Finished

I handed in the finished product yesterday; a process featuring little or no fanfair. I feel like the university ought to employ some people to clap and toss ribbons and put some flowers in your hair or something when this happens. Neither the binders nor the lady at the Graduate Research Office even bothered to say 'Congratulations', and so for a little while there I felt more like I had crossed some minor administrative task off one of my interminable lists, than like I'd just finished a gruelling four year rite of passage and begun my career as a professional philosopher. (Notwithstanding the impending viva voce of course, but I can't bring myself to worry about that just yet).

Hey, never mind. Laura was ready and willing to bump up the joy, and after a delicious lunch in the sunshine at Thyme Cafe and later a scrumptious dinner with the housemates, I consolidated my feeling that I have finally shed a huge weight off my shoulders and reverted to a nicer, less stressed and inscrutable version of myself.

This is a bittersweet post though, since I think it will be my last on this blog for a long time, or possibly ever. The coming term brings a huge quantity of work, and promises to take away a lot of my leisure time. Until that's over - come January or so - I think I will be too swamped to keep you up to date on me and Laura's news and continuing travels through the mild to moderate peril of academia. So unless the unthinkable happens, and Laura starts posting on here, I must say farewell to you all dear readers, and many kind thanks for patronising our humble blog. Be good to each other.

Drew.

Engagement Complete

I once saw a feature on a television programme about the rationale for giving expensive engagement rings. The presenter suggested the original rationale (way back when) was this: if the man were to break off the engagement, the woman would have some financial compensation for the damage done to her reputation (by his rejection). The presenter rightly remarked that this rationale is now rather archaic. I like to think we live in more enlightened times, when broken engagements, horrible and painful though they may be, don't lead to be people being shunned or treated differently than anyone else.

This naturally raises some questions: isn't the traditional arrangement rather sexist? Not only is the giving of gifts one-sided (getting engaged is nice for BOTH of us right?), there is a presumption that the man is the flaky one, more likely to break off the engagement than the woman. If it is sexist, then why do we keep doing it?

Happily I somehow convinced Laura that we should once again subvert tradition by exchanging gifts of equal value in celebration of our engagement. Of course this is a more expensive course of action, which is why it took until yesterday for us to complete our engagement gift giving.

Yesterday saw the arrival of a beautiful new guitar, which was my preferred way of celebrating our engagement - and something I intend to enjoy for the rest of our life together. I know they won't mean much to many of you, but here are some pictures of what is truly the most wonderful instrument I have ever played...

Actual News

I'm delighted to say I've just been appointed to a one-semester Lecturing post at my soon-to-be alma mater Sheffield. I will be teaching two courses: a 2nd Year course called Descartes & the Empiricists and a brand new first year introduction to critical thinking called Reason & Argument. Hooray for gainful employment, however short lived!

Soundtrack to my Thesis Daze

I've been listening a lot to Patrick Watson lately, an entirely new discovery courtesy of Regnyouth archives, my main source of new music (instructions for newcomers here). His extraordinary, surreal and bizarre music is the ideal soundtrack to the sense of unreality that accompanies being incapable of thinking about anything other than concepts and truth. In that sense, it may be unwise to listen to too much of it. (Imagine Jeff Buckley and Björk had an adult child who was best friends with Martin Grech and whose uncle is Ed Harcourt.) Nevertheless, I'm excited about the slightly more experimental/electronic direction mainstream music seems to be taking in the US - at least if the rise of MuteMath can be considered significant (this discovery courtesy of John Mayer).

Neil's Birthday Weekend

Here are some pictures from this weekend, notable for two things: (1) it was Neil's birthday and (2) Laura and I didn't have to spend several hours driving!

Presents were ready for Neil's arrival in the morning, and we all sat down to a delicious breakfast of croissants, fruit salad and Raven Road Muesli (patent pending).

Penny arrived later in the day - on holiday from Jane's parents. She seemed nonplussed by the fesitivities, along with pretty much everything else.

Neil is 8 - for the 5th time!


The night before was also a culinary wonderland, featuring Jane's most excellent fishcakes...

And of course the essential birthday cake... (Plum upside-down cake in this case).

Neil struggles to blow out eight candles - by my count it took him five attempts...

But he looked very pleased with his lot afterwards...

At least until his medication wore off...

Funny

Enough said...

Caption Competition

Perhaps it's our esoteric sense of humour, but Laura and I found the university's choice of new brand graphics slightly amusing...



Your own suggestions of captions involving the salient notion of firing arrows at people are welcome.

