"Realistically detailed"

I couldn't keep this from you:

On my search for a translation of Thomas Aquinas' Summa, I found something quite different. Appart from being different, it is also a) horrible and b) very interesting.

Here we see two traditions (on the one hand the tradition of the nativity scene underneath the Christmas tree, which has developed from nativity plays in late medieval churches created to involve the ordinary laity in the experience of religion; and on the other hand the tradition of a Santa Claus bringing gifts from the North Pole, which developed from a Dutch/German tradition evolving around a locally (Amsterdam!) and regionally (oceanic trade!) important saint, who in the Middle Ages would have provided a connection to Chirst and an advocate to St.Peter/God (to obtain a seat in heaven)); we see these two traditions, that share their earliest origin (Christianity), and that have subsequently been separated for twenty centuries, REUNITE, in this magnificent/horrendous celebration of bad taste.

And then I dropped a soaked teabag...

... into a left-hand shoe. More in general, bodily coordination over the last few days has not been om over naar huis te schrijven (dus bij deze). I keep dropping keys and hitting doorposts, and during my presentation this morning I had forgotten how to speak English. So I'll just keep inside with my mouth shut for the rest of the day and write a bit in essays and hebdomadals. No parties for me today - and I'm happy I don't have to cook, as I already tried that yesterday (most of the time I cook double portions, as I'm sure most of you single-living students without dining hall do).

And now if e'er by chance I put
My fingers into glue,
Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot
Into a left-hand shoe,
Or if I drop upon my toe
A very heavy weight,
I weep, for it reminds me so
Of that old man I used to know -
Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow
Whose hair was whiter than the snow,
Whose face was very like a crow,
With eyes, like cinders, all aglow,
Who seemed distracted with his woe,
Who rocked his body to and fro,
And muttered mumblingly and low,
As if his mouth were full of dough,
Who snorted like a buffalo -
That summer evening long ago
A-sitting on a gate.

Friday I did go to a very nice party of a German friend, where we drank German punch (with yogurt and cream - or is that global? I in any case hadn't tasted it before. But it was certainly not bad.) and ate German Christmas cake.

Yesterday, very busily engaged in circumvening essay writing, I found some nice stuff on Aphex Twin's music made visual (through spectograms - diagrams plotting sound frequency against time, with colours representing the volume of the different frequencies): http://www.bastwood.com/aphex.php. Of course, hiding messages in sound or music isn't a new idea (as always, in pop music The Beatles were (one of the?) first to experiment with it. But the phenomenon is much older), but these are some nice 1999 examples, which inspire you to go off and look for more hidden messages.

What else is there? I have been reading in Jippus et Jannica. I didn't bring a dictionary (and didn't feel like like starting my computer), but I get the gist of the stories, and even most of the fun. I must admit I never (or hardly ever) read them as a child, so this is a good way to make up. And to try to keep my Latin from further "Decline and Fall".

Also, I have gotten me some Christmas decoration. I didn't like Christmas spirit to pass my home completely this year. On the other hand, I didn't like the kitsch that you find all over (more affordable) Exeter, but in the end I found two small red fake pearl and ruby balls in an irresistible bric-à-brac shop in Okehampton (where I simply died to instantaneously start collecting my trousseau (plates, mirrors, bedside tables, linencupboards, ivory handled knife sets, sugar and salt and flour pots, and so on), were it not the case that 1) I couldn't possibly carry it to Exeter; 2) not for all the world could I move it to the Netherlands; 3) I have no home in the Netherlands to store it; 4) I have no idea whether or when in my life there comes a moment that I settle down steadily enough as to be able to use all this stuff). Anyway: these glimmery ruby balls sound horrible, I know, but they actually look rather nice, sobered up by some big green branches.

I didn't tell you about my rudimentary Sinterklaas celebration, did I? Well, next week, on the fifth of December, our flat organises a Christmas dinner. I took a big bag of pepernoten with me in September (yep, they were being sold already back then), which gives me a nice opportunity to share with the others our noble tradition of eating yourself sick on flour and sugar on the night before some Catholic saint died (I don't mean that: in truth, I am a sincere fan of Sint Nicolaas). But that's not all: it turns out that they have a tradition here (imported, of course), involving some mysterious "secret Santa" and presents and, jaja, the drawing of lots! (Maybe this is something you've all long known. I have always been a Santa Claus nitwit.) So that's how I will spend my "Glorious Little Evening". Please tell me about yours...