Today is the day I will discover the name of the man in the van. I already know that he's married. Now, don't get ideas, I am not (to use a phrase loved by my nana) a fast piece. I found this out when purchasing my 99 yesterday and he volunteered the information that a bomb scare was in process not too far from where we were all enjoying the afternoon sunshine.
My money is on Pete.
But whilst the costs of this little piece of primary research are starting to stack up - with an additional impact on my thickening girth - to sit in the B School forecourt licking a cone and bask in the sun as students campaign for their sabbatical candidates is extremely pleasant. It's nice to see gaggles of young people enthusiastically engage in all kinds of marketing ploys and to see them enjoying themselves so much whilst doing it. Over the past few years, the SU elections have seen a growth spurt of campaign activity and for a short space of time the place is transformed into a vibrant hotbed of rhetoric. And whilst some might bemoan the absence of political orientation and debate, I am at least cheered by the sight of people so keen on spending a year essentially working for an electorate and putting forward a view as to what that work should consist of. Now if you could translate THAT into academic study you'd be on to a winner...
Wednesday 14 March 2007
Monday 12 March 2007
The man with the van
Coming out of the Business School this pm, and on my way to the library, I saw an ice cream van. What is it about spring weather (at its best) that has you smiling at daffs and making a dash for the 99? And what is it about the really rather ‘inferior’ ice cream and the not quite a flake flake that combine together so wonderfully? The van man had lollies too. It is almost enuf to make you want to go into work, safe in the knowledge that he will be back, his sole mission to entice your tongue around the whirls of soft ice cream and feel the cloying sweetness slip down your throat. Sauce and nuts optional.
Sunday 4 March 2007
let's hear it for the gril...
Being a gril involves having a different mindset from that of a girl. We all know what girls are and jolly nice they are too – I won’t have a word said against them because they do a damn good job and they’re fabberlus.
Grils are a special variant. My problematic prof at work is a gril, so are my two cats, Anne Widdicome, Shirley Williams (just), the sadly missed Mo Mowlam and Diane Abbot. Sleepy is definitely a gril and so, I suspect, is Schnee...
Being a gril involves large amounts of eccentric behaviour and a resolute refusal to toe the party line if it is truly against your principles and beliefs. Grils are often prepared to endure substantial ridicule – not only for their beliefs and stance but for aspects of their life such as their sexuality, their weight, their personal appearance and their personality. Grils are often involved in breaking new ground; taking on jobs in traditionally masculine occupations or in very macho cultures. In this sense they often break glass ceilings and can, if they so wish and have big enough hearts, encourage other women to follow them.
One emergent gril in a hugely male dominated profession is American orchestral conductor, Marin Alsop. Her occupation is one of the last bastions of hegemonic masculinity – you think of all the conductors you can name and I will lay a wager that they are all male. This does not mean that good women conductors do not exist, far from it. But for whatever reason (and this is not my field) they do not necessarily either emerge or go the distance as their male equivalents of similar capability might.
I was lucky enough to see Ms Alsop conduct the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra two weeks ago. A friend of mine who is a Mahler fan (they did the first symphony) was clearly moved by the performance, stating that it was probably the best or certainly up there with the best he had ever experienced. I don’t have the same musical knowledge to make an informed judgement but I thought it was wonderful too.
So let’s hear it for the gril, a woman who clearly doesn’t wear heels (ever), walks a bit like a navvy but exudes huge personal warmth and conducts like a beast. She had her own website and you can download her doing Mahler’s 5th live with the LSO and cheer, ‘more grils, please, more grils’!
Grils are a special variant. My problematic prof at work is a gril, so are my two cats, Anne Widdicome, Shirley Williams (just), the sadly missed Mo Mowlam and Diane Abbot. Sleepy is definitely a gril and so, I suspect, is Schnee...
Being a gril involves large amounts of eccentric behaviour and a resolute refusal to toe the party line if it is truly against your principles and beliefs. Grils are often prepared to endure substantial ridicule – not only for their beliefs and stance but for aspects of their life such as their sexuality, their weight, their personal appearance and their personality. Grils are often involved in breaking new ground; taking on jobs in traditionally masculine occupations or in very macho cultures. In this sense they often break glass ceilings and can, if they so wish and have big enough hearts, encourage other women to follow them.
One emergent gril in a hugely male dominated profession is American orchestral conductor, Marin Alsop. Her occupation is one of the last bastions of hegemonic masculinity – you think of all the conductors you can name and I will lay a wager that they are all male. This does not mean that good women conductors do not exist, far from it. But for whatever reason (and this is not my field) they do not necessarily either emerge or go the distance as their male equivalents of similar capability might.
I was lucky enough to see Ms Alsop conduct the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra two weeks ago. A friend of mine who is a Mahler fan (they did the first symphony) was clearly moved by the performance, stating that it was probably the best or certainly up there with the best he had ever experienced. I don’t have the same musical knowledge to make an informed judgement but I thought it was wonderful too.
So let’s hear it for the gril, a woman who clearly doesn’t wear heels (ever), walks a bit like a navvy but exudes huge personal warmth and conducts like a beast. She had her own website and you can download her doing Mahler’s 5th live with the LSO and cheer, ‘more grils, please, more grils’!
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