What's Cooking

i was in the comp lab till late yesterday doing my maths lesson plan. it was like writing a script. i find the analogy between theatre and teaching increasingly strong. the lesson plan is a script, the teacher requires comic timing, showmanship, emphasised pauses at the right time, just as a star actor.

anyways, so i was there doing my lesson plan. but i got too tired and started reading X's blog. X had this post about cooking. as i read that post, for some reasons, i got transported back to Bristol, to my first year, in the Powell lecture room, trying to survive the drudgery of the lesson. all the time, i think of what i can cook for dinner. it got me through the day.

i looked forward to cooking dinner in my first year. it was... therapeutic. the rythmic chopping of garlic, the symphony of sizzling woks and bubbling pots, the mixture of different fragrances wafting across the corridor.

food brought people together in bristol (as i am sure i must have in many other places). first year was up on the fifth floor. second year was for faculty mates, 10 at a time (though usually the same group of 10 people). third year was for my 'granddaughters' and BOng.

that flashback brought back a deluge of memories, of emotions attached with the memories, good ones, bad ones, beautiful ones, painful ones, silly ones, funny ones.

i don't cook anymore.