatively little daylight here in the winter. Right now, it doesn’t get light until about 8:30-9 am and then it’s dark again by 4 pm. And, to be honest, when daylight does grace England with its presence, it’s inevitably obscured by cloud cover. It’s very easy to feel like you’re in the twilight zone when it always looks like twilight.