Well I'm not sure actually that it is a crisis, as crises by definition should be sudden, unforeseen with some kind of immediate and severe impact on things in the short term. Take the economic crisis for example. Banks went under. People lost jobs. It was tangible. It was a crisis. People didn't see it coming. It was a shock to the system, like a decent crisis should be.
But the current crisis in government? That has been ongoing since the undemocratic appointment of Mr Brown as PM, following the long overdue departure of Mr Blair. There has been speculation and calls for the PM's beheading ever since, to the point of it becoming a bit boring. The Guardian columnist Polly Toynbee has been urging Labour to have a leadership contest for longer than I care to remember, and some sacrificial lambs in government have jumped ship along the way, crying out loud their disquiet about Mr Brown's leadership in their 15 seconds of coverage in the main news, soon forgotten about.
So now some more senior people have jumped ship (e.g. Smith, Blears, Purnell, Hutton). But the rebels have not been joined by the "presidential guards" as pointed out in the Guardian today. A revolt now is not a real threat to Mr Brown's premiership. By contrast, the next election will be. Polly, you have ask yourself, who in their right mind would want to take the Labour Party to the next general election? Gordon Brown, obviously, and the senior types are going to let him. Why would they want to be the leader for a few months only to lose the imminent election and get blamed for the defeat? Oh no, they're going to allow Mr Brown take the full hit. Alan Johnson, Toynbee's favourite leader-in-waiting, has emerged as the new Home Secretary in the current reshuffle.
My main problem is that it looks like we're going to have to live with a popular conservative administration for a while anyway, and that's not cricket.
Friday, 5 June 2009
Thursday, 9 April 2009
It Is Not Easy To Set Alight a Van
But, fear not, the people of Levenshulme have good skills and will rise to such a challenge no bother.
Last night I was woken up by the sound of a fire engine about 30 yards from my bedroom window extinguishing the handiwork of Levenshulme's finest.
Ironically, this followed my efforts in the community front earlier in the day by organising a screening of the environmentally-conscious film WALL-E at a local primary school. I personally applied for a cash grant from the city council for this event, thinking it would be a good thing to do when the kids are bored during school holidays. The sponsporship enabled us to throw in a nice buffet for everyone afterwards.
Speaking to the Police Community Support Officer this morning who knocked on my door to ask if I had seen anything, I wanted to know if it was just a random act of vandalism. "We're treating it as such" the PCSO replied.
Yesterday's lessons are two-fold:
- yes, the kids ARE bored during school holidays
- no, organising an event will not make a blind bit of difference because it's all the good kids who come, the bad ones will be out and about trying to get their hands on petrol and other supplies required for a succesfull van-cum-bonfire.
Last night I was woken up by the sound of a fire engine about 30 yards from my bedroom window extinguishing the handiwork of Levenshulme's finest.
Ironically, this followed my efforts in the community front earlier in the day by organising a screening of the environmentally-conscious film WALL-E at a local primary school. I personally applied for a cash grant from the city council for this event, thinking it would be a good thing to do when the kids are bored during school holidays. The sponsporship enabled us to throw in a nice buffet for everyone afterwards.
Speaking to the Police Community Support Officer this morning who knocked on my door to ask if I had seen anything, I wanted to know if it was just a random act of vandalism. "We're treating it as such" the PCSO replied.
Yesterday's lessons are two-fold:
- yes, the kids ARE bored during school holidays
- no, organising an event will not make a blind bit of difference because it's all the good kids who come, the bad ones will be out and about trying to get their hands on petrol and other supplies required for a succesfull van-cum-bonfire.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
The tangled web of social networks
If you are reading this, then you probably have also heard about the recent debate on the health warnings about the extensive use of web 2.0 by our youngsters. The storm that raged about the use of social networking sites in particular took place in a teacup called the House of Lords, whipped up largely by one Baroness Greenfield .
