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I now have a tutor for Harmony/Theory class, and she helped me study for the mid-term that I wrote today. In fact, she lent me her copy of last year's mid-term so I could practice by writing it.

So I sat down to write the exam and realized... that it was exactly the same as the one I'd studied. I haven't cheated, strictly speaking, but it still felt dirty somehow. I rarely make it to that class because it's now my first class each day, so I'm afraid that the professor will say to himself, "This student is in class 20% of the time. She got every answer right. Something's fishy."

* * *

I remain excrutiatingly undecided about whether I want to return to this school next year. To keep my options open, I'm in the process of applying/auditioning for three schools in Ontario. I really need to be somewhere I can get regular medical attention, especially physiotherapy. My back is sore almost all the time now from practising 4-5 days a week. (Can't do anything more--hurts too much.)

* * *

My plane departs for Heathrow tomorrow! Later today, that is. I'm incredibly excited; this is only my second time on the other side of the Atlantic, the first since a choir trip to Austria in 2000. May I just say: wheee!

Camera stuff

And I'm sucked further into the vortex of camera obsession...

I now have my dad's flash, to go with my grandmother's Olympus OM-1 and 50mm, telephoto, and wide-angle lens. This adds a whole other dimension. The only problem is that the Olympus, in an effort to be ultra-compact, was manufactured with a removable hot shoe which has now been lost. Dad sent a bulky bracket-type deal which attaches the flash to the camera but it's big and cumbersome, not to mention intimidating to any potential photo subjects. ("Aaah! It looks like a newspaper photographer!") I can't find a replacement anywhere; in fact, nobody in town has any idea what I mean by "hot shoe".

Last weekend, I took a whole roll of pictures using the flash just to make sure I wasn't doing anything wrong. Got the photos back today and they look fine. It sure beats using a slow shutter speed and praying that the pictures don't turn out too blurry. There's one photo in particular that I'm most pleased with: a housemate frozen in mid-jump, brandishing a wooden sword.

(It's about time I gave my housemates names, eh? I'll call this one Herbert.)

Back-dated England entry #1: Saturday

(Nothing particularly deep here, but if I don't start somewhere, I'll never get them done.)

I sat next to a very pleasant gentleman on the airplane ride over the Atlantic to Heathrow. ( Read more... )

Never got his name; I never seem to with people on planes. We can have the most friendly conversations, to the point where I feel I've really learnt something about the person or even taken a photograph of their child, but we never exchange names. Perhaps it's an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that we'll never meet again.

I arrived at Heathrow groggy but grateful for the sleep I had gotten and made my bleary way through the airport, noting to myself that I really should take photos on the way back (which I didn't do). Luckily for me, soubrette was waiting for me in my direct line of vision; it might have taken me at least a minute to find her otherwise. We ate breakfast at Little Chef (both having, ironically, the "American Breakfast"), where I promptly spilled my tea and had to return to the counter for forgotten items at least three times. A mad dash to and from the lavatory later, I had joined soubrette on the coach to Cambridge.

On my first day in Cambridge, I ate Pret sandwiches on Jesus Green with soubrette and womble2 while feeling the coldest I think I felt the entire time. Not realizing how penetrating a damp cold can be nor how quickly the temperature could change, and being the I'm-used-to-20-below Canadian, I had not anticipated needing a sweater underneath my jacket; I knew better all the days after that.

I also had the pleasure of meeting plotinus, was carted along to Jordan's music shop, sight-read some music very badly at a bus stop, and ate the first of several lovely home cooked dinners back at "home". (It never fails to astonish me when people cook from scratch. It's just not something we do very often in my family.) I also learned that one says, "cheers," instead of "thanks," though I wasn't yet comfortable using it myself.

(See soubrette's entry about same day.)

I'm in Cambridge!

It was a frantic last-minute struggle to get packed and attempt to finish up essential business in Sackville, the ride to the airport was not exactly pleasant, and I had to wait nearly five hours before the plane boarded. But I'm here now. My stomach has finally started to calm down.

My first day was spent getting to Cambridge from Heathrow airport, meeting various people (mostly from soubrette's choir), and getting generally acquainted with Cambridge and its own particular brand of cold, wet weather. I'm feeling the effects of jet lag, but it's not as bad as I thought it would be.