5.15pm on day 5,115 and it’s the start of the 15th year of the blog. All of which is numerologically pleasing but has nothing to do with the shot, and the shot has nothing to do with my birthday as such. As the stormtrooper helmet was there, it got worn by Mark, at least for a short time. Tony looks on in his usual measured fashion.
I knew in advance that today’s shot would be taken at home in Hebden Bridge, meaning it would become the 2,000th HB shot to feature on here. Knowing also that not a great deal was going to happen on the day I thought I might as well make #HB2000 as typical as possible. Hi to Johnny and Mary therefore, who I see often enough in this spot, particularly in the summer. (In the winter we would be twenty yards to the right, and inside….)
It’s nice when my students can still impress me, and, currently, Keela’s dissertation project is certainly doing that — although I can’t tell you what it is, not for any sinister reasons but just because it’s not finished yet and not my business to tell you. But, yes, it involves virtual reality, she doesn’t wear a rig on a regular basis. I do not believe my office noticeboard has featured before so there you go, a chance to check out the randomly accumulated display of items upon it for the first, and who knows, perhaps the last time.
Pud (a.k.a. Sean) is definitely the local wizard with this machine. I mean, I try — others try — but Pud wins. Usually. Kind of like Manchester City, maybe not always, but quite a lot.
This afternoon something about the look of Geri on the other side of the pub made me think ‘white witch’ — which (witch?) is of course a compliment, white witches are the good guys. It was mostly the hair, I think.
The week ends where quite a few of them do. Neither Steve nor Dex look particularly enthused by the prospect, but the weekend remains young.
Now I’m at home, the risk is run of having nothing particularly interesting or different to photograph — and that was certainly the case today. With apologies to my friends gathered around the fire for the usual Friday evening transition, who are of course interesting (most of the time) but maybe not all that different, at least, not to me.
My Monday afternoons as a student continue, though the next one isn’t going to be until February. It crossed my mind today that we are being taught in much the same way as we would have been a thousand years ago, had we been doing much the same in an abbey somewhere. Look at examples of other people’s writing, be told about some idiosyncracies and abbreviations, and then do our best to reproduce it all. We don’t get handed a quill pen and some parchment, which is a shame, but then again these were valuable items in medieval times and perhaps not to be wasted on students just starting out. It does work if one merely wants to learn to write, or rather to copy: but although I admit my Latin is getting a bit better, there is no interpretation here. What does any of this text actually mean, not just in translation, but really mean for anyone’s life? Beats me. But for that, I guess we would have taken different classes.
Not only did I not leave the house today but I barely left this room. From 9am – 4pm at least my study, and (more specifically) the laptop within it, was the nerve centre of an international network of researchers, contributions from (at least) the UK, USA, South Africa, France, the Netherlands and — most importantly and relevantly — St Helena. Here, the Chief Minister of the latter territory, Julie Thomas, makes her introductions to the day. I have spent quite a bit of time and effort on getting this 2-day event organised and I am very satisfied that it all worked out. As far as we can ascertain this is/was the first online conference specifically devoted to the little island on which I have recently spent plenty of time.
I have met Julie by the way. If all Chief or Prime Ministers or Presidents were like her the world would probably be a better place.
You might not be able to tell this from the photos posted but, work-wise, it’s been a very busy week. Time to let off some steam on the Friday evening. Of course, because we are all middle-aged these days, these high jinks amounted to little more than Stan surreptitiously stickering the back of Mark’s hat, but that is about our level these days.
Being 42 