Three points of departure
Today has had three themes or stories I could tell you about. They seem pretty disparate on first view but perhaps there is a connection amongst them all somewhere.
Firstly, well - not chronologically firstly, but most clearly on the schedule was graduation day for last semester's finishing humanities students at the university. So there I was too, for the third year running now, sat in the audience at the Barbican while countless numbers of graduands walked the strip of red carpet to receive their handshake from the Board of Govener's representative. Of course I clapped extra loud when the creative writing people went up. Took some silly photos afterwards too, of mortar boards being tossed in the air and so on. Some rites of passage habits die hard. There was an interesting sort of detachment in seeing the many unknown-to-me people collecting their 'honour' - not just in observing the occasional notable high heels (women) and silly walks (mostly the men), but also observing young people as a whole going through this ritual of achievement and embarkation on the search for a career, or at any rate the next stage in life.
One woman graduand walked across the stage in her turn with her tiny baby held asleep in her arms. I'd never seen that before. Perhaps some sort of symbol for the next stage, the new stage, when one is both vulnerable and also full of possibilities.
I had lunch with a few colleagues afterwards in a pub by Smithfields Market, which was pleasant. We don't see each other for a proper chat much of the time, strange though it may seem. Academics have yet to embrace open-plan office set ups. When you teach, you teach alone. But I was the earliest to leave due to the second major event of today and this one neither planned nor pleasant. Having sustained what looked like quite a nasty cut on his forelimb yesterday, little Donner was limping and licking his wound this morning badly enough for us to rush him to the vets - the poor kitten had to stay there for sutures under anaesthetic while they checked him out for serious damage before stitching him together. He's back now - we picked him up in the afternoon, and very confused he is, with a plastic 'buster' collar on and firm instructions to lead a quiet life for the next couple of weeks. It does feel awful to know he doesn't really understand what's happening. The poor little boy - he curled up on my pillow last night for some comfort and hopefully will be in less pain tonight.
The third thing? Well a rather rapid re acquaintance with Dylan Thomas, due to impending seminar duties. Still an enigmatic character, after the legend-in-his-own-lifetime fame he had achieved. I've found an old essay by David Daiches published in 1954, a year after Thomas' much discussed death. Daiches identifies him as a nature mystic, sensing the underlying connection between all things and a symbolic Christ: separated from individual consciousness by a 'Wall thin as a wren's bone'. Much more I could list but I'm saving it for the class. But life crosses species and generations with its underlying fragility and insistence, and perhaps today is mainly a reminder of that.
Firstly, well - not chronologically firstly, but most clearly on the schedule was graduation day for last semester's finishing humanities students at the university. So there I was too, for the third year running now, sat in the audience at the Barbican while countless numbers of graduands walked the strip of red carpet to receive their handshake from the Board of Govener's representative. Of course I clapped extra loud when the creative writing people went up. Took some silly photos afterwards too, of mortar boards being tossed in the air and so on. Some rites of passage habits die hard. There was an interesting sort of detachment in seeing the many unknown-to-me people collecting their 'honour' - not just in observing the occasional notable high heels (women) and silly walks (mostly the men), but also observing young people as a whole going through this ritual of achievement and embarkation on the search for a career, or at any rate the next stage in life.
One woman graduand walked across the stage in her turn with her tiny baby held asleep in her arms. I'd never seen that before. Perhaps some sort of symbol for the next stage, the new stage, when one is both vulnerable and also full of possibilities.
I had lunch with a few colleagues afterwards in a pub by Smithfields Market, which was pleasant. We don't see each other for a proper chat much of the time, strange though it may seem. Academics have yet to embrace open-plan office set ups. When you teach, you teach alone. But I was the earliest to leave due to the second major event of today and this one neither planned nor pleasant. Having sustained what looked like quite a nasty cut on his forelimb yesterday, little Donner was limping and licking his wound this morning badly enough for us to rush him to the vets - the poor kitten had to stay there for sutures under anaesthetic while they checked him out for serious damage before stitching him together. He's back now - we picked him up in the afternoon, and very confused he is, with a plastic 'buster' collar on and firm instructions to lead a quiet life for the next couple of weeks. It does feel awful to know he doesn't really understand what's happening. The poor little boy - he curled up on my pillow last night for some comfort and hopefully will be in less pain tonight.
The third thing? Well a rather rapid re acquaintance with Dylan Thomas, due to impending seminar duties. Still an enigmatic character, after the legend-in-his-own-lifetime fame he had achieved. I've found an old essay by David Daiches published in 1954, a year after Thomas' much discussed death. Daiches identifies him as a nature mystic, sensing the underlying connection between all things and a symbolic Christ: separated from individual consciousness by a 'Wall thin as a wren's bone'. Much more I could list but I'm saving it for the class. But life crosses species and generations with its underlying fragility and insistence, and perhaps today is mainly a reminder of that.
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