It may sound cliché but the weather was cold, dark, and there was a hard driving rain that never seemed to stop. That was the night we left Atlanta. Oxford has been sunny and delightful.
We arrived on a Monday afternoon with all of our most cherished possessions, which according to Delta weighed 140 total pounds and that includes a few glass pieces. We are fortunate to have seven days of temporary housing at the posh Oxford University Club, overlooking the cricket field, while we find long-term housing. Impressive as our temporary accommodations are, we realized they do not satisfy our basic needs. We need a permanent address to get through the maze of English banking to bring us into the 21st century and get us a mobile phone. After four days, all our paperwork was in order to allow us to begin looking at lets.
On a bright English morning, Goldilocks and I left the club, a calendar full of apartment showings, our hearts full of optimism. “The first house is way too dark”, said Goldilocks. “But Goldi, I said, “it has three bedrooms, one bath, and two working fireplaces. The building is historic and has two a plaques to prove it.” William Morris lived there in the 1800s and built bikes on the ground floor. Perhaps Mr. Morris was a blind shut-in because Goldilocks was right. The house was rather dark and had no awning over the outside door. Anyone arriving in the English rain would surely get a soaking. I had to agree with Goldilocks and reluctantly waived goodbye to the working fireplaces and pushed on.
Goldilocks and I found a second house near South Park. This one was more modern and gleamed in the sunlight. Built in the last 5 years, it had heated floors, skylights, and motion sensor lighting. “The rooms are too small”, cried Goldilocks. “But each room is filled with giant windows all facing a Boy Scout camp” I sang in return. Yet neither of us wanted to peer at young boys every night and we had to cross this one off our list too.
Along came the third house and knowing this tale by heart, we were sure this one would be just right. Goldi and I found the entrance covered and each room bright, large, and filled with architectural features we both loved. The windows faced gardens alive with fruit trees. “Goldi”, I chirped, “what do you say?”. Then Goldilocks pointed to the small room located outside the house, which contained the toilet. No, we will not be living in the house with the toilet located outside the house. We are still looking for housing that would be just right.
I’m not comfortable using the term toilet when I am looking for some relief, the way the English do. It sounds crass to me. I was taught to say bathroom. I understand why they don’t say bathroom for the half bath. The bathroom is where you bathe and the toilet is where you, um, use the toilet. I was told the English used the term water closet or WC, but that seems to be left to 1950’s movies, as no one has said it since I’ve been here. But must I explain my behavior to a stranger when I’m looking for a little private space? There must be a way to say a little classier? This has been troubling me. Today in a café, I was looking lost and a man asked, “Are you looking for the ladies?” Brilliant! I will no longer need to look for a toilet. Now, I can spend my time here looking for the ladies.
To Let or Toilet?
Vocabulary lesson:
To Let = To rent. “Did you want the letting agent to show you the flat in the back, then?”
Toilet= The room that contains the facilities. “Do you want the toilet?
