Amsterdam: came back

But of course the very first thing that happened to us upon arrival was cancellation of our Cambridge train, because fuck you that’s why. Cross Country, you always find a suitable way to piss people off, lol.

Амстердам: завтра (и рабочее-пунктирное)

В кои-то веки я (почти что) молодец: разослала авторам своего сборника рецензии с подтверждением их участия (повезло не всем, ну да что поделать) — корпела над формулировками весь день, но, наконец-то, все сделала.
А завтра, меж тем, Амстердам! А у меня еще конь не валялся и чемодан не собран. Но предвкушение Рембрандта, мельниц и каналов несомненно радует!

«Под знаком -нео»: вышла!

Так, ну что) у вашей покорной вышла тут долгожданная статья в коллективной монографии, которая смогла состояться только лишь благодаря усилиям прекрасной Вероники Зусевой-Озкан, за что я ей бесконечно признательна. Даже не верится, что мой кропотливый труд многих месяцев, долго ждавший своего часа, наконец-то, увидел свет. Ура! Неплохой подарок к грядущему пятидесятилетию, я считаю)

 In full glory:

Sunday wanderings: Fulbourn (photos)

 And as usual a few photos  illustrating the previous post:

Sunday wanderings: Fulbourn

Oddly enough, I haven’t managed to visit the grand metropolis of Fulbourn during these almost 13 years I’ve lived in England until today, but finally mischief was managed. It took us under four hours (if to include lunch in Fulbourn’s central pub on the High St, The Six Bells) and plenty of sun, which, as I found out later in the evening, was strong enough to give me that unmistakable red face.

The actual road was dull at places (same identical housing from the late 70s here and there), but the closer our destination the better the views became: a flat land, patchy with agricultural fields and wildflower meadows full of the usual cow parsley and dandelions, looking strikingly lovely. There was an old windmill on the horizon, too.

Fulbourn itself seemed prosperous enough to have listed buildings with thatched roofs at every cul-de-sac, and the front gardens were full of lilacs, wild roses and very first peonies: it was evident that the residents were competing with each other on whose terrace looked better. I have no idea, as they all were beautiful.

One simply cannot get tired of pomegranate-shaped little vases, I guess:

Burwish Manor: a long-ish walk (a few photos)

 And a few photos to illustrate the previous post:

Burwish Manor: a long-ish walk (a brief recap)

The weather was somewhat challenging today, but it didn’t affect our plans for the day: to visit Burwash Manor in Barton, which is about 4/4,5 miles south-west from Cambridge (centre) via Grantchester.

Boy oh boy, is Cambridgeshire buzzing with bloom! Despite a chilly spell (temperatures dropped from feverishly high +26 to more or less normal +15), everything is blossoming and fragrant—lilacs, wisteria, cherry flowers, rhododendrons, etc, etc, etc.

Burwash Manor is as traditional as one could imagine for spending desperately middle class leisure time—ridiculously overpriced sourdoughs and fancy butters, cheeses and chutneys, biscuits, locally sourced honey, chocolates and jams. Their cafe is heavenly, and the walk back was pleasant and soothing. 14 km — checked!

it took me literally 13 years to finally reframe these precious (to me) artworks from my past. Quite happy with the result: