Well good morning! Yesterdaynight I passed out somewhere between 8 and 9 in the evening only to wake up at 1 to close my window and then to sleep again until my alarm clock went off at 7:20. I'm glad it worked out that way, I feel pretty good now, awake and all, at 8:00 in bloody morning! I decided however not to use my newly found energy to throw myself at Claude Lévi-Strauss, but first to adress whatever reader may have stumbled upon this and to full-fill my now long-neglected duty of keeping a field diary .. How nice is that?

First some anthropological observations on the usage of mobiles in these countries: I can deduct from the reactions and behaviour of the natives surrounding me (of all nationalities, remember we studying a very ethnically diverse population here) that my decision to remain a-mobile is not so much disaproved of, but rather considered odd / silly / stupid. People assume one to have a mobile these days, and the fact that I also cannot produce a landline rather complicates matters. But I shall struggle on! I am not back-ward! Ik ben de nieuwe mens! E-mail is the way! I am the cyberhuman! Ahem, völs te völle uutrooptèkens, Mulder.

My parents were here last weekend, as I mentioned before. They had been cycling on Wight for a week before coming to London, and it was really nice to have them around for a bit. We didn't really do much spectacular; in the morning I studied and they walked around town on their own (e.g. to Shakespeare's 'Globe') and in the afternoon we walked around some more, to Soho, Covent garden and Trafalgar Square (see Saturday entry) and Sunday to Regent's Park, where - how British - a (grand-)father was explaining to his three yeard old (grand-)daughter where rain comes from. The explanation was scientifically very sound. Oh, and we had afternoon tea with scones, clotted cream and jam every day.

Meantime it's raining again on my private grave-yard. If I weren't such an amobile, (apparently) anti-electronic-gadget freak, I would have a digital camera and post you a little movie, filmed from my very own window, on the life of the grey squirrels in St. Andrew's Garden, who store their winter nuts in the crooks and crannies of open graves. I kid you not. Oh, talking about winter, last saturday's Independent proclaimed next winter would be the severest in 10 years! I am looking forward to it...