London Reaches a Record High of...83°?

It tickles me that the English invented sunhats. Since there is so very little sun indeed on this little island. Though I must admit that on Wednesday, the first day of sun in my week of British living, I did see more sunhats than one would see anywhere else in the world (except perhaps at the Kentucky Derby).

Wednesday I visited the lovely city of Bath. I had read on-line the previous night of Bath's rich history and Roman landmarks. When I stepped off the train I expected to be stunned by architectural marvels and crumbling 14th century facades. Instead, I was greeted by a myriad of the modern age, blue tarps and whining cranes, promises of landmarks in the near future (2008 crossed out to 2010) and men in hard hats whistling at female passerbys. England seems in quite a hurry to compete with its English speaking neighbors across the ocean; tiny cafés have been replaced with Pizza Huts and small clothing boutiques have been overrun by GAP and American Apparel. I would like to start a campaign "Leave Britain old!" (I am sure I would be joined by many old men carrying knobby wooden sticks and memories of the second World War)

One thing I can say for her Majesty's land--it is GREEN. A green that even Kermit the frog would be astounded by, ashamed at his own paleness. I interviewed at Bath Spa University for a position in a Masters programme (yes, the British spelling) and as the bus progressed down the one lane country road (which was never intended for buses of any sort) the countryside progressed into deeper shades of green, greens that Texas does not possess.

The university itself was located in the middle of farming land, rumored to be owned by the Prince of Wales, full of bleeting sheep and braying cows. It reminded me so of Magnolia High School, haystacks and longhorns forming the schools perimeter. Right at home. Bath Spa's facilities are, as the Brits would say, "dodgy", but what they lack in industrial beauty they make up for in 14th century castle ruins and public footpaths along the lakes. I took my lunch outside a small, open cottage (I hoped was intended for the purposes of passerbys) and felt that I had entered some sort of enchanted forest. It reminded me so of the Redwall books I had read as a child, I would not have been the least surprised to see a mouse or mole run by dressed in religious garb preparing tea for a visiting Badger Lord.

I ate lunch by the lake, enjoying the sun on the hottest day in record for Great Britain (sad that 83° is a record for summer heat), watching a family of swans make their way across the lake. And then I felt a small droplet. I looked up at the smattering of clouds and thought "surely not". I kept eating, refusing to believe that the sogginess in my sandwhich was caused by anything other than the mustard. Eventually, when the letters in my book began to run, I gave up to Mother Nature (who seems to reside permanently in Great Britain) and moved inside.

The rest of the day passed in a drizzle and a constant self-berating for being so stubborn and optimistic and not bringing the darn umbrella (as PAB had suggested many times that morning). When I tried to look up at the Bath Abbey or the historic Roman baths my glasses were covered in rain droplets. The once cute cobblestone streets became slippery. And surely enough, as soon as I made my way back to the train station, the clouds cleared and the sun popped in.

The answer to my problems seems to be a later sleeptime. The sunniest part of the day is always in the late evening (as the sun refuses to set here until at least 10:30 P.M.) Perhaps I should practice night tourism. I could, at the very least, have a reason for owning a sunhat.