So what is it that you do?

August has gotten off to a rather lazy beginning. After finishing a monster 10,000 word essay for my supervisor, I felt the need to go into a bit of a hibernation mode. My days have been filled with CrossFit, YouTube videos, Netflix, and World of Warcraft. It has been a very necessary break and I must admit that I am loathed to start up work again. Thankfully, I’m slightly ahead of where I need to be in my PhD and so I have a bit of wiggle room.

It hasn’t all been hedonism and weightlifting though. I’ve been working on some extracurricular projects over the summer which have taken on a new prominence as my own project waits patiently for me to get back to it. I have agreed to be an SSCC representative at the department. SSCC stands for Student Staff Consultation Committee. Some of you may remember I took on this role while I was at Durham as well, though it’s a very different thing at this university. It seems that while there is the liaising with staff representatives which was the core of what I did last year, reps here are more about providing help and support to PhDs which includes social activities, welfare and the like. I haven’t officially begun my tenure as a rep but I’ve already been in contact with my colleagues and we’ve discussed some potential routes we may explore. To be honest, there is some irony is my taking this position on. I’ve been struggling with feelings of isolation, imposter syndrome, and depression and anxiety. In speaking with other PhDs not just at this university but at others as well, it seems that isolation and imposter syndrome are extremely common. I’m hoping as a rep to prioritise mental well-being this year not just for my sake, but for all of our students.

While some ideas for social gatherings and perhaps periodic yoga and mindfulness seminars are bouncing around my brain, I’ve also been stuck in with work on a Black History Month community project. This is probably the one project that I feel most excited about and really touches on the work I hope to do in the future. Teens from around Leicester are going to be coming to the university in October (that’s when the UK celebrates Black History Month) where they will have the opportunity to interact with some collections and where we will be discussing race issues. I’m really hoping it’s a day that will inspire the students to make some changes in their lives and communities. It’s such an exciting and complex project to be working on but it’s one that is so important to me.

Finally, I’m getting some practical exhibition experience as well working on the display of a commissioned art piece at the university library. The display will also include a digital exhibition of some of the library’s archival collection, specifically the Joe Orton Collection. While rather ironically, I find my interest in museum work moving away from exhibitions and more into community engagement and education (yes, I know I railed against returning to an education career last year), I am glad to finally be getting some hands-on exhibition experience.

Back in the Saddle Again

I really must apologise for abandoning this blog the way I have. It has been three and a half months since I returned from my research trip in the US and I've not been able to get back to blogging regularly for a number of reasons.

I pretty much hit the ground running when I got back to Leicester after a month going through the southern US and spending time at home. My trip was absolutely brilliant. I got to see so many incredible sites, went to the American Alliance of Museums Conference in Atlanta, and also got to spend some much needed time at home with friends and family. While I did keep up with my personal travel journal, there is just too much to put down here. I would love to write a proper post about it though I don't want to promise anything. What I will say is that I never expected to enjoy the American south as much as I did. I absolutely loved Atlanta and Memphis. I managed to go to both city's botanical gardens and made sure I visited the National Center for Civil and Human Rights and the National Civil Rights Museum. The latter is on the site of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s assassination. I even stopped off in Montgomery to visit the Rosa Parks Museum. From there I flew to DC, one of my absolute favourite cities in the world. I had a lovely few days there visiting the Holocaust Memorial Museum, the parks, monuments, and the National Mall. I lovingly referred to my trip as my Super Duper American Research Tour 2015 Extravaganzapolooza and I think it definitely lived up to the hype. I got a lot of good ideas from visiting social justice museums and nothing can ever beat meeting and talking to new people. Despite some of the rough patches I've hit in the past few months (I'll get to that in a minute), looking back on that month really makes me smile and wish I could do it all over again.

When I returned to the UK I immediately took on a number of projects. I was feeling rejuvenated and refreshed from my trip. Travel always does that for me and indeed, I'm at my happiest when I'm travelling. Unfortunately I took on too much. I agreed to do some transcribing work and while the fee was brilliant and I was in desperate need of some cash, the job took up every spare moment of my time. I also had to dive right into my next major paper for my PhD which took two months and ended up weighing in at a monstrous 10,000 words. As if those weren't enough I decided to help out on an exhibition project for the library which ended up being a bit more than I thought and I was already working on another project in the department and oh, yeah, there was Research Week in the middle of June. You sort of see how things just got piled up on top of me. 