You will not be surprised that the Daily Mail jumped on the bandwagon to broadcast the headline “Social websites harm children's brains: Chilling warning to parents from top neuroscientist“
Nor will it surprise you that the scientific evidence to support this claim has since been brought into question, and indeed Catherine Bennett had a go at Baroness Greenfield on the Comment page in the Observer today.
The problem I have with the entire debate is that of course the liberal front will attack the Baroness for expressing such “antiquated” opinions and borderline prejudice towards technology - that is the cool stance to take. And the House of Lords is an easy target. It is uncool, and just so 20th century, to be a sceptic when it comes to the infiltration of modern ICTs into our daily lives.
Simultaneously (paradoxically), it is hip to be very critical indeed of the use of ICTs by governments and the diffusion of (mass surveillance) technology. The division of labour in this debate is such that the cool kids warn us of “the erosion of freedoms” whilst the government officialdom are seen as the crude Orwellian technocrats who in their endless pursuit for more power (of information) will drain society of civil liberties (read about it here).
To point out the paradox, in case you wondered what it was, those who defend web 2.0 and social networking will happily plaster personal information about themselves all over the net, whilst concerns have been raised in another “cool camp” about the exploitation of this giant pool of data (volunteered by individuals) for commercial purposes (or indeed for something altogether more sinister). In fact, my own recent status update alerted fellow facebookers to this piece of news. (erm, no one batted an eyelid)
Make what you wish of this debate, or choose a side even. What I am going to do instead is to add another, a rather more blogite, layer to it.
I want talk about the perils of social networking, not because I believe that it is going to “rewire your brain” (which is what Baroness Greenfield would have you believe) and therefore make you suffer from permanent ADHD. Nor because it looks like facebook might sell the right to access your personal information to faceless multinationals.
The subject of this post, admittedly after a lengthy introduction, is the potential personal cost of exposure to online social networks. I am about to discuss some observations made since giving up on my resistance to join the facebook frenzy back in October 2007.
A personal and well, yes, at times funny, article by Georgina Hobbs-Meyer appeared in the Guardian a while ago about the break-up of one marriage and how it all played out on facebook. Reference was naturally made to the infamous case of Chelsy Davy’s relationship status update. Albeit slightly naively written from the perspective of a 24-year old (/young) woman discovering her husband having an affair with a "younger woman" aged 19 (yes, it's all relative, isn't it?), it made me want to add my tuppence worth on the broader topic of social networking.
Today’s comment in the Observer by Catherine Bennett touches very lightly upon a previously uncharted territory of twittering about the end of your life – something she (surprisingly) attributes to “an older subscriber” - "looking down at my grey motionless body". I was struck by that assumption made about the nearness of death and old age particularly as none of us has been spared from the poor Jade Goody making a very public affair of her terminal cancer.
A friend of mine has become a twitter fan of Stephen Fry, Russell Brand and “Wossy” (who all tweet generously) and therefore I, too, have some exposure to the sort of things these gentlemen choose to broadcast about their daily lives. If Jade Goody was a twitterer (I don’t know if she is) her tweets would surely make a good case study of this emerging concept of web 2.0, social networks, exhibitionism and death. Then again, due to the very nature of web 2.0, there’s no money to be made from twittering your cancer diary (the attention economy has nothing to do with cash exchanging hands) - a fair assumption then that Jade Goody does not twitter, about her illness anyway.
Back to my sentiments/observations about facebook – or should I say fakebook: people post updates and photos portraying an image of them as party animals, looking gorgeous and being on top of the world generally. I heard recently of an encounter where a friend had met someone in the flesh and could not have recognised them on the basis of their profile picture (looking like a sex goddess, the truth being far from it). I, too, know of one or two people who might be guilty of faking it on facebook. That having said, I don’t know of any women who would post an entirely unflattering image of themselves, but there is a distinction to be made between flattering and unrealistic. Mind, once on facebook most of us are exposed to (un)helpful friends tagging us in photos looking… well… realistic.
Georgina Hobbs-Meyer’s account talks about discovering your husband having cyber-sex, thus she writes quite scornfully about the hedonistic side of facebook, and also of the dark side of becoming obsessed with using the tool to consume every bit of information you can about someone else.
In my social network I have witnessed an ex-lover hacking into their former love interest's facebook account and causing havoc. Another person inadvertently disclosed to a number of people through facebook about their recent miscarriage, and for good measure the same thread contained intimate details of her friend’s relationship break down. Not so much a slip of the tongue, but a slip of the finger. Thanks to facebook’s functionality, emails were sent to a whole host of unintended recipients.
The tangled web of social networks is such that it could happen to you - be warned.
You will not be surprised that the Daily Mail jumped on the bandwagon to broadcast the headline “Social websites harm children's brains: Chilling warning to parents from top neuroscientist“
Nor will it surprise you that the scientific evidence to support this claim has since been brought into question, and indeed Catherine Bennett had a go at Baroness Greenfield on the Comment page in the Observer today.
The problem I have with the entire debate is that of course the liberal front will attack the Baroness for expressing such “antiquated” opinions and borderline prejudice towards technology - that is the cool stance to take. And the House of Lords is an easy target. It is uncool, and just so 20th century, to be a sceptic when it comes to the infiltration of modern ICTs into our daily lives.
Simultaneously (paradoxically), it is hip to be very critical indeed of the use of ICTs by governments and the diffusion of (mass surveillance) technology. The division of labour in this debate is such that the cool kids warn us of “the erosion of freedoms” whilst the government officialdom are seen as the crude Orwellian technocrats who in their endless pursuit for more power (of information) will drain society of civil liberties (read about it here).
To point out the paradox, in case you wondered what it was, those who defend web 2.0 and social networking will happily plaster personal information about themselves all over the net, whilst concerns have been raised in another “cool camp” about the exploitation of this giant pool of data (volunteered by individuals) for commercial purposes (or indeed for something altogether more sinister). In fact, my own recent status update alerted fellow facebookers to this piece of news. (erm, no one batted an eyelid)
Make what you wish of this debate, or choose a side even. What I am going to do instead is to add another, a rather more blogite, layer to it.
I want talk about the perils of social networking, not because I believe that it is going to “rewire your brain” (which is what Baroness Greenfield would have you believe) and therefore make you suffer from permanent ADHD. Nor because it looks like facebook might sell the right to access your personal information to faceless multinationals.
The subject of this post, admittedly after a lengthy introduction, is the potential personal cost of exposure to online social networks. I am about to discuss some observations made since giving up on my resistance to join the facebook frenzy back in October 2007.
A personal and well, yes, at times funny, article by Georgina Hobbs-Meyer appeared in the Guardian a while ago about the break-up of one marriage and how it all played out on facebook. Reference was naturally made to the infamous case of Chelsy Davy’s relationship status update. Albeit slightly naively written from the perspective of a 24-year old (/young) woman discovering her husband having an affair with a "younger woman" aged 19 (yes, it's all relative, isn't it?), it made me want to add my tuppence worth on the broader topic of social networking.
Today’s comment in the Observer by Catherine Bennett touches very lightly upon a previously uncharted territory of twittering about the end of your life – something she (surprisingly) attributes to “an older subscriber” - "looking down at my grey motionless body". I was struck by that assumption made about the nearness of death and old age particularly as none of us has been spared from the poor Jade Goody making a very public affair of her terminal cancer.
A friend of mine has become a twitter fan of Stephen Fry, Russell Brand and “Wossy” (who all tweet generously) and therefore I, too, have some exposure to the sort of things these gentlemen choose to broadcast about their daily lives. If Jade Goody was a twitterer (I don’t know if she is) her tweets would surely make a good case study of this emerging concept of web 2.0, social networks, exhibitionism and death. Then again, due to the very nature of web 2.0, there’s no money to be made from twittering your cancer diary (the attention economy has nothing to do with cash exchanging hands) - a fair assumption then that Jade Goody does not twitter, about her illness anyway.
