JB: I went to the dining hall... Hutchinson, I think it was called... and suddenly I didn't know if I was back at uni as an undergraduate, trying to lie through my teeth that no, the reason my paper is late is NOT because I was getting drunk in London over the weekend while trying to cozen my ex-girlfriend back into my arms but because my uncle had a brain biopsy and I had to be there. I almost could hear Harry yelling that they were going to the Undercroft, thought that I must be at the informal rather than the formal because I wasn't in a jacket. Then I realised that I was in America, not Oxford. And that this is not Christ Church and I don't have to go back and write the paper in my room.
M: That would be because that dining hall is modeled after the dining hall in Christ Church.
JB: Oh my goodness! Christ Church is taking over the world!
M: You wish. I wonder what it would have been like to be a student there.
JB: It's no different from any other university, apart from all the pomp and the fluff they dress you with. Believe me when I say this: you do NOT want to take your end-of-year exams in that ridiculous gown. I nearly fell asleep my final year. You'd have your occasional stars - like Stephen Hawking, for instance - but otherwise half the students are drunk. Or too busy trying to evade the scientific way of creating life out of nothing and going the more orthodox way instead.
M: About Stephen Hawking, I have something interesting to tell you.
JB: This better be good, because I am on tenterhooks.
M: Did you know that Stephen Hawking is quite a ladies' man?
JB: No, I did not! How on earth can he?! He has muscular dystrophy! He can't even speak!
M: JB, darling, there are no muscles where it counts in what he does to be a ladies' man.
JB: Oh good lord...
But seriously... I know it's a s grandiose building and everything, but mimicking it thrice is getting a bit boring.
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