At the moment I am sitting in Rachel M's house in Belfast, attempting to use her housemate Estelle's computer.
The flight from Houston to London Heathrow left on time, at half four in the afternoon, Texas time. It was a packed flight. I sat between a husband and wife, and Nicole was three rows behind me, beside a mother and son on their way to South Africa. We handed a couple of notes to each other. The flight was nine hours and ten minutes long. I watched The Tale of Despereaux during tea (chicken and rice--I was so nervous that I could hardly bear to eat it), tried to sleep while listening to the FOTR soundtrack on my MP3 player, listened to 'Indelible Grace: Pilgrim Days' while reading Sophie's World, and watched the first half of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring while I ate breakfast.
We had a long slow descent to Heathrow. The weather in London was actually good, mostly sunny. Finding our way out was a little confusing, but we ended up in the right line for going through customs together. We found our bags no problem and began the trek to the Aer Lingus check-in. This involved asking directions of two polite British women, trundling down the main hallway of one terminal, descending into the bowels of the subway system underneath the airport, riding a crowded train, then getting off the train, taking the lift up, and walking 300 metres (though it seemed like a lot farther) through cold tiled passageways. We found the check-in eventually, checked in, went through security again, and traipsed through the airport to the gate. Five minutes after we arrived (in typical lackadaisical style) the flight began to board.
Touchdown in Belfast was smooth. It was chilly and raining only very slightly. It took ages for Nicole and me to get our luggage, and then we caught the bus to Europa. The ride took a long time, too. Green fields, hawthorn and furze in bloom, young sheep and baby horses, brown cows. The windmills on the Antrim hills, the fields in their crazy patchwork, huddles of grey sheds around farmhouses. The outskirts of Belfast, the familiar hulking shape of Cave Hill. Nicole pointed excitedly at Belfast Castle. I pointed out the H&W cranes to her. She stared in amazement at the ruined church on the M2 as we entered the city. The bus trundled through city centre, past Marks & Spencer, Castlecourt, City Hall. There's a spring market on. The Belfast Eye is still in operation, and a gilded carousel had been set up among the wee white booths on the lawn.
We got off at Europa and made the long walk up to Renwick. Paused at the garden by the Moravian church because Nicole was drawn to the smell of green. Admired the dresses in the bt9 window. A few of the shops along the way has changed, but not much is different. We trundled our suitcases down Elmwood Avenue. The ivy growing on the chapel was pale green, and the elm trees were lush with leaves.
As we approached Renwick, I glimpsed Emmaline through the window and pulled a face at her. I saw her jump up and run for the door, so I dropped my bag and ran for the door, and then she and Rachel came spilling out on top of us. A very noisy happy reunion. The three of us were laughing so hard. It seemed like a dream. We hauled our suitcases up into the hall. Phil and Ian were standing in the door of Room 1 (Phil is Warden now) and said hello. Catherine came running down the stairs to spring a huge hug on me. We went into the common room. Linsey was there, and so were Catherine L. and Heather. I sat in the window with Nicole and Rachel, beside Emmaline and Catherine.
Emmaline had a French exam at half two, so when she went to get lunch from the kitchen, Rachel, Linsey, and Heather took Nicole and me down the street to Oasis. It's a Friday, so not many people are up, and the cafe wasn't very busy. We had hardly stepped in when who should come running up to me but Sarah W. It was lovely to see her since I hadn't expected that until another couple of weeks. She has braces now. After we ordered our food, we sat down. When I went to pick up my sandwich, I shouted Calvin's name: there he was standing at the counter, and he turned around and gawked at me as though I were a ghost. 'What're you doin' here?' he asked, and I chatted with him a little.
After lunch, we went back to Renwick. Picked up our luggage, and then Rachel walked us over to her house. It's in St. Ives Gardens off Stranmilis Road. Rachel's house is on the left side of the road, blue door, frosted glass panes. Nicole was nearly dropping with exhaustion. Rachel's roommate Estelle greeted us when we stepped from the narrow entry hall into the living area. It's a very nice apartment. Six girls share it. It's tall and narrow, with odd flights of stairs up and down leading to the bedrooms. The big room on the ground floor has sofas at one end and a kitchen at the other. White and yellow and cream, welcoming. Estelle and Rachel made us at home immediatey. Estelle made tea, and she and Rachel found a ridiculous video of Daphne on their 'house computer'. Rachel helped us carry our bags upstairs. Nicola, one of her housemates, has mostly moved out of her room, so we're staying there on her double bed. It's a nice wee room, tucked under the roof, with a window. Skylights in this house. Back downstairs, Nicole fell asleep on the sofa. Estelle left with a friend, and Rachel eventually left to revise.
So I've been sitting quietly on the living room sofa, typing this and chatting with my mother on Google. Nicole is still asleep. I've drunk my tea. The sun has begun to come out a little through the skylight, showing a deep blue sky behind.
Thank God for His mercy, which lasts forever.
22 May 2009
20 May 2009
18 May 2009
05 May 2009
Moved out today.
