Considering it doesn't have much to boast about, it was rather a surprise to learn that Birmingham actually had a spring season. After having lived here almost 2 years, I can testify to the fact that there is a period of 2 months that carefully and quite hopefully gets demarcated as such.
Officially fired off by spring break week, and pursued relentlessly by spring fest, blast, outing and thingummybob, its a wonder there's actually any time for summer at all. I actually feel sorry for summer, which has to creep in almost shamelessly and endure the curses of the local inhabitants since this state is going through what was supposed to be a passing drought.
That was 4 years ago and it doesn't look like the drought is planning to 'pass' by any time soon.
A typical spring week will begin with bright sunshine, constant 22 degree weather and a refreshing breeze on Monday. This generally cheers up any and everyone suffering from the Monday blues. All and sundry bring out their most ragged t-shirts and shorts, suitably accompanied by sandals and shades / glares. On Tuesday, everyone marches out of the door smartly in same attire and just as smartly marches right back in. The sky is speckled with grey clouds and the wind, refreshing yesterday, effortlessly slices though cloth, skin, tendon and other paraphernalia. The whole effect is accentuated by the temperature which is a bird-song silencing -2 degrees. Wednesday, it rains. Thursday, the sun peeps out hopefully but is horrified by the blasphemies it is subjected to, considering the oppressive humidity cloaking everything. On Friday, just as people are badmouthing the 'spring', the weather resembles the one on Monday.
It seems that spring is also the time heterosexuality (publicly) comes into fashion, especially on campus. Faceless masses, huddled in the labs and classrooms all winter suddenly discover that not only are there other students under those heavy jackets, these students are also of the opposite sex and attractive, to say the least. Ergo, any patch of land with even a hint of grass on it will now find itself sprawled upon by bodies coochy-cooing away. Joggers and walkers find that their daily route has turned into an obstacle course as they not only have to watch out for the lounging multitude, but also for the starry-eyed, arm-in-arm couples barrelling their way through without a care in the world.
As if this wasn't enough, people who have found the library perfectly adequate for reading, studying and whatanot, now insist on reading (or rather squinting at) their books and holding pointless 'study' sessions in the middle of this public circus. To each his own and all that, but really...
This festival atmosphere is not helping moi. Yes, there's the cricket on the weekends and the beer in the balcony. But, faced with all of the above, one admits to a slight hankering. It had to happen some time I suppose. I mean, its not exactly Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness' in here. Not always, anyway. Since I suspect I was on the assembly line on the day the heavenly father's consort pleaded a headache, I am the inspiration for Murphy and as a bonus, get accosted on the street with the usual "Aren't you that Rumpelstilskin bloke who...". Ergo, my looks and personality are not exactly bringing in the ladies.
So, I'm brooding about fate, justice, lady luck and all that when I discover the result of some calculations I was doing on the side. Apparently, the Cambodia trip is running a wee bit over budget. Just a tad. Enough for a bead of perspiration to magically appear on the furrowed brow. As if this was not enough, I see a flyer for a talk to be held on campus.
Topic : Who am I? What am I doing? Why am I alive?
Song for the moment: The Tea Leaf Prophecy - Joni Mitchell
Officially fired off by spring break week, and pursued relentlessly by spring fest, blast, outing and thingummybob, its a wonder there's actually any time for summer at all. I actually feel sorry for summer, which has to creep in almost shamelessly and endure the curses of the local inhabitants since this state is going through what was supposed to be a passing drought.
That was 4 years ago and it doesn't look like the drought is planning to 'pass' by any time soon.
A typical spring week will begin with bright sunshine, constant 22 degree weather and a refreshing breeze on Monday. This generally cheers up any and everyone suffering from the Monday blues. All and sundry bring out their most ragged t-shirts and shorts, suitably accompanied by sandals and shades / glares. On Tuesday, everyone marches out of the door smartly in same attire and just as smartly marches right back in. The sky is speckled with grey clouds and the wind, refreshing yesterday, effortlessly slices though cloth, skin, tendon and other paraphernalia. The whole effect is accentuated by the temperature which is a bird-song silencing -2 degrees. Wednesday, it rains. Thursday, the sun peeps out hopefully but is horrified by the blasphemies it is subjected to, considering the oppressive humidity cloaking everything. On Friday, just as people are badmouthing the 'spring', the weather resembles the one on Monday.
It seems that spring is also the time heterosexuality (publicly) comes into fashion, especially on campus. Faceless masses, huddled in the labs and classrooms all winter suddenly discover that not only are there other students under those heavy jackets, these students are also of the opposite sex and attractive, to say the least. Ergo, any patch of land with even a hint of grass on it will now find itself sprawled upon by bodies coochy-cooing away. Joggers and walkers find that their daily route has turned into an obstacle course as they not only have to watch out for the lounging multitude, but also for the starry-eyed, arm-in-arm couples barrelling their way through without a care in the world.
As if this wasn't enough, people who have found the library perfectly adequate for reading, studying and whatanot, now insist on reading (or rather squinting at) their books and holding pointless 'study' sessions in the middle of this public circus. To each his own and all that, but really...
This festival atmosphere is not helping moi. Yes, there's the cricket on the weekends and the beer in the balcony. But, faced with all of the above, one admits to a slight hankering. It had to happen some time I suppose. I mean, its not exactly Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness' in here. Not always, anyway. Since I suspect I was on the assembly line on the day the heavenly father's consort pleaded a headache, I am the inspiration for Murphy and as a bonus, get accosted on the street with the usual "Aren't you that Rumpelstilskin bloke who...". Ergo, my looks and personality are not exactly bringing in the ladies.
So, I'm brooding about fate, justice, lady luck and all that when I discover the result of some calculations I was doing on the side. Apparently, the Cambodia trip is running a wee bit over budget. Just a tad. Enough for a bead of perspiration to magically appear on the furrowed brow. As if this was not enough, I see a flyer for a talk to be held on campus.
Topic : Who am I? What am I doing? Why am I alive?
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| Copyright: Bill Watterson |
Song for the moment: The Tea Leaf Prophecy - Joni Mitchell
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