Back to my sentiments/observations about facebook – or should I say fakebook: people post updates and photos portraying an image of them as party animals, looking gorgeous and being on top of the world generally. I heard recently of an encounter where a friend had met someone in the flesh and could not have recognised them on the basis of their profile picture (looking like a sex goddess, the truth being far from it). I, too, know of one or two people who might be guilty of faking it on facebook. That having said, I don’t know of any women who would post an entirely unflattering image of themselves, but there is a distinction to be made between flattering and unrealistic. Mind, once on facebook most of us are exposed to (un)helpful friends tagging us in photos looking… well… realistic.
Georgina Hobbs-Meyer’s account talks about discovering your husband having cyber-sex, thus she writes quite scornfully about the hedonistic side of facebook, and also of the dark side of becoming obsessed with using the tool to consume every bit of information you can about someone else.
In my social network I have witnessed an ex-lover hacking into their former love interest's facebook account and causing havoc. Another person inadvertently disclosed to a number of people through facebook about their recent miscarriage, and for good measure the same thread contained intimate details of her friend’s relationship break down. Not so much a slip of the tongue, but a slip of the finger. Thanks to facebook’s functionality, emails were sent to a whole host of unintended recipients.
The tangled web of social networks is such that it could happen to you - be warned.
Thursday, 5 February 2009
Former Fan of Wintry Weather
Winter used to be my favourite season, and yes that sounds perverse coming from someone who is from Finland - a country where everyone moans about the length and breadth of winter, and conversely, praises the sweetness of the short-lived summer.
Not me though, I used to love the winter, always. The darkness I didn't mind, in fact, when evening wrapped its thick dark blanket around the landscape from 3 pm onwards, I felt strangely alive. Alive, I guess, because it made me acutely aware of the changing seasons and all that comes with it. Plus you could go out at 6 pm, lie on your back against the snow and gaze at the starry sky, engulfed in blackness. Blackness that is in fact made up of whiteness, zillions of little glistening snow crystals reflecting light from the stars above. It feels like floating in space - although I've never floated in space, I used to imagine that's what it must be like for the astronauts.
Winter used to be special.
So what happened? For quite a while after moving to England I would still get excited over a bit of snow, or frost even, being reminded of the magic that was winter. Not that we'd get too many days in a year with decent frost in Manchester; the Pennines, the Irish Sea and an urban micro climate make sure that wintry conditions are a rarety in these parts. Even now when the rest of the country, it seems, has had a foot of snow or more, there's hardly any evidence of the white stuff in and around South Manchester.
But my recent turn against wintry weather has nothing to do in fact with snow, the lack thereof, or the reported chaos in those parts of the UK blessed/cursed with a fair dose of it. Although I do feel sorry for all those people stranded at airports and such like, I know what that feels like having been grounded at Copenhagen once for 17 hours due to a blizzard.
It's the fact that I can't get warm in the winter that does it for me. The house I co-own has loft insulation, additional underfloor insulation, double-glazed windows and central heating (goes without saying if you ask me, but let's just say it anyway).
When the weather is cool (that's to say, approximately 8 months of the year in Manchester) I wear woolly socks around the house, layers upon layers of clothes, often a fleece, and when I sit down I have to wrap myself in a blanket like an old squaw.
I am known to have worn all of the above to bed as well, because there's nothing more unpleasant than slipping in between cold sheets if you ask me - the bed feeling like a block of ice underneath you (of course, ironically the opposite is true in the summer, but this is not summer, is it?).