Woke up at seven o'clock and lay in bed, too tired to move, for awhile. Rachel was sound asleep. When I finally did get up and dress, I noted gloomily that the pavement outside was wet. I ate breakfast while reading Flannery O'Connor, suitably depressing.
After Rachel went out to meet with a professor, I put on headphones and spent all morning listening to sermons while I packed up almost all of my possessions. Listening to the riches of God's grace, His effectual invitation to us, the wonderful promises that we will be like Christ, the truth that the commandments are in themselves promises of our future Christ-likeness, and so forth, took some of the sting out of the melancholy work. I hate saying good-bye to places.
I started to carry things down to the Tank: boxes of kitchen supplies, mostly, and the lamps, baskets, and a few other odds and ends. The rain was sprinkling the pavement, misting the cardboard as I shoved the boxes into place in the trunk of the car.
Once I had packed everything I could on my own, I went to the caf and picked up lunch. It was half twelve. Back in the apartment, Rachel was there. She got lunch from the caf, too, and we sat and chatted while we ate on the floor. Talked about economics and writing parodies of the Austrian school in the vein of Lewis Carroll's "Walrus and the Carpenter". Rain rattled against the windows, and the afternoon gloaming stretched chill and dreary over blank walls.
Rachel spent the afternoon working; I spent it reading O'Connor. The stories were so depressing, though, that I really ought to have worked instead.
At half two, my father and Stephen arrived from Stillwater with the minivan. They loaded the mattress and box springs into the minivan, and then it began to rain again in earnest. While they loaded the rest of the furniture, Rachel and I carried more things down to the Tank. We managed to fit almost everything into the Tank until my father realized that my desk wasn't going to fit into the minivan. So we rearranged everything--but by the time he was finished, everything had a place, stowed away in some nook or cranny of one of the two cars.
Once the cars were loaded, we went up to the apartment to regroup. Rachel had been helping us valiantly. I opened the wee box my father had brought from home: a necklace, my parents' graduation present to me. Lovely. My father had a gift for Rachel, too, a book about George Whitefield. Then we said good-bye to Rachel and headed out. Stephen rode with me in the Tank. We left before my father, but we got stuck in a traffic jam just after we merged onto the highway. So when we arrived at the first toll booth, there was the minivan right ahead of us--I have no idea how he did it. It made Stephen and me laugh, though.
We talked most of the time. I kept awake by asking Stephen random questions. We watched patches of vivid red Indian paintbrush slide through on the road embankments, and I saw a tiny black hummingbird in one of them. It rained the whole way.
In Stillwater, my mother welcomed us in the kitchen. She was making chili and cornbread for tea. Laura came bouncing downstairs. While she and I emptied the smaller things out of the cars, my father and Stephen carried the furniture into the entryway. Laura and I filled my room with boxes, suitcases, lamps, baskets, etc. Then she left to take a final exam. I spent half-an-hour or so tidying the place up.
My parents, Stephen, and I sat down to tea together at six o'clock. We had chili, brown rice, and cornbread. Stared at the sodden lawn with the rain steadily falling. We talked about moving, about Laura's graduation next week, about birds (I saw a goldfinch outside), about OSU and finals. It was good to sit and talk for awhile about things.
At seven o'clock I drove downtown for a haircut. The Greenery was open unusually late. Mrs. H was just putting the finishing touches on the styles of two women, one older and one middle aged, while a large middle aged man sat and watched. When I sat down, he immediately started to ask me questions, which I answered as politely as I could.
After the trio left, and Mrs. H had shampooed my hair, she cut it, laughing and laughing about her three guests. She and the other stylist told some pretty sad stories about their family and the family feuds that they've heard about. "It always makes me thankful that my daughters are healthy and walking with the Lord and living reasonably normal lifestyles," Mrs. H declared.
I drove home through persistent mizzle. Laura, Stephen, and my parents were watching "Loony Tunes". Then my father read a Sherlock Holmes mystery. I sat in the living room with everyone. My mother was ironing and Laura and Stephen were eating dried cranberries. The mystery was long and convoluted and not finished until nine o'clock. Then we did family worship. Psalm 139B tonight, so good, "If I say, 'Darkness covers me', the darkness hides not from Thee. To Thee both night and day are bright; the darkness shines as the light."
After family worship, I said good-bye to everyone. Laura bounced all over me. They stood on the front porch and waved good-bye through the rain.
Back on campus, I went up to the apartment. RCS was talking on the phone with her family. The apartment seems large and bare, cold, lit by the fluorescent lights. Not too unbearable, though. Both the sofas are still here, and Rachel's photos and posters on the walls. Rachel and I chatted for awhile. Told each other about our afternoons, laughed about our families. Then she gave me a poster as a gift, a beautiful map of Middle Earth. I was so delighted.
I'm sleepy.... Rachel sits on the floor by the red sofa, working on History of Economic Thought, her enormous binder spread beside her. Rain patters on the windows, and the lights hum monotonously.
