"Wow, how do you have such defined opinions about gender sterotypes at the age of six?"

So I've been neglecting this blog in favor of some philosophical rantings and musings on the other one - I hope you forgive quickly. Today's quote is actually me - lame, I know, but I said this to Frances Benfell, (story to come) and she said, "What does that mean?" Awesome. Also, I need to pull the pictures off my camera still, so those are coming, but I knew you wouldn't want to wait any longer for the Jack the Ripper updates.
Point the first: Who knew that Jack only killed five people? (Yeah, I know, one is a lot, but he is so darn famous that I thought it would be more for sure.) And the second: our tour was in no way what I expected. I was waiting for some character from a melodrama to come rushing out of the woodwork in a long black coat and hat, twirling a mustache and cackling. Instead, we were met by a quiet, middle-aged British lady in a parka. She had no special effects, merely a packet of laminated photographs. (Yes, photographs. 1880 is not too early.)
So we followed this lady though a kind of dodgy area of London for two hours. She told us up front that this area is still populated by homeless people, drunks, and prostitutes, just as it was in 1880. Hmm. This was especially poignant when we realized that we were walking past a place where we'd been just a few days ago on a walk.
So we went to all of the places where Jack's victims were found, and saw gruesome pictures of all of them. A couple of the people who tagged along shouldn't have - this was not a tour for everyone. The best part was the tiny dark alley where no one actually died - I think it was just for effect - and listening to all of the theories of our tiny tour guide. ("No one is sure, but I believe it was Mary's kidney, and there are two things that lead me to believe this. First . . .") Add to that a healthy rain shower or two and the incredibly serious tone of voice that tour-lady used, and you have a recipe for total success. It may not have been the "FROM HELL" tour, but it was still fun.
Today was our Groton/Cambridge trip. Groton was once the home of John Winthrop (the most important American most Americans don't know about), and there was pretty much nothing there except the smell of cow manure, but Dr. Holland gave a very stirring lecture about Winthrop's "A Model of Christian Charity," America, and the gospel while we sat in a tiny, empty parrish church.
Cambridge was great, and my experience was totally different this time. We were going to visit a college, but somewhere along the path back from the pay toilets we stumbled upon an incredibly attractive college guy (Jim Halpert, British style) who convinced us to take a guided tour down the River Cam with a professional punter (which has nothing to do with American football, so don't get too excited.) He gave us a student and group discount, so we said, "We will follow you anywhere, attractive British man," and walked down to the river, where we were put into the hands of another good looking Brit punt captain who told us that if we played our cards right we might get to take him home to America with us. Awesome. We didn't get a picture of bizarro Jim, but we got several of Billy the puntman, so those are coming and you can judge for yourselves. Highlight of the tour:
Billy: "When you finish here you need to go and get a pint of ale - it's a Cambridge tradition. Do you have pints in America?"
[All of us look awkwardly at each other.]
Mallory: "Well, secretly I don't drink. "
Erin: "Um, openly I don't drink."
Billy: [moment of stunned silence] "Well, good for you! I wish I'd never discovered alcohol. I'd probably look 15 years younger. I'm only 18, you know." (he wasn't.)
The best part of this exchange was that he'd already told us a story about getting so drunk after watching 24 one night that he actually thought he was in an episode. He baricaded himself in somewhere and started yelling for Jack Bauer. Really.
After punting down the river past the backs of several of the prominent colleges (and getting some actual information, despite what I've given you of what went on), we had just enough time to hit a gift shop (I bought some postcards - cool black and white ones) before heading back to King's College for Evensong. I must say that I love Evensong. King's College has the most beautiful fan vaulting, and the King's College choir is divine - no irony or hyperbole, I promise. If you want more on my views about this, you can read my regular blog for musings. Suffice it to say here that the organ and singing were unbelievably beautiful, and I was touched.
There's not much else to say, except an explanation of today's quote. Mallory, Erin, David (Lake) and I were just sitting in the little grassy strip by Queen's street, and I called Franny Benfell over to talk to her about how her raincoat matched her dress. Mallory (I think) asked her where the hair clip she'd been wearing earlier was, and Dr. Benfell said she'd given it to him. I said something jokingly to Franny about how her daddy probably needed it to hold back his hair, at which point Dr. Benfell definitely put the clip in his hair. I pointed out to my compatriots that this is one of the advantages of study abroad - who gets to see that on campus? Then Franny insisted that her dad stop it, because hair clips are for girls, don't you know, and boys have their hair permanently pulled back (i.e. short.) This is when I delivered my title line: "You've got some pretty defined gender stereotypes for a six year old, don't you?" and Franny looked at me like I was crazy, while everyone else laughed about the fact that I started talking about gender stereotypes to a six year old. What can I say? I like to raise the bar.
Update: Here are some long awaited pictures.

Punting on the cam with Adreanne and Billy

Best picture ever. Unposed.

Punts!

King's College, waiting for evensong

Billy again. Mmm.