The Wheat from the Chavs

Allow me to write an Ode to the Cream Tea:

Oh Cream Tea!
First tasted at the
Catholic Chaplaincy!

If Jesus’ last supper
Could have been you-

“take, eat, this scone is my body-
Broken for you and for forgiveness of sins.
Whenever you cover it with cream and jam
Do this in remembrance of me”

“drink this, all of you, this tea
Is the blood of the New Covenant.
Whenever you drink this, do it
In remembrance of me”

- then Judas totally wouldn’t’ve
Been able to betray anyone.
Cause he'd be too busy stuffing his face.


Okay, so it’s not really a poem of any kind. And hopefully its not blasphemous. Not really at all. I think Jesus might’ve quite liked Cream Teas. Though maybe not that much.

A Cream Tea: a tea party, usually around 4 o’clock, with assorted biscuity things but mainly revolving around scones, which are broken open and have jam and clotted cream spread on them. There is some heated debate amongst the British about whether you put the jam on first and the cream on second, which one goes on top of what, whether either jam or cream is necessary, and also whether it is pronounced “scones” with a long o or “skahns.”

I had my first, and second, cream tea at the Catholic chaplaincy on campus - it took an expedition to get there, since the Catholic chaplaincy is easily confused with the Anglican chaplaincy, which is towards the center of the Stretham Campus. You have to go down a hill aptly named "Cardiac Hill" to get there. Then you have to go up Cardiac Hill to get back. The Catholic chaplaincy is basically on the other side of campus from where I live, past any sort of academic building and into a residential area - there’s litereally a fence where the University ends that you have to cross - and even then it’s hard to spot. So much for the state of Catholicism at Exeter…

There is, however, a Cathedral in town that is high gothic, has people from the middle ages buried under it, and functions as the seat of a Bishop (that’s the difference between a Cathedral and an Abbey: Cathedrals have Bishops that live there). But it also holds Jazz Mass on Sunday afternoons. Some time on Sunday at least.

The Cathedral green is the town park, and it would be much more beautiful if it weren’t utterly covered in litter. Another thing about the English, at least those in Exeter: they have no idea how not to litter. Obviously Captain Planet never really made it big over here. Maybe if he was called “Sir Globe, the Hero Who Slays Pollution” with his “Earthy Squires” hailing from different countries in the UK then MAYBE the message would’ve been spread. As it is, the Planeteers remain an ineffective power in England.

J.K. Rowling also attended Exeter, so much of the University’s environment is said to have inspired her, and same goes with the town. I’ve actually walked down the alley that Diagon Alley is based on. It’s right nearby a Tesco’s and the only gay club in Exeter is at the other end. That said, I’m still looking for the brick to press so I can get to Olivander’s.

Down another alley is The Ship Inn, which literally has a sign on the side with quotation from the journal of Sir Francis Drake saying that apart from his own ship, he preferred most to drink at The Ship Inn in Exeter. And they have Karaoke now, though apparently it’s not very good.

Pubs here also seem to be, like Mancuso Antiques - an old antique shop I used to work in that is really an old church complete with graveyard - made out of old existing buildings that have gone under. George’s Meeting House, for instance, is a pub that we found on our first night here, and it’s an old chuch too. Stained glass windows, pulpit, amazing woodwork, and bar.

Speaking of pubs, one thing that I’ve been doing extensive research on in England is alcohol. Well, not really extensive. More like EXPENSIVE. OH SNAP. BURN. This is one of those, “let’s all laugh at Griffin’s naiveté for kicks” moments. But first a tragic interlude:

This summer I had an ear infection, but not a bacterial one, a viral one that dislodged a tiny bone in my ear so that whenever I woke up the room would spin and basically I’d have to throw up. The bone’s back in place now that the virus is gone, but not only am I still sensitive to dizziness (if I sit up too fast I get dizzy much easier than before), but I’m also gunshy about dizziness (“oh no, not this again” sort of a thing). According to wikipedia, my ear should be fine and the sensitivity to dizziness will go away eventually, but for now my experiments with drinks have been very limited, as even one will leave me waking up a little woozy, which is a place I really don’t want to be.

Anyway, so here’re my results from my drinking experiences so far:

Beer 1.0: Blegh.
Hard Cider 1.0: Blegh again.
Guinness 1.0: Mmm. Until you get past the creamy part. More data required.
Gin and Tonic 1.0: MMM.
Gin and Tonic 2.0: This is now my fall-back drink.
Red Wine 1.0: I like it more as vinegar.
White Wine 1.0: Well I can drink it.
White Wine 2.0: Good for cooking. With everything.
Hard Cider 2.0, a different brand: Mmmmm. Now what was the name of it…
Bailey’s 1.0: Cough syrup and cream much?