Probably the worst bit of it all was that I was ill for most of June and some of July. About two weeks after I got back I was slammed by a peculiar exhaustion. When I say slammed, I mean slammed. One minute I was fine, the next I could barely make the walk home and was worried I'd have to have a nap on a bench somewhere. A few blood tests and plenty of doctor's appointments later, it turns out it may have been the result of low iron. I've since started taking a multivitamin with extra iron and I've changed my diet to include iron-rich foods. It seems to be helping. I'm still feeling a bit tired overall, but now I can actually get some things done before I need to crawl into bed at the end of the day. 

So the good news is that I'm feeling better, my paper went over exceptionally well with my supervisor, and now I'm a bit ahead of where I need to be. I do wish I could give you a better recap of the past four months. I'm hoping that with this post, I'll be able to get back into the swing of blogging again. I do miss it immensely. I think one thing I need to get over is that Leicester and my experiences here are very different and perhaps not as blog-able as the experiences I had in Durham. Maybe some of the novelty of living in a new country has worn off, definitely a PhD is an altogether different beast, and sadly, I've just not got the time or money to try out a lot of new experiences here. With that being said, I do hope you'll try to stick with me and my erratic updates and I'll do my best to dig up some interesting, funny, and engaging stories over the next couple weeks. 

King Under the Carpark

How often in a lifetime does it happen that one of the world’s baffling mysteries is solved? We wait for centuries sometimes to discover answers to the most titillating intrigues. What really happened to Amelia Earhart? Who precisely was Jack the Ripper? What did happen to Jimmy Hoffa? We play with these questions; delighting in turning over the facts and wondering if perhaps we could unlock the answers given half the chance.

When the news of the discovery of a skeleton in a carpark reached me in the US two years ago, I didn’t dare hope that perhaps one of those mysteries would be answered. Could the skeleton with the severe scoliosis actually be the remains of King Richard III? The thought ignited my imagination not least of which because I had only just applied to the University of Leicester to do my Master’s in Museum Studies. I am a daydreamer by trade and my mind began to weave fantastic scenarios in which I somehow got the chance to be involved in the Richard III project. Those dreams were dashed when I wasn’t accepted into the programme. Rather, I wound up in a small city in the north of England where I had one of the most exciting and fulfilling years I have ever known. I soon forgot my dreams about Richard III, though never my enthusiasm. When it was announced that the DNA results were conclusive, I was beyond thrilled. It was truly an amazing time to be in an archaeology department even one not directly involved with the project. I had resigned myself to reading about Richard III and watching television programmes about the remarkable King under the Carpark. I never thought my path would intersect with it. Then, one day, I received an email saying I had been accepted to the University of Leicester for a PhD.

The currents of life are strange indeed. We can sometimes manoeuvre ourselves to the shores we most desire but other times, we seem to be but travellers bound for hidden destinations. It just happened that one of those currents would lead me to be in Leicester during the reinterment of the long lost King of England.

In the weeks leading up the festivities, workmen were busy repainting bollards, cleaning the streets, and hanging banners. Leicester was determined to put her best foot forward when the world turned its eyes on her. Abandoned store fronts on the processional route were spruced up and even the weather had seemed to improve just for the occasion.

I was in the midst of the busiest month yet since starting my degree. I had two major papers due within two weeks of each other and I had fallen behind on my reading. I had thankfully finished my first paper for my supervisor three days ahead of schedule and decided to give myself a few days respite before plunging back into the fray. The upcoming weekend would be full of once in a lifetime events. There was a solar eclipse on Friday and Sunday the remains of the King would be processed through Leicestershire and the city.

I began planning my strategy for the day. In the morning, the University was holding a ceremony and the coffin would begin its final journey through the countryside before ending up at the cathedral. I decided to attend in the morning and then return to the High Street by 17.00 to claim a spot along the procession route.

