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.