Oxford University, Pembroke College, and a Student Cell

I am here for The Conference that Cannot be Named, which is terribly dead sexy.

And I am being put up in Pembroke College's student housing. If you enter the main door to the College, walk into the courtyard, then turn right, go through to the other courtyard, then walk around to the right, you will reach a final door before the soda machine. That is stairway 10. I am in there. Then after pressing the little double-secret security dongle into its wee little receptor, one may enter.

Climb the stairs up up up until room 11, and that's me. I have a wee little student cell, a shower, a WC, and lots of closet space. And a brilliant view of the surrounding areas.

There seems to me to be fewer spires here than I might have imagined. Am I thinking about Yale or am I remembering Cambridge?

Yesterday, I offended the lovely Miss Annabelle Lambert of C-People as I was more interested in the Honda African Twin and the other Dual-Purpose enduro motorcycles than I was the Tower of London and other acid rain-addled hostorical pieces.

She was lovely, though, and indulgent. She took the piss out of me something awful, which means she quite likes me friendwise. So, that's a brilliant thing.

Earlier that day, I was able to pop up in enough time to get to the gym with Audrey. She is mad mad mad, but in a brilliant way. She might have started a fire in that gym. Yes, she is very sexy and delicious to look at -- true; but what I mean is that she was spazzing on the elliptical machine. Very literally, her feet were moving fast enough that they spun around like a cartoon Wyle E. Coyote, her legs merely blurry circles.

She was also quite funny because she was dancing around passionately, her arms pumping, her hands gesticulating, and her body glistening with all the labor. She could have powered Vegas that morning. I teased her mercilously.

Unconsciously, I took to the Erg. I pulled pretty hard and was able to do the 2000m in 00:08:07.2. Mind you, it was 7am. Funnily, the erg is the only thing besides running that they boys are willing to do for cardio. When I mounted the elliptical next to Audrey so as to tease her, I looked over and all the ergs were being used. Mind you, there was only one boy who had any form. Maybe not all Brits row.

Obviously not, with that form!

I spent the rest of that day trying not to fall over dead from the heat. There are zero A/Cs apparently in the UK. And besides, everybody has such a stiff upper-lip that I was the only Londoner with bad enough form so as to sweat profusely. I burned through t-shirts. When the weather is like this, I always recommend buying GAP stock as I will be purchasing an average of 2,000 t-shirts-a-day, so as to replace my poor dead soldiers.

Oxford is fly. More stories to come.