Chronicles of Oxford: The Last Battle

I returned to Pasley on Thursday and have experienced, along with a slew of contradicting feelings, utter bewilderment. Oxford was incredible after all - further enforcing my resolve to study literature there, as while as live permanently in England. I still missed our familiar, languid summers and continued to furtively count down the days - but, after hugging goodbye my new, like-minded friends on the 26th , found a smidgen of sadness mixed in with all that excitement . Stepping off the plane was almost like stepping out of the Wardrobe in the Chronicles of Narnia - emerging from an extraordinary adventure to find no time had passed, and nothing had changed - expect, it seems, me. The days here are drastically different, and, thus, I thought I may write out a schedule to demonstrate this contrast.

*This “ish’s” are very relevant - time generally goes unheeded up at Pasley - and schedules, in truth, do not exist

9:30ish: I wake up, and, after perhaps reading a bit in bed, wake up and prepare for the day

10:00ish: Breakfast consisting (generally) of toast, any sort of candy laying around, and a cup of creamy earl grey tea. Crepes, or pancakes also tend to crop up on special occasions

10:30ish: A game of crib outside on the porch while I finish my tea.

11:30ish: My attempt to compose a short story, or, when that fails, a blog post. A teacher at Oxford recommended one schedules time to write, ideally in the morning, so, come afternoon, you feel some sense of accomplishment. Currently, I am working on a article for a interesting site I found called “listverse,” which will pay a hundred dollars for a list of any ten items, with a small description below. Mine, to illustrate my slightly despairing mood, is “Ten children’s books with sinister hidden meanings.”

12:30ish: Lunch, probably, and another cup of tea.

1:00ish: A rambling walk around the island, and, when I want to feel extra productive, I listen to some form of podcast. Lately, I have been studying Virginia Woolf - stumbling through “To the lighthouse” and conducting some intriguing research. BBC in our time is a great resource for essentially any subject, as while as Great Writers Inspire

2:00ish: Inevitably - a chore requiring use of the boat. This could be dropping, or picking guests up at Bowen Bay, or, getting fuel and unloading our trash on Gibsons. The latter “errand,” although composed of extremely foul-smelling garbage, also enables me to invite friends to help out, keep me company, and, after all the work is complete, share a couple cones of the coveted Mike’s Ice Cream. I have been to England and back and still attest that this parlour is quite superior to all - a cut above the rest with products made upon premises and a vast selection of flavours.

3:00ish: Card games and a swim at the neighbours - where all the island kids tend to conjugate for snacks or to plan massive capture the flag games that never end well. The ratio of boys to girls, unfortunately, is quite askew - and my brother typically is the sole boy, leaving me to contend with the mounting crushes my friend all seem to harbour for him.

5:00ish: The grey area before dinner - perhaps devoted to baking, a spontaneous (and belated) tea party, or simply a good book.

6:00ish: Dinner - either one haphazard burst where we all eat at different times, or perhaps a nice sit down affair upon the porch. Complete, perhaps, with some fresh caught crab (if we are lucky.)

6:30ish: Another murky time period - interspersed by reading and likely another neighborhood visit, complete with cards, chatting by the firepit, cliff jumping, sing alongs, and perhaps a night swim in the phosporence.

9:30ish: Bedtime - perhaps. Either way, at some point in the night (or early morning) I find myself reading for at least one hour with a cup of hot chocolate at hand. Always a perfect ending, no matter the days own calibre.

In retrospect, this schedule bears an uncanny resemblance to most people’s fairyland. An entire month - let alone summer - spent in such a manner is sheer luxury. Although I posses some unquenchable urging to be productive - or at least the sense I am not completely wasting my time- Pasley, like Oxford, does offer some rare, if different gifts. Not only revivement for the year ahead - but independance, social interactions (with a whole range of ages,) imagination, and a huge toll of characteristics that are not always acquired through the conventional means of study and homework. There are other ways, too, of staying productive while remote - exercising (easy with all the beautiful hiking trails,) researching my favorite authors, listening to podcasts, writing, and reading, which will never ceases to be a worthy pastime. In conclusion, I hope the immense value of Pasley never diminishes or fades altogether - and even into my adulthood (hopefully after many other adventures) will always be my solace.