sweet afton's nursery

mini melt's nursery

Varsity Football Match 2014

At 11 weeks pregnant I played my last football (soccer) match (game) of the season against Oxford. We were up 2-0 at half, and my coach said I had 10 more minutes on the pitch (field) before I was coming off in the second half. At the 10-minute mark I scored a goal (3-0) and promptly proceeded to walk off the pitch straight to the sideline. It was an epic last moment of play with my amazing team. We won 4-0, and finally gave way to taunting the other team by singing "Cambridge till I die" (a lovely little ditty, much more tame than other Varsity songs). During the formal dinner I announced to the team that there was going to be a little light blue (not as in a boy, but as in a mini Cambridge baby; Oxford as known as the blues, and Cambridge are the light blues). Here are the pics for a reenactment of the most joyous moment of my football/soccer career:

Teammate: Lizzie Robinshaw

Teammate: Clare Longden

Coach: Adam Greenfield

Me and Sarah Pearce, hands raised, leading "Cambridge till I die"

Varsity Football Match (translation: the annual Cambridge versus Oxford soccer game)

Adam (our coach) sprays us with champaign

Sweet victory. Essentially we beat Oxford 1-0 in the freezing snow. Thanks to Drew, Jason Gallagher, Tina and Sophie Tong, Sarah and Joel Dixon, and Steve Walton for coming to support!

a few days in paris in december

the first night after a long dinner (the way it's supposed to be in paris) we walked to the Tour d'Eiffel

at Cafe de Flore I had famous drinking chocolate and (French) onion soup

the obelisk

on our last day we crossed the river & ate a baguette, cheese, olives, & cured meats next to the Arc de Triomphe

Basically what we will remember about paris is beauty and food. Every morning began with a cafe noisette and an almond croissant, or beignets for Drew. Lunch usually consisted of a Chevre au Chaud (hot goat cheese) salad for me and a Croque monsieur sandwich for Drew. At night we would eat on candlelit patios with all the warmth and laughter one could ever ask for, while the rain drizzled outside. On the last night, for dinner I had a delicious duck confit. I was also struck by the simple beauty of the people: silk shirts, high heels, and lipstick. Parisians are the masters of effortless beauty. We spent one afternoon at the Musee d'orsay (an amazing museum just across from the Louvre). And from our tiny hotel room we could see the tip of the sparkling Eiffel Tower each night.

Flat 10: Part 2 - Our lovely little bedroom

Street side widows

Brit's closet; Drew's is in the door on the right

Our American double-sized bed

Cozy and quaint, simple and sweet. 

Bikes and Biscuits or Cycles and Scones

Saturday morning we cycled out to Grantchester to The Orchard, a famous place for tea and delicious scones. It's also famous because in the early 1900's the "Grantchester group" used to meet there (made up of E. M. Foster, Rupert Brooke, Virginia Woolf, Bertrand Russell, Augustus John, Maynard Keynes, and Ludwig Wittgenstein). The main building is cottage like, surrounded by French doors. The lawn is dotted with lawn chairs where people can be found enjoying scones, sleep, dogs, and conversation.

(Drew's reflection): Our first encounter with British scones came with specific instructions from one of our British friends here at Tyndale, Ruth Norris, with the help of Nicki Wilks. We were told that there was a particular way in which the scone was to be eaten, and if one deviates from said way, then one has not experienced true British scones. Needless to say, I had lost my way. First of all, I had eaten one scone with only jelly, which I soon found out was quite the abomination (if you'll allow me such language) to our new British friend. She quickly alerted me to the presence of nearby double cream (for which we Americans have no counterpart). The jelly goes on the scone first, followed by a heaping portion of double cream; essentially, one should not be able to see the jelly underneath the cream. These instructions changed my life (hyperbolically speaking), and since then I have had several gorgeous (the Brits call food 'gorgeous', it basically means 'really delicious') scones including the one below with raspberry preserves and clotted cream (a step up from double cream, more posh, and again no American counterpart). I thanked my British friend over and over, for she had provided not only a window into British eating and culture, but a reason to love this old, rainy country. 

Hope this makes you proud Ruth!

After enjoying tea and delicious scones we read for a few hours before cycling back home for a lunch of soup and warm baguettes. The food has certainly made the transition easier.

Drew's bike

Brit's bike

Drew found a great commuter bike for me on Gumtree (the UK's craigslist if you will). Essentially a commuter bike is the way to go if you happen to be a slightly vertically challenged person, such as myself, without submitting yourself to the mockery that comes with riding a children's bike. On to the cool factor, the bike collapses down so that one can carry it inside or on a train, etc. So... the moral of the story is I own an awesome second-hand bike. Drew got his bike from our lovely neighbor, Joel Dixon.