Memories of 1980s Oxford, for the second time this month. In the same week in which I received an invitation to the Osma Centenary Symposium, Andrew informed me that he'd turned up a cassette tape from 1982 while looking (inevitably) for something else. He digitised it and emailed the result to Bernard and me. The…
Symposium, amongst other things, can mean "a one-day conference". Who knew it had to be just for the one day? (Not Plato for sure.) Last week I was invited to a symposium at Oxford. Some time ago I blogged about my trip to Madrid at Easter 1980, when I was 25 years old. This memorable…
I am an enthusiastic, if very limited, "musician". I don't think of myself as a musician - and neither does anyone else! I've never been able to read music properly, I've never had a lesson and I am certainly no virtuoso on any instrument. But music means quite a lot to me, and not just…
Have you been to Romania? I can recommend it. I speak as someone who has spent five days in the country. We stayed in Bucharest and Brașov: the two cities that nearly everyone on a short break visits because they are relatively close together. On arrival at Bucharest Airport you will immediately see that you…
How often do you fail at something important, and get a second chance? As previously recounted in Useless Information, when I was a postgrad at Queen’s, back in 1983, I was picked for the University Challenge team. I've always been a fan of the show and I was fortunate to (still) be at college when…
No I haven't got a job just now and I don't actually want one, but thanks for the offer - it's a very kind thought but I have far too much on, unfortunately. But that wasn't always the case. At one point I was desperate for a job - almost, but not quite, any job.…
When I was 10, my father's cousin (more like an uncle to me, as they'd both been brought up by my grandmother in Glasgow) became engaged to an English girl, a bold deed previously unheard of within our family. The wedding was to take place in Hemel Hempstead on 31 July 1965. As it was…
In 1979, at the start of my second post-graduate year in Oxford, I was awarded the prestigious and lucrative Osma Studentship. I was required to spend at least six weeks in Madrid. Not that I was complaining. I immediately spent a good chunk of the money on a Shergold double-neck guitar (so far, not a…
I hadn't seen Alison for quite a while but we had stayed in touch over the years. In was 1982 and she was back from Tokyo or Beirut or Damascus, or wherever. For someone who had to resit her A levels, she was heading for a distinguished academic career, which was more than I was.…
October 1979: I was still, or again, (depending on which way you looked at it, as I'd returned to do post-grad work) studying at The Queen's College Oxford. The college offered me the exalted if ridiculous-sounding position of Vir Probatus (Junior Dean) if I abandoned the freezing slum that was 41 Bullingdon Road and moved…
The Wight Stuff 