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Savannah Reynolds
of
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(excerpt from a letter from Dr. Elizabeth Eden, Dean of
Queen's College, Oxford, to Dr. Nancy Peeples, Professor of Economics)
...and the upshot was we discovered the silly girl had been hiding enough provisions to feed half the coll for a fortnight, in her closet. As Jackson told me later in the Porter's lodge, "Those mice probably thought they'd died and gone to heaven when they got in that room." Small comfort, all that rodent joy, to the rest of her dorm who thought the blight of Hamlein had been visited on their (relatively) blameless lives. And now the summer term is upon us, plenty of punts on the river and picnics in the meadows. The weather has been so damp, it reminds me of the summer Reynolds was sent back from Africa and promptly caught a most convenient pneumonia that forced her to take to her bed for three weeks. I remember the phone calls that heralded her return, under less than glorious arches of celebration. First, Dr. S., gibbering and talking of incitement to riot, smart young ladies who could learn a thing or two outside the classroom and at least two recitals (as is his wont) of his academic credentials, professional society memberships and published works. Then, that young man from Holland, the one that went on to do that marvelous work in the Balkans, till the bombing in Bosnia sent him back to cataloging the basements at the Hague, called to say he thought she was "righteous" and should be arriving in two days. And, of course, you were there when they called from SAS to announce she was in hospital and could we contact the family? Poor thing carried home amoebae of the most unpleasant sort and then stupidly went out golfing in the rain and spent the rest of the term reading Agatha Christie and drinking tea with the students who visited her in her rooms. I received a note from her, or rather, eMail, I should say, the other day. Apparently the heat and sun have not only brought on a full recovery, but she sounded quite enthusiastic about her life in the Caribbean. She reports that in addition to her teaching load, she has done some investigation of the native Carib culture. She hasn't lost her intensity, apparently, but she did mention that the social circle and community events there absorb far more of her time than they ever did here. You recall her last student year, when the Bursar found her sleeping in the library night after night, and her wardrobe seemed to consist of (albeit) clean but mismatched apparel chosen at random? Well, my dear, she seems to have taken on a more sophisticated approach to the external. She mentioned something about dashing to catch a 'merchant' as she abruptly (she was ever an abrupt child!) ended her transmission. Thank goodness we persuaded her to take that post at the University out there. When he returned from the dig, Dr. S. called twice to tell me how unprofessional, unbecoming, and (can you believe he dared!) unwomanly Savannah had been. It only verified my suspicion that in her tactless way she had hit the nail on the head and accurately predicted the disaster that eventually was visited on his articles about the expedition. Of course, that only galled him more, but with her in the Caribbean, he has found other fish to fry and plenty of more docile recent doctorates to bully and intimidate. It makes me almost wish I could have witnessed the scenes between them, he redfaced and incoherent and she redheaded and fast-talking in that so American way. I'm sure that with substitution of pith helmets and khaki for her usual cap and gown, it resembled the row she had with that awful undergrad who ended up being sent down for plagiarism (and who apparently had a sideline in petty theft as that rash of 'missing' articles came to an end with her midnight departure.) You remember you had her in one of your lectures, the one that dressed like Bond Street, but, as Reynolds pointed out, never had time to polish her expensive shoes. Speaking of clothing, Professor A. and young Miss Washington have both been asked to 'stand up' for Miss Barret at her impending nuptials. I understand the bride has chosen a most repellent shade of puce for her party -- no doubt she will appear all the more to the advantage in her moment of glory. We shall have to ask her to tea in the Faculty Common during the next Gaudy, of course. I understand the groom has done quite well in the markets this year. (the letter goes on to a discussion of the finer points of this year's battle for alumni contributions) |
| © 2000 aprilgreen |
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