I almost begin to see the point of hot water bottles and electric blankets, but still after 9 years I stand proud (and cold) thinking that I will not be caught with such items. Also, I have a slight phobia of being electrocuted in bed due to some dodgy wiring in the blanket "made in home town" as Xiaolu Guo would put it (for those who haven't had the pleasure of A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers, it's well worth a read).
As a former fan of wintry weather, I still enjoy the aesthetic improvements that snow brings upon the Manchester streetscape, it makes it very Lowry-esque, methinks.
But let it be known that I am oh-so-sick of being cold.
Not me though, I used to love the winter, always. The darkness I didn't mind, in fact, when evening wrapped its thick dark blanket around the landscape from 3 pm onwards, I felt strangely alive. Alive, I guess, because it made me acutely aware of the changing seasons and all that comes with it. Plus you could go out at 6 pm, lie on your back against the snow and gaze at the starry sky, engulfed in blackness. Blackness that is in fact made up of whiteness, zillions of little glistening snow crystals reflecting light from the stars above. It feels like floating in space - although I've never floated in space, I used to imagine that's what it must be like for the astronauts.
Winter used to be special.
So what happened? For quite a while after moving to England I would still get excited over a bit of snow, or frost even, being reminded of the magic that was winter. Not that we'd get too many days in a year with decent frost in Manchester; the Pennines, the Irish Sea and an urban micro climate make sure that wintry conditions are a rarety in these parts. Even now when the rest of the country, it seems, has had a foot of snow or more, there's hardly any evidence of the white stuff in and around South Manchester.
But my recent turn against wintry weather has nothing to do in fact with snow, the lack thereof, or the reported chaos in those parts of the UK blessed/cursed with a fair dose of it. Although I do feel sorry for all those people stranded at airports and such like, I know what that feels like having been grounded at Copenhagen once for 17 hours due to a blizzard.
It's the fact that I can't get warm in the winter that does it for me. The house I co-own has loft insulation, additional underfloor insulation, double-glazed windows and central heating (goes without saying if you ask me, but let's just say it anyway).
When the weather is cool (that's to say, approximately 8 months of the year in Manchester) I wear woolly socks around the house, layers upon layers of clothes, often a fleece, and when I sit down I have to wrap myself in a blanket like an old squaw.
I am known to have worn all of the above to bed as well, because there's nothing more unpleasant than slipping in between cold sheets if you ask me - the bed feeling like a block of ice underneath you (of course, ironically the opposite is true in the summer, but this is not summer, is it?).
I almost begin to see the point of hot water bottles and electric blankets, but still after 9 years I stand proud (and cold) thinking that I will not be caught with such items. Also, I have a slight phobia of being electrocuted in bed due to some dodgy wiring in the blanket "made in home town" as Xiaolu Guo would put it (for those who haven't had the pleasure of A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers, it's well worth a read).
As a former fan of wintry weather, I still enjoy the aesthetic improvements that snow brings upon the Manchester streetscape, it makes it very Lowry-esque, methinks.
But let it be known that I am oh-so-sick of being cold.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
"PhD's are not good for you"
Wise words from our Professor, the formidable Cecilia Wong when she spotted me back at my desk the day before yesterday after a period of absence/interruption.
My supervisor had told her about the calamity in my life on all fronts. I don't generally half-do things, so perhaps it is just as well that I have a full-blown crisis in all departments.
I do remember attending a "welcome talk" by the Dean of the School to all new PhD students some 2.5 years ago, and she quoted bleak statistics. So many of us would never complete, so many will end up in a relationship break down and so many will face some other untoward incident the likelihood of which goes up with aspirations for high academic achievement.
The evidence was there, PhD's are not good for you. My good friend and fellow PhD candidate and I didn't think those statistics had anything to do with us - we were mature, sorted and settled sort of people. We were in long-term established relationships with careers and mortgages, after all. So what's the worst that can happen?
Your dad dies, you spend 3 months of a year abroad, fuck up your long term relationship and find yourself looking for somewhere to live, with a major backlog of work that makes your stomach turn.
