Still Crocked

I may have to give in and go see a quack about my left arm, which annoys me. I might skip that and just go straight to hospital for an x-ray. Blast and damn.
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Breakfast yesterday was wonderful – I had the full works at Brown\’s Café in the covered market in Oxford. When it was George\’s caff I went there every morning before my Finals for full English plus black pudding and that may well have made the difference between the Second I got and the Third I richly deserved.
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The first time I went to the Wadham canteen for breakfast in my third year, the staff refused to serve me because they\’d never seen me before. Once I\’d convinced them I\’d been a member of college for more than two years, I wished I hadn\’t. The breakfast was horrible and the coffee a noisome grey concoction that I suspect had been boiling since the night before.
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Hence George\’s, now Brown\’s. I didn\’t dare try the Wadham breakfast this time round, but I\’m sure it\’s better. It could hardly be worse.

Crocked

My friend the Vinyard Owner was having problems with his broadband so I couldn\’t do anything yesterday. Sunday… well, shall we move swiftly on from the subject of the grading? Vinyard Owner finds it a bit hilarious that a middle-aged woman was not very good at doing a jump-kick above her head (I can do it fine at head-height) and crocked her left arm badly failing to break a black breaker-board (I hit it wrongly with an outward knife-hand strike and caught my forearm instead). He\’s far too decent to laugh and as he and his wife and daughter were feeding me royally, providing me with bed and bath and we were setting the world to rights over his whisky, I couldn\’t really argue the point.
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Driving is an ordeal with a crocked left arm as it\’s inexplicably hard to change down from third to second, something you do far more often than you may think.
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I\’m now in Oxford, staying in a JCR room at my old college, Wadham. It\’s a much nicer room than last time, next to the building where I lived as a fresher, and has the unheard of luxury of a loo and shower on the same landing. Amazing! When I was a student, the nearest loo was across a quad, through a passage and down some stairs. The showers were two quads away. Like everyone else I learned to pee in the washbasin.
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Wierdly, the historic college has changed more than the people, building a complete new quad where I once lived in squalor with my boyfriend. Hideous cruelty to students still goes on. At 8 oclock this morning, the ghastly noise of a fire alarm going WAAGH WAAGH! got me out of bed and outside, along with a bunch of feebly blinking undergrads in various states of pyjama, dressing gown or tightly wrapped duvet. It was a drill, of course. The only compensation was the very fit young men standing around, moaning gently. And if I stood at exactly the right angle I could just avoid seeing all the very pretty young women.