The whole day would prove to be one of the most surreal I have ever passed.

That morning I woke later than usual. I took my time getting ready and had a leisurely breakfast of an omelette and veggie sausages. I had to forgo my morning tea as I had run out of milk the day before. Around 10.30 I began my now familiar walk to the university. The streets were quiet. Leicester herself seemed to be having a lazy morning as well.

It wasn't until I neared the university that I began to see hordes of people gathering for their glimpse of history.

As I neared the university, I began to see more and more people. They were gathering along the roads near the Charles Wilson building and along past the Student’s Union to the Fielding Johnson Building where the ceremony would take place. I decided against trying to push in close enough to see and hear the proceedings. It seemed better to get a front row view of the procession than to see the back of hundreds of people in the vain hope of hearing speeches.

As the time to the start of the procession neared, more and more people began to line up behind the metal barriers. There were students and townies and out-of-townies. There were families and children dressed as knights. There were people carrying the flag of England and others carrying cups of tea. Finally, the first of the police motorcyclists rounded the corner. Everyone pushed to the barriers and as the hearse came into view, there was an odd hush that came over us all. The only sounds were the sounds of hundreds of cameras and phones snapping photographs.

After the procession had passed, a tide of humanity began to follow. It was as though we were being pulled after that vehicle with its mesmerising cargo. I passed the entrance to Victoria Park and turned homeward. On the way home I picked up some milk at the Tesco on the corner. It seemed on odd thing to do after one had just seen the coffin of a king, though I’m not entirely sure what one should do after an experience like that.

I returned to my flat and made myself a cup of Earl Gray. Though I had been wearing gloves, I was chilled and I wrapped my hands around the cup and let my blood thaw. I had four and a half hours before I had to head out again for the end of the procession. It somehow didn’t seem quite right watching a film and I knew I couldn’t concentrate on work so I picked up The Picture of Dorian Gray which I had started a few weeks ago and settled in. I read continuously and let Wilde’s word pour over me in a decadent cascade. I had quite lost myself when the alarm on my phone went off.

I grabbed my coat, hat, and gloves and tucked my camera into my bag. I had decided to make for the High Street which was one of the first places the procession would pass after a brief stop at St. Nicholas’s Church. As I headed down some back streets, I came to Gray Friars Lane. There were already a great horde of people standing along the route leading to the cathedral. I decided once again that it was better to stand and wait at the front of a barrier than to risk not having a good view at all.

It was still early on when I chose my spot on Gray Friar's. By the time the procession reached us, we were standing two or three deep in some places.

The atmosphere was different from the morning. It had the air of a parade or a carnival. People were carrying shopping bags and had brought their dogs. Children ate ice cream and waved flags. In the buildings along the road, residents poked their heads out thrilled for such a great view and warm surroundings to boot. More tiny knights were peppered through the crowd and parents with strollers tucked into the available spots. I wondered if the youngest ones would remember the day they saw the funeral procession of a long dead king. Many people were carrying white roses and I wished I had had the foresight to bring one.

As the crowd thickened, people began to stand in the windows of the shops to see over the crowds. Bobbies passed up and down the street and event staff with fingers in ear walked by. It seemed ages that we all waited.

Then there was a flash of sun across armour plating. The procession was nearing.

Mounted police were followed by two knights in full plate mail on horseback. Then four black horses came into view drawing the cart with King Richard III’s coffin. It is a strange thing the coffin of a king. I’m not sure what I thought it would look like. Dark mahogany maybe with intricate gold clasps. Something exquisite marking the wealth and power of the man who had once ruled over England. Instead it was simple and wooden. In death, does a king still need riches?

The procession carried on and people tossed their roses and snapped their photos. I stood and watched them turn the corner and pass out of sight.

