Letters from a Goldfish Bowl Term 1
September 09
Dear Suze,
Thank you for driving me to my new home, this goldfish bowl known as college. I now think that your little Micra is really a tardis, the amount of stuff you stashed into it for me.
When I got here, I think I queue jumped. They were just starting to do the paperwork and I walked straight into the line, wondering why everyone else was sat waiting. I felt guilty for about two seconds when I realised they had been sat waiting for the show to start. I signed all the papers and collected my key. ‘Up the stairs to the second floor near the dining room’ Keiron told me. Keiron is the warden, an ex student himself who lives on the third floor. I went out and called you and convinced you to park illegally. Thank god I did that. Forty two stairs from the back door to my floor. Forty Two. Slowly, and with the utmost exhaustion you helped me climb those stairs, about four or five times until everything was in my cell, my room.
I keep the window open to try to keep that damp smell away, but the view through the dirty window is nice, the trees Worcester College planted decades ago, Holm Oaks, to hide the site of Ruskin from their rich little poor boys and girls. I can see grey squirrels and Jays as well as the iniquitous pigeons eating the acorns most days.
I have unpacked my stuff, found a few things I needed so went shopping. I now have some glasses to supplement the mugs I brought with me. I am sure it will feel like home one day.
This first week has flown by. Every day I have attended induction classes; nine on Tuesday alone. I will never remember all this stuff. Wednesday though was fantastic. I was made a member of the Bodleian Library. We were taken there in tranches, sat in Charles the Firsts parliament room, given a talk on the Bodleian, and then sworn in. I have made my oath, promised I will not injure any books or take in any fire or flame.
My new class mates seem okay, that mediocre word we use when we are adjusting to a new set of people, a new situation. There are eighteen of us there, some a lot older than me, some younger. A couple around my age. Two of my class live in my corridor, Jan and Joan. Joan is so dinky and Jan so tall and elegant. Both older ladies. Dilly who you met when we unloaded your tardis is also in my class, she is in Kitson next to another nice lady called Patsy. So many names to remember, I am sure I will forget them by Monday.
Meal times are an entirely new experience, queuing up for food to be lopped onto the plate, not given a chance to ask for a small portion. And so noisy. Eating with so many people for every meal, I was glad when the weekend came and I could have some peace and quiet. Except, when the weekend came I was alone. I did not see anyone from Friday evening, until I go to breakfast tomorrow morning. It is very lonely. I am used to my own company, hopefully I will get used to the isolation, yet this weekend I have missed the boys, missed Buffy and Athena, missed my own bed.
I have given up everything to do this course. It has to be a success for me. Thank you again for your help last week and I know I will see you soon.
Love
Karen
October 09
Dear Suze,
What a weekend! My bloody brother in law has cost me money. As you know he refused to let Richard take my bedroom furniture to Bristol last weekend because he would not let a non family member take the furniture into his house, the one he co owns with my sister. Well, he did it again. I arranged to send the furniture this weekend just gone, Richard driving it there with Christopher to placate Him; he had my sister in tears as he argued with her about my furniture. Finally I spoke with him and said ‘if this is a huge problem then I will tell the boys to take the furniture to the dump.’ All of a sudden he was all apple pie niceness. Of course he did not mean that to happen, of course the boys, his nephews, could take my furniture there. I was shaking and now have my eczema back, a burn like rash all over my shins.
I have little enough money, just £10 a week without him doing this to me.
Speak Soon
Karen
November 09
Dear Suze,
Thank you for inviting me to a family dinner over Reading Week. It was kind of you to put me up and share a meal with me. I am sorry I confused matters by the constant changing of dates, this place is so organised, that even I did not know if I was coming or going.
My bus trip home, now that was something else altogether. I decided that I would catch the later bus as you know, the one that departs the bus station after the rush hour. An associate, Big Helen, the one from Swindon, asked when I was going home – it was a bit obvious I was parking my small suitcase in the hall when I met her – I told her and she said ‘what a shame. I’m going home tomorrow, we could have travelled together.’ I will admit I sighed a huge sigh of relief as I went in to eat my supper.
I got to the bus station with plenty of time to spare. There were a few people there but some of the buses were running late. Not mine though. It arrived only a few minutes late and hurrying to the bus was, yes you guessed it Big Helen. Now to understand the entire devastation of this fact you need to know a little about her. First she calls me Carol. Second any conversation you strike up, Big Helen has done it, is doing it or has a veracious opinion on it. She is also slightly deaf or has such bad people skills that she cannot see that her target audience is bored with listening. The bus journey to Swindon takes one hour and fifteen minutes. I had sat next to the window, attached my iPod to my ears, picked up my book, and yes Big Helen sat in the seat next to me. Oh and there is a reason Big Helen is known as Big Helen, she is tall and wide. I was now squeezed into the window and being talked at. I would like to tell you about the conversation, I can give you the gist, something on her work for the police, more on being transgender – oh forgot to say Big Helen was a man until she was forty , being a discharged bankrupt, and more and more.
So you are imagining the scene and probably thinking poor you thank god it wasn’t me. Now add to your imagined scene six teenagers with mp3 players and cameras all talking twenty to the dozen. All sat in front of me. I felt doomed.
And then the bus broke down.
And we waited.
And waited.
It took an hour for a replacement bus to arrive. Finally I had some salvation. The teenagers had been collected by their fathers and in moving to the new bus I was able to sit with my suitcase. Two and a half hours after leaving, I arrived. Kicked off my shoes and made a cup of Earl Grey.
God have you seen the time, I have to go to class. Hope you are having a good time and speak to you soon.
Karen
December 09
Dear Suze,
Thank you very much for your invitation to spend Christmas with you. It will be delightful to join you and your plans are exciting. I am particularly looking forward to having two Christmas meals, one with my sons and one with you and your other guests. I am also more than happy to cook breakfast each day.
I am fascinated by your idea of giving a secret santa shoe box and it is nice of you to tell me that I will be getting Simon’s secret santa. I have noted the rules and will go to a charity shop to fill the box with items totally £8. A delightful figure. As you know, I am not very good with charity shops, tend to dash in and out and avoid them like the plague generally, so this will be so much fun to explore one looking for things for Simon. Out of interest, what is he interested in?
I am now writing my assignment for the end of term and am busy revising for my end of term exam, so I am sorry that I will not be able to be with you until the 15 December. And thank you for your offer of a lift home as you can come here via Tewkesbury. I am very lucky; I am allowed to leave my possessions here for the Christmas break so the tardis will not be over laden.
I look forward to seeing you then.
Karen