My suggestion:

Sheffield Undergraduates: like a shower of arrows, somewhere becoming rain.

Safe on Dry Land

Many of you have probably heard that much of the North East of England is under water at the moment. If you find this hard to believe (we all do), check out these pictures. The village of Catcliffe, outside Sheffield, was built on a flood plain, so as far as I know it's still under water. The same thing happened there in 2000 apparently (although not quite as bad). The council went ahead and rebuilt the place anyway (what's that kids' song about the wise man building his house upon the rocks?).

It's hard not to assume this is all the result of climate change (in fact, in a trivial sense, it just is climate change). Climate scientists predict that with the rising temperatures on the planet, evaporation will increase and so therefore will precipitation, where atmospheric conditions are right. This means deserts getting drier and places like Britain getting a lot wetter. I'm glad at least to hear many newscasters saying (in that wonderfully passive voice of theirs): "It is expected that this kind of weather situation will become more and more common in future".

When we were in the US I was thoroughly impressed by how much more seriously people seemed to be taking climate change in the wake of Katrina - among other things, like films everyone should see. There is a real sense that at the grass roots level - or at least, at the level of cities and states, rather than higher up - people are genuinely starting to take the idea of climate change seriously, along with the need for us to change our habits en masse. (Granted it's a serious and worrying problem that the administration seems to disagree, but - fingers crossed - that will change.) While in Michigan, Laura and I caught a special on CNN - granted it wasn't exactly on in prime time - about what will probably happen when we run out of oil. I find this idea terrifying, especially since yesterday I gained a niece. What sort of future lies in store for little Eilidh (that's 'Ay-lee' for non-Gaelic speakers) I wonder? It's hard to see anything but violent conflict, famine and general misery on a large scale in the next 50 years - probably within our lifetime. The real pessimists, like George Monbiot seem to think we have only half that time till we hit the point of no return. This in turn makes me wonder - if Laura and I were to have kids, would it be fair on them? Would it be fair on the planet, which is already so grossly overburdened, its resources desperately over-stretched?

In Britian, as with perhaps most things, I think most people still expect the government to do the hard work for us. I'm all for seeing some leadership, but a depressing number of people seem not even to contemplate taking the little steps that might make a difference: switching to low energy lightbulbs, taking plastic bags with them to the shops, never mind reinsulating their houses properly or changing the way they travel round the country (cheap short haul flights are seemingly irresistible in the UK).

This balance of personal vs. national or collective responsibility is a really tough one to strike. How much difference does it really make if Laura and I fly to the US once or twice a year? Is it really reasonable to ask anyone not to see their loved ones for the sake of the world's climate? Isn't the onus therefore on the airlines to produce cleaner - or even carbon neutral - jet fuel? I'd feel a lot happier saying 'yes' if it seemed like any of the airlines - besides Virgin Atlantic, god bless their cotton socks - seemed willing to take on that responsibility.

My pessimism might be genetic, or it might be a result of the thesis blues I'm currently suffering. Irrespective, if anyone sees any signs of hope, or has a rosier picture of humanity's future to share, please do so. I could use a pick-me-up. In the mean time, I'm counting my blessings that for now at least, we're safe on dry land.

Pictures from our Chicago/Vail/Michigan Adventures

Hiatus

Laura and I are heading to the USA tomorrow (hooray!), so no entries for a little while.

Stuff & Nonsense

As poor Laura lurches from deadline to deadline (AHRC, Uni funding application, comp exam, two marking deadlines), I'm afraid you're stuck with me filling in for now with bits of silliness. As silliness goes however, the following ranks very highly, providing a good dose of unexpected Monday morning laughs.



I'd also like to throw in a link to something Richard recently recommended (thanks Richard!). This is an excellent site featuring audio and video lectures from all kinds of fascinating intellectuals on a fantastically diverse range of topics. My favourite so far - I couldn't stop downloading these yesterday - is the charming Bill Bryson on A Short History of Nearly Everything.

Happy Bank Holiday, enjoy.

Spring & Scandal

Sheffield - like many places - is awash with all kinds of beautiful blossom. This view is on our walk to work each day along (ironically enough) Winter Street:




To our great surprise, Sheffield is also apparently awash with cannabis, or at least, our little corner of it is. The innocuous looking house pictured below is just across the street from us (this was taken from our upstairs bedroom window). On returning late from our friends' house last night we discovered three police cars and a substantial police van on Raven Road. There was a fair bit of activity, but no clear reason why. This morning, officers from South Yorkshire police have been removing plants, tubs of fertiliser, heat lamps, small humidifiers and all the gubbins associated with a cannabis factory from the house and dumping them in a skip (where they proceeded to smash them all up with a sledgehammer!). And all of us had absolutely no idea (honest guv!).

