...to a time of little responsibility (though high stress, all the same), and to great conversations in the giant kitchen (debates about the liturgy and psychology's status as a science); to pub crawls and to grape leaves and kebabs in the wee hours of the morning; to a £5 Lebanese spread, with breaded whitefish; to pitchers of White Russian in a converted Anglican church; to wandering lost across the Dover downs, as Shire-like a country I have ever seen; to ruined monasteries, Kenneth Grahame, and the Queen's swans; and, yes, to classes and papers too (at least occasionally). To sleep deprivation and Real World-like drama only possible when twenty Christian college students, all too smart for their own good, stay together in one genteel North Oxford house. It's been a year and 6 months since I left. And though I love my life now, and the wisdom that I've gained,...