I slowly walked the ten minutes back to my flat, my thoughts were a perfect whirl and I could make little sense of them. This man had been dead for five centuries. He was much maligned and even now I think it likely he was responsible for the deaths of the princes in the Tower. Yet, he was oddly compelling, this king. But then, we spend too much time on kings, royals, those in power. We trace history through the wars they have made others fight rather than through the stories of those like ourselves. Why do we continue to venerate them? Still, I felt it important to be there. I felt it a good thing to be there. This odd king with the crooked back who had lain under a carpark for centuries had captured my imagination two years ago. At some point he had ceased to be a figure on the page of a history book and had himself become just a man to me. Maybe that is the real lesson from history. These men, far from being worshiped, should be thought of just as men. Take them from our currency, remove the exaggerated monuments erected in their memory. Look on them simply as flawed, complicated, and human.

I made myself another cup of tea and settled in to finish my book. 

Partial Eclipse of my Heart

The moon is still not completely clear of the sun in the UK but I wanted to upload some of my photos and get out my thoughts on the whole experience. 

I suppose the first thing I should say is that my tea box pinhole viewer worked pretty well. It took me a couple tries to line it up and for a moment or two I thought I had done something wrong, but once I saw that round speck of light, I got fairly excited. 

I decided to watch the celestial event from the garden just outside my flat. I had a great view there and I was near enough to grab a cup of tea if I needed one. I went out just before 8:26 in the morning when the eclipse was due to start.

I'm really sorry about the blurriness but both my camera and my phone were quite unhappy trying to adequately capture this experience. If you want to see impressive photos do a Google search.

Ever so slowly, that round dot of light started to be squished into a sliver. It was pretty cool to watch. After about twenty minutes some of the maintenance and cleaning crew for my building started to walk by. Everyone wanted to take a glimpse through the viewer. A solar eclipse is a great way to meet people.

As we neared the height of the eclipse, other watchers began to filter into the garden. Some had protective glasses, others were using cards, and still another was watching from the fourth floor using a telescope.

Again, sorry for the blurriness but I think you get the idea.

At 9:32 the sun was nearly covered completely by the moon. I took off my sunglasses and it was the oddest thing. The quality of the sunlight had changed drastically. It wasn't a warm yellow but a cool, greenish sort of light. For me, that was the coolest part of the experience. Everything seemed odd in that light and I could understand why my ancestors viewed eclipses as terrifying. That sickly green light isn't something I'll forget, it was pretty amazing.

After about ten more minutes, folks began to head back inside. The shadow over the dot of light in my viewer had crossed over and was slowly disappearing. 

I had been standing outside for an hour and a half and despite it being the first day of spring, my hands were numb with the cold. I headed indoors and to my delight, I could still check on the eclipse from my window. I poured myself a cup of earl grey and began to look back over my photos.

I am thrilled to bits I finally got to experience a solar eclipse. I find it bizarrely difficult to capture my thoughts about it. In some ways, it exceeded my expectations. That incredible change in the quality of light was beyond fascinating. Even as I type this, there is still a hint of green in the yellow rays coming through my window. In other ways, it was a little less amazing than I wanted it to be. Watching it through a pinhole viewer was cool, but I think next time I'd like to see it with my own eyes. I couldn't shake the nearly uncontrollable desire to turn around and see the moon over the sun for myself. It's a very human thing to want to see for oneself. It makes the experience that much more real. I felt a bit like Perseus at times, only able to see Medusa through a polished shield. I've often wondered as I've read that myth and watched Clash of the Titans (the original one of course) if I would have the restraint not to look at the Gorgon. I suppose today proves I would, but it doesn't mean that I wouldn't love the opportunity to sneak a peek and risk being turned to stone. Perhaps in another twenty-one years I'll get that chance.

For now, I think I'll take one last look...

Crafting for SCIENCE!

Greetings and welcome to a very special edition of Postcards from Leicester.

I can't tell you how excited I am that there will be a partial solar eclipse tomorrow morning. I have a warm place in my heart and perhaps more accurately my brain for science and cosmology and astrophysics more especially. The work of Stephen Hawking, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Michio Kaku, and Brian Cox utterly fascinate me. I read A Brief History of Time three years ago and couldn't put it down. I've watched Cosmos both with Carl Sagan (with whom I share a birthday) and NdG. I honestly cannot get enough of the universe. I've said on a few occasions if there is a second life after this one, I hope to be an astrophysicist with a specialty to do with time. I probably sound quite quaint to actual experts in the field but I'm a serious fan girl.