Sunday Links

Some weekend internet tipples that tickled my fancy:

Exploit children for percussive purposes. (Just pick a child and click).
The cheap and eco-friendly way to clean almost eveyrthing.
Fun tips on how to learn stuff faster.(However, number 4 is a croc, at least if this slate article is to be believed.)
Speaking of crocs, here are 10 reasons to wear them, which leave me somehow unconvinced; maybe because it's pretty darn cold in the UK a lot of the time.
Radiohead are still insane. Wait about thirty seconds then press 'Return' to play.

Pictures from Lochgoilhead

At last! Here is a preview of what you'll find if you head over to our Flickr page. Reminiscences to follow perhaps.

Save Internet Radio

Whilst the BBC still makes some bloody good radio programs, I am one of many who uses and enjoys independent internet radio stations. Perhaps the best of these is Pandora, which is incredibly good for finding new artists amid the dizzying array of genres and hype. Sadly, Pandora and other stations are now facing extinction thanks to an apparently irrational decision by various copyright authorities to charge them way over the odds for playing music. Please help to save these excellent and invaluable independent voices in internet radio by reading more details here and signing the relevant petition here. You need to be a US citizen, alas, since the decision has been made by US Copyright authorities.

Our Dublin Trip

It's about time we got around to sharing photos and news of our recent excursion to Dublin. As you all know we were there primarily on business, but we also managed to fit in a fair bit of pleasure...


This was my first ever Irish Guiness. I don't like Guiness and never have, although I can drink other stouts (I went through a Murphy's phase during my adolescence). I was also sceptical about all the claims that it tastes different in Ireland, but I must eat my hat now, because it's all true! This went down beautifully in the sleepy but authentic O'Donoghues. Just around the corner was a restaurant called 'Ely' where we treated ourselves to a fabulous meal on our first night out. We can heartily recommend the delicious food and dizzying array of excellent wines. We cannot speak so highly of the clientele, who were loud and a little obnoxious (two old (married) blokes hitting on two considerably younger ladies). My suggestion would be to book ahead, as we were seated on stools near the bar, where the wine was flowing more freely than at the quieter (but reserved) tables round the corner.

We saw some stunning paintings at the National Gallery (especially the Vermeer), which was just round the corner from our extraordinary accommodation: the Kildare Street & University Club.

Our very generously proportioned room looked out over St. Stephen's Green (which for those who don't know Dublin, is a lovely park right smack in the middle of the city).

The rather ornate dining room (blurred because I was being extra discrete with my mobile phone!) was where we ate breakfast each morning. Those are real chandeliers, and you can just make out the selection of imposing portraits on the walls, presumably of eminent academics and public figures who are related to the club in some way. The whole place was extremely quiet, all of the time, there was only the sound of old wind-up clocks and the occasional teaspoon hitting China.

We were lucky enough to enjoy some very un-Irish weather (I think it only rained once), which made for scenic walks around the city at sunset, and great light for photographs where O'Connell Street meets the Liffey...

This could almost be Amsterdam don't you think?


O'Connell Street, with the intriguing 'spire' art project in the distance. According to the Lonely Planet guide, the 120m Spire is 'a risqué homage to the fight against one of Dublin's greatest social ills, heroin addiction'. Apparently it's now known among droll locals as the 'Eyeful Tower'.


Sunset on the Liffey... (For a larger versions of some of these pictures, see the flickr page.) Finally, on the way home we stopped into an excellent cheese monger on Duke Street (highly recommended) to buy a wee present for the housemates, in the form of 'Coolea', an intriguing and delicious cheese from West Cork.

Petition Against Funding Cuts for Research

Some of you may already know that the British government has decided to cut funding for scientific and other research in order to plug a black hole in the Department for Trade and Industry's (DTI) annual budget (see this story). The absurd consequences of this decision will be that at a time when we're trying desperately to find ways to slow climate change (I'm no scientist, but I have a feeling that some research might make this easier?) and when the UK education system is failing to recruit new young scientists, we're taking money away from science (especially aspiring young scientists and researchers) in order to prop up the Nuclear industry and the failing car manufacturer Rover. To any of you who are UK citizens and agree with me that this demonstrates some badly skewed priorities on the part of our Government, I recommend you go and sign this petition. A letter to your local MP probably isn't a bad idea either.