While we’re on research, here is a list of things that I have not been able to find in England:

Grape Jelly
Chicken Broth
Stick Deodorant (but I knew about this one beforehand)

I know it seems small but it will keep growing. “Shaving Cream” was on there until recently, when I found it and shaved. THANK HEAVEN. My beard was getting out of control, as you’ll see in the face book photos of this early era.

Subways, like the sandwich store, here also don’t use red wine vinegar, but balsamic vinegar. That was shocking the first time I tried it (yes, I ate at a Subway in England. Twice. So sue me. It’s not like there’s much English cuisine I should be trying anyway apart from Indian Food.). Coca-Cola has a little sign on it that says “GB,” meaning “Great Britain.” Made in the UK sort of thing. Except GB Coke tastes really watered down, so it tastes like Pepsi. And Pepsi tastes even worse!

Pasties, on the other hand, are amazing. Not the little things you stick on your nipples to expose the rest of your breast, oh no, these are meat and gravy creations served inside a bread pocket, like what a medieval blacksmith might’ve thought a hot-pocket was supposed to look like. Mmm. Pasties.

On a non-sensual note, Church here is very beautiful, maybe more so than home - Exeter has a very prestigious choir program and so they run it out of the Anglican church on campus. Hymns are much more beautiful too, I’ll see if I can find any sound files somewhere to post … there’s been one per service that I’ve taken note of to seek out on a later date.

Also on a spiritual note, I’ve often been worried about England as a bastion of overwhelming secularism - that’s sort of the impression I got of Europe as a whole. But that doesn’t seem to be true. It’s tough in America, there’s no sense of anything really permanent about religion, it seems. Most of the main history of Christianity: the reformation, Catholicism/Orthodoxy, the lives of the early church fathers, JESUS, THE OLD TESTAMENT, all of it happened across the Atlantic. And, as far as America goes, the founding fathers were certainly all for civic religion, it seems, and - coming from a public school - the culture is very much about keeping religion private and to yourself, and someone other than God help you should you chose to make it public. But maybe that’s just a beef with public schools and not the culture as a whole. In any case, it is not so in England. Or at least it has not seemed so in my travels. I’m not saying it’s some sort of faithful person’s paradise, it isn’t, but I mean there’s a CATHEDRAL in the center of town, and Exeter really isn‘t even that big. At the University you study THEOLOGY whereas at Kenyon you major in Religious Studies. I have yet to think that the culture disrespects me as a Christian here. I’ve thought that a lot in America.

For those of you who may have never talked faith or philosophy with me, this paragraph may seem iffy, but then by all means come talk faith and philosophy with me. For those who have, I’m thinking Austin Bookheimer here, that paragraph will seem like more of the same.

England is a little dirtier, a little more rustic at times, though. Everything is designed to use less, low flow toilets, outlets that have a switch on them that turn the whole outlet off (Al Gore wants us to unplug our appliances to save electricity. The English are one step ahead of him with these switches), cars are smaller, roads are smaller, walking is better, etc. etc. etc.

And living with international students has had its ups and downs as well. While a bunch of Kenyon-Exeter students were trying to cook a meal for ourselves, a French girl remarked to us, “it is funny, you are all American. I expected you to be cooking hamburgers and French fries.” It still irks me. And she’s actually an amazingly nice person who helped make us crepes at one point, but that one little comment still bugs me.

English people doing an American accent is also an interesting experience. It mostly has to do with getting really nasal and saying the letter “a.” The word “awesome” is stereotypically American. In England they use “brilliant” and say “cheers” whenever you do something nice or leave a room. “Cheers” has wrapped “goodbye,” “thank you,” “peace,” “have a nice day,” and “this signals the end of a conversation” into one word.

If you ever want to talk to an Englishman, or Englishwoman - Englishperson - start talking about accents. They love it. Except the pronunciation of the word “tomato.” (let’s call the whole thing off…) They’ll kill you for that one. I’ve never tried it myself, but I’ve heard about it.

England is also home to an entirely unique phenomenon known as “chavs.” The American equivalent to a chav might be something like a “wigger” but really they’re two separate entities. Chavs have been eloquently described by Avery Macleod, with a kid’s honesty, as “gangsters without ambition.” They rove around the streets wearing hoodies and baggy clothes, usually white and black, and sort of just cause trouble. They seem like a benign little flavor to the English countryside but they’re actually a problem. A group of Kenyon-Exeter students was jumped by them at night in the City Center. Thanks to Closed-Circuit TV the cops were there in seconds and arrests were made.

Exeter is a peaceful place though. The policemen, as an example, don’t carry guns, only a baton. Despite minor chav-related issues it doesn’t seem like that much of a crime zone.

There are those times, though, when you’re walking home late at night and you pass by an alleyway, barely lit, that would make the walk much easier. You tell yourself it's dangerous, but it seems so tempting. And you think to yourself:

These woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

At least I think that to myself. But I’m lame.