Countdown…

Thanksgiving Week is here, and the temperature is frrrrostly cold. The high today was 2°C/36°F, which means that when we go outside, we walk verrry quickly indeed! Going to the gym this week is going to be pretty chilly! Time to break out the balaclavas!

The first snow of the year is forecast for the first weekend of Advent, which will probably get a whole bunch of people excited about a white Christmas. Sigh. It’s definitely a lot colder this autumn than last, and we look forward to getting out to photograph the snow if it does fall. It’ll look great on all the Christmas lights!

We almost hate to write anything about the situation with the hot water, the heat, and the apartment, mainly because a.) it worries our Mom, and b.) it worries our sisters, and c.) so many of you have said, “Oh, please just move!” Well, you’ll be pleased to know that we are moving. In May.

Prior to all of the nonsense with the boiler, the property owner had raised the rent £45. We were informed of this when our six month lease ran out. (Leases here are rarely longer term than that, and the property managers get to charge an “administrative fee” every time the renter signs up for another six months. Lovely, hm?) We were resigned to the rent raise, but asked for a year lease. It has been denied — but the rent raise has also been rescinded. Both of those little bonuses run out in May, at which time we’re pretty sure the property owner would really like to put the apartment back on the market — we, and it, have been really been more trouble than it’s worth to her. We’re seriously considering moving out of Glasgow altogether for a smaller town. We’ll see. Meanwhile, the update:

• The property owner has faxed, posted and called the gas company to give them her permission to remove and reinstall the boiler and pipes,
• The gas company assured her that the job would take just eight hours,
• The project supervisor called T. to ask if she’d heard from the property owner. Yes. He works for Scottish Gas.
• The property owner emailed D. with the job number of the project on her property.
• T. phoned the project supervisor with the job number. He said he would call right back. This was last Wednesday

That’s how the boiler project stands. Meanwhile, three teams of people have come in to look at the oven door, exclaim about the hinges, make noises about having their technicians come out to look at it — and have never returned. ANY OF THEM. A second electrician finally came out to check why some of the lights and the plugs in the bathroom don’t work — it turns out they were never wired. The first electrician didn’t even notice that.

So. May. Seems like earlier might actually be better, huh?

On campus, people are getting that glazed sort of look that indicates the point in the term where there are tons of papers due, and also tons of parties scheduled; it’s a struggle sometimes to balance the two. Meanwhile, D’s glazed look is due to having ninety-five sources to read for his dissertation, and beginning to read through more than just the abstracts — while balancing that with a major project demonstration for the executives at work.

T’s grumpy expression is due to proofreading three hundred and sixty-five pages of manuscript — hopefully for the last time — and trying to finish her work in progress before Christmas.

(The skull’s less-than-glazed expression is because some wag tucked two painted ping pong balls into the head of one of the statues on the bridge. He looks like he’s had too much caffeine.) The countdown to the end of the year, the end of the semester and the holidays is officially on. The lights have been turned on in George’s Square, and the Christmas Market has officially been opened. There are ice skaters on the freezing rinks, and every evening buses are filled with people not going home after work, but heading directly out to shop. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

We are, of course, thoroughly ignoring that at the moment, despite the fact that we’ve been singing Christmas music since October. It hardly seems possible but our Bach concert is next Sunday — on St. Andrews Day, much to our great shock. As usual, we are completely not ready, our German is horrible, and we’re wondering how on earth this has happened. Meanwhile our director is still cracking jokes and being his usual bombastic self, so apparently we sound better than we think. We’ll have to see.

Meanwhile, D’s biggest concern is whether or not he still fits into his dress slacks. Oh, not for the reasons you might think — it’s not the Cakes Run Amok scenario that happens to most people. No, his concern is because he’s been doing squats with weights — and his legs are a little bigger than they were last year. Not sumo big, but dress clothing in the UK seems to be cut mostly along very severe lines, and his tux fit perfectly last year. We will both will be very cross if the weights necessitate a trip to Marks & Spencers in the month of December. The season of shopping insanity has really begun.

Last year, Thanksgiving was something we tucked in between D’s classes and T’s work, and was a little depressing. This year, we’re going to make an attempt to be a little more organized. The cranberry sauce is already made, the potatoes scrubbed and ready. Though we have extra rehearsal Thanksgiving evening, we plan to actually sit down for dinner at some point. Already we are deeply grateful that we’re better adjusted to this place than we were last year, that we’ve learned to roll with the way things go here, for the most part. We’ve retained our sense of humor, and apparently are adjusting to cold so well we could probably move to Antarctica and be just fine.

(T. just muttered something about “Yeah, right.”)

We’re thinking of all of you at home and in your various warm(ish) flats around the city. Hope you and yours find time to count your blessings, too.

Cheers,

– D & T

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