autumn paradise

I love autumn!

Now that's quite a statement, especially coming from a chronic melancholic. As I walked to uni today, along the road where I saw the Indian president and her entourage, I found myself wading through oak leaves. There is something very special about wading, I can't quite explain it. Wading in leaves is kind of like wading in water, which is also very nice. After my last lecture, which finished at 12, I walked through Hyde Park on my way to the Kensington Central Library. I felt happy, truly happy deep down. Perhaps it was because I had no labs today and could leave early. Or maybe it was because I had understood everything in the lecture, and was left feeling really good about myself. It may have been because of the crisp clear air and faint breeze that prickled my face, while the rest of my body was snuggled down in my jacket; which today wasn't too hot, because of the lower temperature. Also, the sky was completely clear, and I could almost feel the blue colour in the distance. Most likely it was a combination of all these things, and a few more.

This experience may not seem at all significant to you, but to me it was amazing. Feeling utterly content is a rare feeling in my world, probably because I think too much. Today was perfect. As I entered Kensington Gardens I could see the Albert Memorial framed by a row of golden oak trees on both sides of a wide expance of grass, where we had played halls football a couple of weeks ago. I turned left towards High Street Kensington and waded on through the leaves scattered along the path. You can argue the case for pine trees as much as you like, but in my world deciduous trees win any day. That's one of the things I love about England; there are so many old majestic trees, many of which seem to have found their way to Hyde Park.

I can't ever remember liking autumn before. I associate autumn with mud, cold and the colour grey - none of which are particularly endearing. Normally autumn in London would probably be much like the autumns I've already experienced. Rain and bad weather is often associated with London, especially during the autumn months. I've lived in London for a month now, and I have yet to buy an umbrella; I think that must be some sort of a record. The reason for not buying one isn't merely that I am stingy either; in fact I can only remember needing one on two occasions this past month... I dare say my luck is about to run out - but for as long as it lasts I'll make sure I am enjoying my awesome autumn.

seedless grapes; what a rip-off

After my last lecture yesterday afternoon I decided I'd walk to North Kensington Library. The Chelsea Library didn't have the next book in Simon Scarrow's series, and I wanted to read the book on the train to Canterbury tomorrow - so I decided I'd make trip of it. Now, obviously I could have taken the bus or the tube, but being stingy and felling up for the exercise I trudged off, although I didn't really know exactly where I was going. I headed north off campus and through Hyde Park, before I took a left and started walking down a broad residential street. Both pavements and the street between them were covered in some sort of sandy tarmac. It was hard and smooth, but not black, giving the street a slightly exotic feel. Along both sides there were large, impressive detatched houses behind locked gates. I quickly realised that I was walking down the main embassy street in London, and my heart gave a strange jolt as I recognised the Royal Norwegian Embassy. As I walked down the long street the houses just got bigger and more imposing, especially the Japanese embassy was quite impressive. When I finally got to the end of the street I made a left onto a busy road lined with shops on both sides. The contrast was striking, although still in the West-End this road had none of the majestic feeling about it. I had to pop into an estate agent to get redirected towards the library, where I ended up borrowing the three next Simon Scarrow books, not just the one. By this time I was hot, and I'd resorted to carrying my jacket over my arm. I knew I needed to to some shopping, but due to the fact that I was now three miles away from halls I didn't want to buy anything just yet - untill I stumbled upon the Portobello Road market. I ended up bying six oranges and a huge bunch of green grapes, which I munched on more or less continuously while negotiating my way back to halls.

I stopped to rest and eat some more grapes in Kensington Gardens, the west end of Hyde Park, and found myself in a reflective mood. As I left the library I'd decided I wouldn't listen to music on my way back, which meant I actually had the opertunity to think. If I'd known that the grapes I bought weren't seedless, I probably wouldn't have bought them, but in hindsight I'm glad I did. I was sitting on the bench eating my grapes, as I began to bite off half of the grapes, suck out the seeds, and spit them out. Normally I'd just swallow them, but for some reason I decided not to, they don't exactly add to the flavour. All of a sudden it struck me, that from the vine's perspective I was missing the point entirely. The vine only makes the grape in order to spread its seeds. Performing hormone treatment to make seedless grapes is really quite rude; I mean, we still get the grapes, but the vine that does all the work is ripped off. The grape is there to protect the seeds, and to be eaten, so that the seeds will be spread as the animal eating the grape disposes of them - quite ingenious really. This all made me think of how we sometimes miss the point. Like if someone throws away a present, but saves the wrapping paper.

On Friday I also talked to Ms Sandanandan, the Undergraduate Academic Administrar of the Chemistry Department. I told her that I wouldn't attend late afternoon Friday lectures because of my religious convictions. Well, as I've written earlier, my religious convictions are ever so slightly in termoil at the moment. Despite this I decided I wasn't prepared to go to letures. Since talking to Ms Sandanandan it has struck me how I've always maltreated the Sabbath, and still do. Living in a religious bubble most of my life I've often taken it for granted. This week-end I've be thinking. What justifies my claim not to attend lectures on Friday nights, not to play volleyball competitively on Saturdays? I might say that I don't see anything wrong with playing recreational sports on the Sabbath, or hanging out with friends, even spending time with family; but do these things justify skipping lectures, or telling my employer that I can't come in to work? After all, I don't tell my lecturers that I'll be missing their lectures because I want to spend time with my family, or because I want to read a novel; that quite simply won't do. I don't tell them that I won't be able to make it because I need to catch up on some sleep either. Yet often these are the things we spend our Sabbaths doing. We eat the grape, but spit out the seeds; we accept the part of God's gift that we like, and spit out the rest. Despite shunning legalism, Sabbath keeping seems to be all about what we can't do; but do the things we do justify our time off? Either I need to decide to keep the Sabbath properly, or give up my lame excuse for a day off.