Not many students are seen on campus at just after 9am on a Friday, then again, nor am I, all that often. She seems engrossed enough in something, anyway. I hope I managed to keep my class entertained too.
From the colour of one specific bit of Manchester yesterday, to this scene of utter grayness. Or is it greyness with an E? I’ve never been sure. Gra/ey it was today though, for sure. Such a gloomy day .
After three pictures of inanimate objects mimicking live things, here we have a usually live thing — campus — as a more inanimate object. Teaching finished last week, and today there really weren’t many people around. And that’s it for me, too, not just in 2024: there will be no more campus shots on here until early February, if things go according to plan.
In the last of my taught classes last year, it took about three-quarters of an hour (or felt like it did) for all the students to get their shots with teacher that then go onto social media, somewhere. (And, see also 2022’s version of same.). As I am, essentially, a grumpy man, I insisted that this year I would do it on everyone’s behalf. Apologies to those whom I have eclipsed.
There have been very few shots of my 4,858 so far which have been taken using the self-timer, but there have been some: any of the astronomical efforts (e.g. this shot of Jupiter and its moons, of which I’m still quite proud) will have used it. But I’m sure this is the first where I’ve used the timer to take a photo of myself, with or without others, and used it as the daily picture. So there you are, this is what I look like when I’m not taking a photo.
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.
Continuing the theme I raised a couple of days ago regarding the power of hi-vis…. these guys were on the roof outside my office window, Doing Stuff: cleaning the solar panels apparently. Which, OK, I guess need cleaning now and again. I like the mild optical illusion on this one, for all reflections are an optical illusion; the guy on the right is not quite where he seems to be.
Another one of my Palaeography classes in the John Rylands Library. We have moved from Hogwarts (the old reading room) upstairs and into the new seminar room, with tape still on the windows. Checking out the manuscripts themselves is always the best bit, and they need to be ready, and cared for — would that students got to sit on such comfortable-looking cushions.
This is a fairly stock campus shot, but then again it was a fairly stock campus day. At least there are people in it, which is more than has been the case for several other recent photos.
A hidden corner of campus. This shot has no deeper meaning, I just like the textures, of trunk, undergrowth, the wall. Although maybe that stuff on the wall is mould, but then again, you should see our bathroom wall.
Another lecture, only this time I am facing front instead of at the front. For several Mondays over the next few months I will be a student again: the subject, you can see for yourself. ‘Hogwarts’ is, in fact, the Historic Reading Room of the John Rylands Library; a spectacular setting for a class, and somehow appropriate (though this was opened in 1901 and is detinitely not a medieval construction). But by next time I hope they’ve turned the heating on. Mr Rylands himself, or his statue, at least, pokes up behind the screen.
Being 42 