I’m Missing the Apocalypse

Dear Oklahoma,
Way to be metal with the earthquake during the tornado warning during the thunderstorm. “Ooh, the St. Andrews Cathedral graveyard is all foggy and spooky” just doesn’t feel as cool now.

Dear Becca,
I said I wanted to see the first Final Destination. I did not say to reenact it, though I appreciate your dedication. Seriously, though, it sounds like that flight was a personally tailored hell for you – I hope the next one is absolutely dull.

Dear…oh dear.
Dear readers, I wish I had Brad Neely to narrate this for you, as it would add an element of humor that I simply cannot accomplish through a textual medium.
Some happenings to report. Guy Fawkes Day in the UK consists of more than listening to people quote V for Vendetta, which was fun. Tony and I went to the beach to light off fireworks. There was a gaggle of undergrads around a bonfire, and it was quite cold there by the North Sea (go figure), so I wandered over and invited Tony and myself to hang out around there. This worked out well, because most of them had forgotten lighters, though they had remembered their own fireworks, and we had a surplus. At some point, I ended up with a delicious cookie one of the nice people was passing out. This was welcome, as my bottle of wine seemed to grow empty fairly quickly once I noticed I was cold.

Aiming fireworks (of the moderately big and loud “ooh, ahh” variety) in such a way that they go off right above the water creates a lovely effect, what with the reflection and all.

Tony played with a roman candle, and members of the bonfire crowd yelled “expelliarmus!” Nerdy? Of course. Infinitely more fun to hear in a legitimate British and Scottish (we had both) accent? Hell yes.

No classes this week, as it is reading week for the undergrads, who have finals. I wish I knew what any of my papers were to be about so I could pretend I was going to work on them. I think we plan to go to Edinburgh tomorrow, which will be nice. I have not gotten to explore outside of St. Andrews yet.

It’s getting cold – legitimately cold, not “I’m whiny and 50 degrees doesn’t feel warm with a wind” cold. This would get me down were it not for the fact that I cannot walk for 10 minutes without stumbling into old city ruins, castle-looking things, cobblestone streets, and a generally awesome atmosphere.
Not that I’m saying “suck it, Oklahoma,” but..well…you enjoy your little earthquakes. It’s sad, really – such a cry for attention.

Oh, and one more thing: the street musicians around here are badasses. I’ve not heard the faint strains of a guitar once, but I think I’ll take the talented accordion player, the flautist, a’ phiob mhòr, and such.

I have postcards, and a couple of letters written, but I really need to go find some stamps and envelopes. This ‘post office’ place I’ve heard so much about could probably help me.

If anyone besides Becca and Eli read this (although they are certainly included), and would like a postcard or a letter, send your address to sugarmagnoliasandscotch@gmail.com, and I will really try to remember to attempt to actually get around to it – I promise.