Some Old Photos

We're both off to lovely Dublin for a very big and snazzy philosophy conference in honour of the eminent Hilary Putnam's 80th birthday.

So while we are away, and probably unable to post - depending on whether we have any internet access - we thought we'd leave you with some photos we forgot to post of our recent jaunt up to Scotland to celebrate our engagement with my family.


We spent an afternoon in the company of the irrepressible Gregor, who just loves his books (in this picture he was laughing uproariously at my sister counting stars for no obvious reason). He was also just beginning to walk on his own...




Apparently he's now thundering around the place without the need for assistance; we look forward to witnessing this for the first time during the Easter break.


My Mum collects these Angel figurines, which I had fun photographing in the unseasonable sunshine.


On the Sunday we went to visit Deep Sea World, where I discovered that photographing fish swimming around in a tank is extremely difficult, at least with my rather primitive Fuji Finepix. Laura however, is easier to catch standing relatively still...

My Domain

I've just managed to buy http:///www.andrewhowat.co.uk for a measly £6. I had no idea it was so easy, or so cheap! Hooray for technology.

Hints of Spring

Walking around our neighbourhood over the last few days, one could be forgiven for thinking it was mid- to late-March. We've had bright, breezy days, with long spells of sunshine that seems to feel stronger every moment. There are also flowers out in force: huge clutches of snowdrops and little colourful explosions of crocuses, our favourite of which is pictured above (believe it or not, I took that with my mobile phone!). Some other colours we've seen on our walks...



Notice the letters 'VR', standing for 'Victoria Regina', which means this postbox must be over a hundred-years old.



Anyone know what these are? I'm guessing they are inedible, for all their spectacular looks. (This picture has the unique quality of appearing upside down, irrespective of which way you turn it; or at least, it seems that way to me.)

Unfortunately, the temperatures haven't been SO high that we haven't noticed that our boiler is broken (the plumber is downstairs doing his best as I type) or that we have no hot water or central heating.

Good News!

I just received an invitation from Routledge to write an entry for their upcoming Encyclopedia of American Philosophy on realism. It'll be a 1000 word piece and it ought to be quite a challenge, what with 'realism' being probably the most Protean of all philosophical terms! Anyway, good news for someone like myself, increasingly desperately seeking employment, and I thought I would share my joy with you all.

Gathering Moss

I live in a damp, damp place.

The air is damp. The ground is damp. Even the light is damp.

When you walk through our neighborhood, the damp makes the trees a deeper, more pungent black and the contrasting sky more thin and... escaping, somehow. Like oil and water. The damp settles down, nesting over Sheffield, while the sky and air dodge and whistle between clouds and puddles. This damp can make you feel bedraggled, soggy, and woebegone, especially if it comes at you from all angles as some evil precipitate sent by God to punish you for the sins of your fathers. Those days I stay inside, nursing my tea and wondering what will become of us all.

But the damp can also be cozy and generative.

Flowers bloom and throw their fragrance at passing strangers in mid-February. The streets smell of old stone walls and crafty, crafty earth that is scheming away beneath your unknowing feet. And moss covers absolutely everything. There are moss-laden walls, crumbling beneath the weight of time and heavy, water-logged air. Moss creeps up flowerpots and over gates. It covers driveways and sidewalks. It blankets all of the trees.

I have never seen so much moss in all of my life. I think that I could acquire a moss-coat of my own, were I to sit still for long enough. Provided, of course, that I didn't mind the damp seat.

You wouldn't think, with all of this moisture, that Britain could ever suffer from lack of water. But only last summer the balmy South was struggling to hydrate all of its thirsty people, lawns, and toilets. Some people suggest that this shortage was/is due to the Victorian infra-structure of pipes and reservoirs that now leak almost as much as they provide. Even if this is so, what becomes of the leaked water? Surely it is not spirited away to some other country with too many golf courses? Doesn't it just seep back into the water table? Perhaps it is a logistical problem. I don't know. One of life's deep ironies.

As a side note, Andrew has a new web page for you all to admire. It is mostly work-based, (i think) so that potential employers can find out just how fabulous he is simply by means of Google. For any and all who are interested in the fabulousness of my fiancé, the link is now on the sidebar. If any of you have your own web pages and wouldn't mind, could you please post a link to Andrew's work page? It raises the profile of the page and increases the likelihood that the right people will stumble across it. I guess this is the new version of 'who you know'. Thanks.

