After last week’s giddiness over what I was going to do with myself over my spring break, I’ve been hit with a couple shots of reality in the last two days.

The first thing to shake me out of my globetrotter-wannabe stupor was school. I have to be reminded from time to time that I’m not just going to class as penance for the opportunity to do some traveling.

I’m actually going to school over here and have some course work I need to do.

For a good part of each term, I find myself wondering why all my classes at home aren’t like the ones I’m in over here. I’ve got no daily or weekly assignments to complete and no quizzes or tests to worry about. Just a spot of reading here and there, and I’m set. It’s when the end of the term comes into view that I realize it’s not as easy as all that. For the next two weeks, all I have lined up are sleepless nights in front of a computer monitor.

Wait, that’s almost every night, anyway. I guess this time it’ll be a word processor illuminating my face rather than a game.

The second lame thing about right now is meningitis. I don’t have it, at least I don’t think I do. My flatmate’s friend’s son might though, and Maria (my flatmate) was baby-sitting him last week.

We’re all awaiting the results of his tests to see if we need to get looked at, too. Getting sick gives me the creeps.

I ran a couple searches online so I could see what I should be looking for and what I might actually be up against.

I found myself developing psychosomatic manifestations of the symptoms as I read through the list: headaches, stiff neck, drowsiness, joint pain, light aversion, fitting and vomiting. I fortunately didn’t get to the last two. A bit much for my imagination, perhaps.

I’m not even sure what fitting means.

Getting meningitis would suck no matter what the circumstances were, but I would feel especially sorry for myself if I got it here and now. I just hope its a false alarm.

On a more upbeat note, the weather has been uncharacteristically nice for a while now. I haven’t been rained on for nearly a week. For an unprecedented five days, I’ve awoken to blue skies.

Where is the England I’ve grown accustomed to? The four distinct weather fronts over the course of an hour — schizophrenic patterns of rain, sun, gale force winds and calm — have been replaced by a constant “nice” mode for so long it makes me wonder if the person in charge of the weather over here isn’t in some kind of trouble. Or maybe it’s just that spring is coming.

In addition to the enjoyable weather, I’ve recently had another clich‚ regarding England debunked, at least in my mind.

I’ve mentioned before that I do my own cooking; thus, I’ve been mostly shielded from the supposed horror that is local cooking.

Unfortunately, I am becoming quite bored with the three things I know how to make. I’ve decided it’s time to branch out. This is a conclusion most of the people I live with have come to.

This week in Salon magazine there was a piece by an author who spent a few weeks in Southwest England (where I’m at) to do some research for a travel book. She claimed that she was unable to find a good meal anywhere and twice was presented with food so bad that it made her cry. Her solution was to eat at McDonald’s.

Her problem was that she was trying too hard to make England fit the picture she had in her mind and forcing herself to eat at pubs and other such bastions of English culture.

Though it’s taken me a while, I’ve discovered not only that there is a gem of British gastronomy, but also that it comes in the form of the non-traditional cuisine offered in just about any Indian, Chinese, Thai or other such ethnic restaurants.

Reverse colonization has done wonders for the dining scene in this country.

In searching for an exciting new source of food, I didn’t have to go far. The House of Punjab is located just down the road. It’s one of those places where you’re better off pointing or saying a number to get what you ordered.

The menu’s full of things like curries and vindaloos, things I was certain were invented by the creators of Red Dwarf. When I finally started to eat, I couldn’t be sure if it was what I ordered, but it didn’t matter because it was good.

Now if they’d just hurry up and finish that Domino’s they’re building down the block, I’d never have reason to complain about food again …

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Chris Crouch is a sophomore in political science from Rapid City, Ill.