It's time for serious self discipline and a ban on foreign holidays (that includes conferences, but not any long weekend type city breaks that one's mother is likely to initiate).
Maybe it'll all be worth it in the end?
My supervisor had told her about the calamity in my life on all fronts. I don't generally half-do things, so perhaps it is just as well that I have a full-blown crisis in all departments.
I do remember attending a "welcome talk" by the Dean of the School to all new PhD students some 2.5 years ago, and she quoted bleak statistics. So many of us would never complete, so many will end up in a relationship break down and so many will face some other untoward incident the likelihood of which goes up with aspirations for high academic achievement.
The evidence was there, PhD's are not good for you. My good friend and fellow PhD candidate and I didn't think those statistics had anything to do with us - we were mature, sorted and settled sort of people. We were in long-term established relationships with careers and mortgages, after all. So what's the worst that can happen?
Your dad dies, you spend 3 months of a year abroad, fuck up your long term relationship and find yourself looking for somewhere to live, with a major backlog of work that makes your stomach turn.
It's time for serious self discipline and a ban on foreign holidays (that includes conferences, but not any long weekend type city breaks that one's mother is likely to initiate).
Maybe it'll all be worth it in the end?
Monday, 8 December 2008
The Pun of the Year 2008
"it seems to me that you can already maintain your stroke well over the length"
adding to that,
"Also you're receptive to learning new skills"
"Also you're receptive to learning new skills"
said my swimming instructor to me this morning, and in so doing put a smile on my face. The funniest thing about it is that I don't think the instructor meant to sound so ruthlessly carry-on. This is just normal swimming talk.
I signed up for tutored swimming classes run by the University's Swimming Club this semester in order to "improve my technique and stamina" in the pool.
I was allocated a place in the middle group which has meant quite a wide variety of skills amongst us. A very wide spectrum indeed. I've enjoyed it nevertheless although I've missed a good few sessions due to being in various locations in the world, frankly, anywhere but Manchester. There's only one final session left and we received an email about enrolling to the continuation classes over the Spring term.
Yes please, I thought, but I could do with a challenge. Should I suggest moving up to the advanced class?
The answer lies in the stroke - maintained over the length, mind, one is not to stall or slow down half way up the length, that does not earn you a place in the advanced group.
From there on you build your stamina to maintain the stroke over longer sessions (or greater lengths). Can't wait.
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Pause for thought
I should start this post by wishing Finland a very happy 91st birthday. The Finnish Independence Day is a big deal at home, and to prove the point I, too, gathered with a number of compatriots at the Ambassador's Independence Day reception at his official residence last night. To my defence I would have had to make a trip to the Embassy anyway to pick up a certificate which the Finnish authorities require in dealing with my father's estate. Today, the President of the Republic hosts her own (televised) reception which the entire nation follows with interest: who's been invited, who wears what (the fashionistas making live commentary online, such this one from 2007), who's on their own and who launches a new partner by their side on the red carpet. The sombre and serious cause of our nation's independence has been turned into one of the biggest showbiz extravaganzas of the year. Go figure.
It's been a bit quiet on this blog since my trip to Australia, from where I continued to Shanghai and Nanjing for a quick look around. China was a real eye-opener, but Sydney impressed me most (pictured left). Beautiful city, great weather, food to die for at reasonable prices. Perfect for a holiday. The only problem is of course the hideously long journey to get there from almost anywhere in the world, bar New Zealand perhaps.
That having said, Shanghai was intriguing to say the least, it was at the Urban Plan
ning Exhibition opposite to the People's Square where I saw this gigantic model of Shanghai (pictured right). I reckon it's the only way to get a proper grip of the city - once you're in it the high rises, complex motorway flyovers and little narrow alleys merge into this one giant bowl of noodles. An enourmous pulsating beast of a city. Only by looking at the city physically at your feet you understand what's where and the scale of it. Particularly if you only have three days as in my case. In 2010 Shanghai will host the World Expo, and having looked at the displays of the various Pavilions, and the plans for huge redevelopment of the river side where the Exhibition Village is going to be built, one is almost tempted to go back to have a look at it in 2 years time. As a peculiar little detail, the authorities have launched a "better city, better life" campaign as part of which for example the extent of spitting that happens in the city will be curtailed. Yep, that's right, spitting.