Engagement Party

On Saturday night we held The (or at least An) Official Engagement Party at Raven Road. It was an intimate gathering of friends, nine of us in all, which meant we could afford to have a proper sit-down meal. Laura was in charge of the fabulous menu, which featured these delicious items...

Home-baked herb & beer bread (which came with green olives marinanded in olive oil, thyme, garlic and coriander).


Unfortunately I was too busy eating to get around to photographing the Tarte Tatin with green salad (2nd course), the Risottos Primavera and Walnut/Porcini with red pepper puree (main course). But after the cheese course, I was full enough to be distracted by the two very beautiful cakes. First, my friend Claire's Banana Caramel cake...

And second, Laura's lemon drizzle cake (from a book I'm afraid, but with coercion you might get her to post it here)...

With mascarpone filling... Yum!

Here are some other photographic vignettes from the evening:

1. Sticking balloons to the ceiling with static. Ken & Fiona win the prize for the most productive balloon placing team I think.



2. Origami - not just party hats made from kitchen roll, but a whole origami zoo, courtesy of this weekend's Guardian.

3. And an amusing conversation about pinching people's bums, with excellent role-play illustrations by Jane & Neil.

4. And of course, cousin Ken being, well, Ken...

It's Snowing in Britain!

So naturally the country has ground to a halt.

Laura and I are staying indoors, away from the hysteria, marking exams and trying to recover from a mild dose of flu. I've had perhaps my unluckiest week in history:

• Monday - my first ever parking ticket, thanks to some very ambiguous signposting.
  
• Tuesday - wake up with a fever and a sore throat, my brain is so addled I turn up at my second lecture at the wrong time, spend rest of day in bed being furious with myself, but trying very hard to laugh about it.
  
• Wednesday - Try to hold extra lecture in what is normally a seminar slot (and seminars don't usually start until week 3). Turns out the department has put a student in my room doing an exam on the assumption I wouldn't be using it. Have to relocate everyone at last minute, and only 5 people show up anyway.
  

So you can see why staying at home, browsing the web for cool photography, is an attractive option right now.

Sunday Morning

Last summer there were a couple of weeks where our schedules were so out of whack that we didn't end up seeing each other very often. This made us both grumpy, so we suggested The Sunday Morning(track 4). This is our weekly date; it is our time together when we don't have to talk about anything specific or do anything specific except have a yummy brunch with papers, etc. and generally hang out together.

After a decent lie-in, and once we have braved letting the daylight into the room - today was a sunny one, our favourite kind - we start with planning breakfast (well, it is the most important meal of the day). Today Laura baked these lovely (and deeply orange) pumpkin muffins (recipe here):



We often accompany our special brunch with some fresh juice, usually apple/carrot/ginger, made with our excellent juicer.

What is Sunday brunch without the right reading material? Our weapon of choice is the LRB.

Birthday Pics (at last!)

This was a post that was meant to appear on my birthday, but was tragically gobbled up by the internet gremlins. They hate me. I hate them. It has taken me a long time to regroup from the loss, but Andrew is heckling me, so here I (resentfully) (stupid gremlins) go:


My new home is at 6a Raven Road in Sheffield.



This is my street. The houses are all joined together. This is a really great idea in principle. Unfortunately there is an unemployed singing teenager living next to my bedroom (I put him in the same box as the gremlins... I hope they enjoy each other).



Lavender grows right outside of my house! A really big bush! With bumblebees. I like it a lot.



There are these little alleys between the joined up houses. If you walk down this one and look left, you will see my front door. If you go through that gate, you'll get to my garden, where we keep the bikes and the herbs that we steal from the neighbors.




C'mon in! (Careful, the stairs are steep!)



Downstairs, we have the kitchen (now thankfully sans Buddhists),



and the lounge, complete with fire place,



comfy chairs, and sheep. If you go upstairs,



and along the hall,



you'll get to my favourite room in the house. I love the bath. It loves me. No gremlins allowed.



I guess that just leaves my bedroom (OUR bedroom, Ed.), where I sleep and work. It looks pretty different now; a lot can happen in six months. We have new furniture, including a desk for me, which means that I can't work in bed any more. I blame the gremlins. Stupid gremlins.

Anyway, this is my house. I like living here. I like my housemates (I like them now, a lot has changed in six months). I like most of my neighbors (except the singing gremlin boy), I like the neighborhood (I can run around and there is a bakery and a green grocer and a scuba diving shop). So all that's missing is you.