Woke up at seven o'clock and lay in bed, too tired to move, for awhile. Rachel was sound asleep. When I finally did get up and dress, I noted gloomily that the pavement outside was wet. I ate breakfast while reading Flannery O'Connor, suitably depressing.
After Rachel went out to meet with a professor, I put on headphones and spent all morning listening to sermons while I packed up almost all of my possessions. Listening to the riches of God's grace, His effectual invitation to us, the wonderful promises that we will be like Christ, the truth that the commandments are in themselves promises of our future Christ-likeness, and so forth, took some of the sting out of the melancholy work. I hate saying good-bye to places.
I started to carry things down to the Tank: boxes of kitchen supplies, mostly, and the lamps, baskets, and a few other odds and ends. The rain was sprinkling the pavement, misting the cardboard as I shoved the boxes into place in the trunk of the car.
Once I had packed everything I could on my own, I went to the caf and picked up lunch. It was half twelve. Back in the apartment, Rachel was there. She got lunch from the caf, too, and we sat and chatted while we ate on the floor. Talked about economics and writing parodies of the Austrian school in the vein of Lewis Carroll's "Walrus and the Carpenter". Rain rattled against the windows, and the afternoon gloaming stretched chill and dreary over blank walls.
Rachel spent the afternoon working; I spent it reading O'Connor. The stories were so depressing, though, that I really ought to have worked instead.
At half two, my father and Stephen arrived from Stillwater with the minivan. They loaded the mattress and box springs into the minivan, and then it began to rain again in earnest. While they loaded the rest of the furniture, Rachel and I carried more things down to the Tank. We managed to fit almost everything into the Tank until my father realized that my desk wasn't going to fit into the minivan. So we rearranged everything--but by the time he was finished, everything had a place, stowed away in some nook or cranny of one of the two cars.
Once the cars were loaded, we went up to the apartment to regroup. Rachel had been helping us valiantly. I opened the wee box my father had brought from home: a necklace, my parents' graduation present to me. Lovely. My father had a gift for Rachel, too, a book about George Whitefield. Then we said good-bye to Rachel and headed out. Stephen rode with me in the Tank. We left before my father, but we got stuck in a traffic jam just after we merged onto the highway. So when we arrived at the first toll booth, there was the minivan right ahead of us--I have no idea how he did it. It made Stephen and me laugh, though.
We talked most of the time. I kept awake by asking Stephen random questions. We watched patches of vivid red Indian paintbrush slide through on the road embankments, and I saw a tiny black hummingbird in one of them. It rained the whole way.
In Stillwater, my mother welcomed us in the kitchen. She was making chili and cornbread for tea. Laura came bouncing downstairs. While she and I emptied the smaller things out of the cars, my father and Stephen carried the furniture into the entryway. Laura and I filled my room with boxes, suitcases, lamps, baskets, etc. Then she left to take a final exam. I spent half-an-hour or so tidying the place up.
My parents, Stephen, and I sat down to tea together at six o'clock. We had chili, brown rice, and cornbread. Stared at the sodden lawn with the rain steadily falling. We talked about moving, about Laura's graduation next week, about birds (I saw a goldfinch outside), about OSU and finals. It was good to sit and talk for awhile about things.
At seven o'clock I drove downtown for a haircut. The Greenery was open unusually late. Mrs. H was just putting the finishing touches on the styles of two women, one older and one middle aged, while a large middle aged man sat and watched. When I sat down, he immediately started to ask me questions, which I answered as politely as I could.
After the trio left, and Mrs. H had shampooed my hair, she cut it, laughing and laughing about her three guests. She and the other stylist told some pretty sad stories about their family and the family feuds that they've heard about. "It always makes me thankful that my daughters are healthy and walking with the Lord and living reasonably normal lifestyles," Mrs. H declared.
I drove home through persistent mizzle. Laura, Stephen, and my parents were watching "Loony Tunes". Then my father read a Sherlock Holmes mystery. I sat in the living room with everyone. My mother was ironing and Laura and Stephen were eating dried cranberries. The mystery was long and convoluted and not finished until nine o'clock. Then we did family worship. Psalm 139B tonight, so good, "If I say, 'Darkness covers me', the darkness hides not from Thee. To Thee both night and day are bright; the darkness shines as the light."
After family worship, I said good-bye to everyone. Laura bounced all over me. They stood on the front porch and waved good-bye through the rain.
Back on campus, I went up to the apartment. RCS was talking on the phone with her family. The apartment seems large and bare, cold, lit by the fluorescent lights. Not too unbearable, though. Both the sofas are still here, and Rachel's photos and posters on the walls. Rachel and I chatted for awhile. Told each other about our afternoons, laughed about our families. Then she gave me a poster as a gift, a beautiful map of Middle Earth. I was so delighted.
I'm sleepy.... Rachel sits on the floor by the red sofa, working on History of Economic Thought, her enormous binder spread beside her. Rain patters on the windows, and the lights hum monotonously.
01 May 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)