The day before I was due to leave Manchester for Melbourne I received a phone call from home - it was mum saying dad had been taken into hospital. 16 days later when I came back I had a hectic 5 days in Manchester before dashing off to Finland for a surprise visit on Father's Day. I was supposed to come back straight away and crack on with my PhD but that was not going to happen. Dad's condition deteriorated suddenly, so I decided it would be a bad move to return to England. Only four days later he passed away. Even the nurses were shocked at the speed of his decline. They assured us it was actually a good thing, in the case of a combined liver and heart failure it's not a nice experience for anyone to hang around for a prolonged period of time.
So my research was put on the back burner. I have officially "interrupted" my studies for 3 months, starting from 1st November until 31st January 09. This is to give me more time to spend at home over the Christmas period and generally to take stock.
2008 has been a very, very hectic year. I have contemplated on my carbon footprint - in the space of 11 months I have been to Madrid, Amsterdam, Florence, Helsinki (7 weeks), Cinque Terra, Nice, Marseille, Melbourne, Sydney, Shanghai and Nanjing. Oh, and then Helsinki again.
Things will be different next year.
It's been a bit quiet on this blog since my trip to Australia, from where I continued to Shanghai and Nanjing for a quick look around. China was a real eye-opener, but Sydney impressed me most (pictured left). Beautiful city, great weather, food to die for at reasonable prices. Perfect for a holiday. The only problem is of course the hideously long journey to get there from almost anywhere in the world, bar New Zealand perhaps.That having said, Shanghai was intriguing to say the least, it was at the Urban Plan
ning Exhibition opposite to the People's Square where I saw this gigantic model of Shanghai (pictured right). I reckon it's the only way to get a proper grip of the city - once you're in it the high rises, complex motorway flyovers and little narrow alleys merge into this one giant bowl of noodles. An enourmous pulsating beast of a city. Only by looking at the city physically at your feet you understand what's where and the scale of it. Particularly if you only have three days as in my case. In 2010 Shanghai will host the World Expo, and having looked at the displays of the various Pavilions, and the plans for huge redevelopment of the river side where the Exhibition Village is going to be built, one is almost tempted to go back to have a look at it in 2 years time. As a peculiar little detail, the authorities have launched a "better city, better life" campaign as part of which for example the extent of spitting that happens in the city will be curtailed. Yep, that's right, spitting.The day before I was due to leave Manchester for Melbourne I received a phone call from home - it was mum saying dad had been taken into hospital. 16 days later when I came back I had a hectic 5 days in Manchester before dashing off to Finland for a surprise visit on Father's Day. I was supposed to come back straight away and crack on with my PhD but that was not going to happen. Dad's condition deteriorated suddenly, so I decided it would be a bad move to return to England. Only four days later he passed away. Even the nurses were shocked at the speed of his decline. They assured us it was actually a good thing, in the case of a combined liver and heart failure it's not a nice experience for anyone to hang around for a prolonged period of time.
So my research was put on the back burner. I have officially "interrupted" my studies for 3 months, starting from 1st November until 31st January 09. This is to give me more time to spend at home over the Christmas period and generally to take stock.
2008 has been a very, very hectic year. I have contemplated on my carbon footprint - in the space of 11 months I have been to Madrid, Amsterdam, Florence, Helsinki (7 weeks), Cinque Terra, Nice, Marseille, Melbourne, Sydney, Shanghai and Nanjing. Oh, and then Helsinki again.
Things will be different next year.
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