Being Posh

My newest development here in the Oxfordian world is becoming a member of the elite Oxford Union (and thus, becoming rather elite myself). Belonging to the Union is not unlike going to a country club- inside there's a special member's bar, library, club, etc. Yesterday, Claire and I decided to start making good on our investment (which was bloody expensive) and went there for lunch. I ate soup. It was good soup. In fact, I've been eating a lot of soup lately. There's something about England that makes one want to eat soup. I think something like 25 Prime Ministers were and still are (full term undergraduates buy member ship for life) members of the union. That's pretty posh. I wonder if they ate soup while they were there.

On Wednesday all the visiting students were invited for drinks and canapés in the master's lodgings. I thought that Bacow's house was the most beautiful on campus home ever, but Bacow doesn't have anything compared to Giles Henderson. We had to duck under a Hobbit-esque gate to enter a wonderful rose vine filled garden with a charming white table and chair set set to the side. Lovely, right? Believe me, I know it. And inside I was able to drink pineapple juice to my heart's content while playing with the master's two yellow retrievers, Gracie and Ellie, in a dark wooden beamed living room with a large hearth and grand piano that we were invited to play. We really get the special treatment here. Lovin' the posh.