Students arrive in the morning, starting at 6:30. I had the sense (for once) to stay out by Heathrow on arrival night so that I can sleep in until, oh, 5:30 and still meet them. Hopefully there will still be a little snow remaining, my view of the runway the morning from the hotel was more like what we'd expect in Buffalo than London!
I've been in London about 36 hours and I've already walked across my favorite bridge to the National Theatre (and seen an absolutely searing play there, Our Class, nothing but eight actors and eight chairs, a spellbinding 3 hours). The lights on the Thames, the fairy lights in the trees (we'd call them Xmas lights) and the hues of the theatre were beautiful on a still snowy night. I've also gone to CAPA to say hi to the staff and pick up student travel passes (no sissy buses door to door from airport for UB, we use public transportation from day one), sussed the student housing, picked up pocket journals for students as arrival "gifts" (inconsequential gifts, for sure...unless they make them otherwise).
Yesterday was an interesting Tube day, with several sightings of people in little clumps with not many clothes on (fully dressed tops, incl hats and gloves, but boots and just shorts/panties on the bottom). Until I read the paper this morning I had no clue it was worldwide No Pants on the Subway Day. Even now, with a special day frame of reference, this seems like a suboptimal choice of seasons for a northern hemisphere pantless activity. But then one of the many things I love here is the sheer incomprehensibility of some things. Like TV.
On the telly tonight:
A documentary on an inner-city "casualty" (emergency) ward...where the staff are treating a guy with severe burns all over his face. There was no need to digitize for privacy, given the fully bandaged face. How did that happen? Well, he set his face on fire while busking as a fire-eater in Leeds. My first question was--who the hell could make a living in Leeds eating fire? Who the hell could make a living in Leeds doing anything? Was his bandaged head and occupational choice supposed to arouse curiosity, or sympathy, or just relief that none of us is that stupid? Setting one's face on fire seems like a pretty predictable risk after squirting lighter fluid into the mouth and then exhaling into a lit match. But I'm oddly fascinated and wonder, of what pedagogical use might this example be (justifies TV watching)? Could I use it in the sociology of health care class? the social policy course? Will David (now the audience has been fed his name)get worker's compensation for injuries acquired on the job? At least he doesn't have to worry about health care bills, maybe that's what I'll emphasize. I suppose that is a good thing, since fire eaters seem likely to be an underinsured occupational categories in the U.S.
Also on TV tonight (but I'm not watching, being fully enthralled by David's circumstances):
The British Family (BBC Two)
Muslim Driving School (BBC Two)
The first show has five stars from reviewers, too bad I'm now riveted by skin puffing up on David the fireater's right cheek. The narrator is no longer calling David a fireater, now he's called an "entertainer"...perhaps to arouse audience sympathy? I'm mesmerized sometimes by what's on TV here.
Survivors (BBC One). Horrible, airing that crappy show should push BBC One down the hierarchy of BBC outlets to something like BBC Ten...that is until I saw the double header that followed that put BBC One back on top of my list:
The Girl Who Cries Blood (when she cries blood drips from Twinkle's eyes, and sometimes also inexplicably from her hairline and feet), followed immediately by The Man Who Can't Stop Hiccuping (a 25 year old guy who has hiccupped for more than two years). I hate having the hiccups for even two minutes, that is must see TV. Anyway, kudos to BBC One for redeeming their top spot in my British telly watching league table by arousing my prurient interest in the (bizarre) human condition.
Oh wait...he's now been completely unbandaged and is saying "....ahhhhh, ahhhhh" (to the nurse peering in his blistered mouth with a flashlight) and there is no damage to his tongue. However, looks like the eyebrows fared less well. Hurray anyway! How could David make a living eating fire without a tongue to help propel flammable liquids out of his mouth? Or is the tongue an occupational impediment? For fireaters, maybe eyebrows are "nice to have" not "need to have," given flames as likely distractors from (or cause of) any missing facial hair. Not sure about the tongue though, I'll have to mull that one over. Maybe exhaling without a muscle in the way is more efficient?
The dénouement. David's bounced back, and his name and face are fully revealed (all publicity is good?). The narrator [voice over a headshot of unburnt David, face as pink as a baby's bum and the tiniest bald spot in his moustache] just said (without a hint of irony) "After a couple of months with a stingy face, David has made a complete recovery. But he has not yet returned to fire-eating." Gotta love it when stories are resolved in single episode. Or is "...not yet returned to fire-eating" a hint of a cliffhanger? Quick, hire David, the pink stingy-faced entertainer with wispy eyebrows and patchy moustache, before he immolates again.
Telly life in London 2010 already shows promise, after a single night of semi-viewing whilst (I love that word, which can only be used here) blogging. It will be awesome when I figure out when Doc Martin and Shameless are on...
No comments:
Post a Comment