That being said when I found out I would be able to see a partial solar eclipse I was ecstatic. There has only been one other occasion for me to see a solar eclipse and that time my hopes were dashed, not by inclement weather or severe illness. No, my hopes were dashed by my fifth grade teacher.

Yes. I will let that sink in for a moment.

I was ten years old and I can still remember the palpable anticipation in the air. It was all over the news. This was to be a once in a lifetime event, something that wouldn't happen for a long time to come. Our whole school was buzzing with excitement. Teachers were throwing out the curriculum in favour of teaching solar science, classes were busy crafting pinhole viewers in order to safely view the event. That is, every class except for mine. My teacher had, in an almost pathological way, refused to acknowledge anything having to do with the impending cosmological phenomenon. She got angry whenever one of us asked if we would be making viewers or if we could go and watch. 

I'll never forget the morning of the eclipse. My older brother, Jimmy had handed me a magnifying glass and a piece of paper and showed me how to use them to see the eclipse. I stowed them in my backpack in case Mrs. Nastypants changed her mind. I remember getting to school and showing my friend and both of us hoping we might have the chance to use them.

That afternoon we heard all of the classes passing by our room heading outside with their viewers in hand. I looked at the clock and realised it had already started. One of the boys went to the window trying to see and our teacher brutally told him to get back in his seat. We were all quiet, disappointed, and deeply unhappy. I've never forgiven her for that day. I dare say no one in that class has.

But enough of sad stories. Twenty-one years later, I finally got to make my own pinhole viewer and tomorrow morning, weather permitting, I'm going to get my chance to see an event of cosmic proportions. In celebration of this, please enjoy the following tutorial so you can make your own pinhole viewer.

How to Make a (MOST ENGLISH) Pinhole Viewer

What you will need:

You will need an empty tea box (this is what makes it English). I used Tesco finest brand Earl Grey to give my viewer that touch of finery, but even a box of PG Tips will do the trick. Some kitchen foil, white paper, a box cutter (that's the orange thing in the photo, it was the best I had), scissors, a needle (or push pin), and sellotape!

I find it also helps when doing crafty things to have a bottle of wine on hand.

Step 1: Pour a glass of wine.

Step 2: Cut a hole in your tea box. 

You want the hole to be about 3 x 3 cm (for you American crafters that's 3 x 3 cm. Come on, join the rest of the world and use the Metric system already).

Step 3: Cover the hole you've just made with foil.

Tape the foil over the hole you just cut. If you are going for a sleeker looking viewer you can try taping the foil on the inside of the box, but seriously, who has time for that?

Step 4: Using a round needle or push pin, pierce the centre of the foil.

The sunlight will go through the hole and project onto the opposite side of the box. This is how you get to see the eclipse. 

Step 5: Cut a piece of white paper to fit on the inside of your box.

The paper will act as a screen and only needs to be about 4 x 4 cm. 

Step 6: Tape the paper to the inside of your box opposite to the end with the foil.

Not too much to say about this. Tape your paper to the inside and move on. No sense in wallowing in it.

Step 7: Cut a viewing hole near to the end where you've taped the paper.

You can see the paper through the hole I've just cut. This is how you will view the eclipse. 

Step 8: Tape up the rest of the box.

I don't really have to explain this part, right?

Step 9: Congratulate yourself on making your very own pinhole viewer!

When you go to use it, line up the box using its shadow. You should see a tiny dot of light through the viewing hole. That it the sun! (Or in the case of this photo, my desk lamp.) You will be able to watch the moon cover the sun without turning your retinas to ashes. You're welcome. 

Well that's all there is to it! I'm hoping to be able to post an entry tomorrow about my triumphant solar eclipse viewing. Stay tuned and don't forget to look at the stars once in a while and dream a bit of the cosmos. 

That's how we roll...

Each city has a unique flavour intrinsic and at times strangely tangible. That flavour is wrapped up in the people, architecture, streets, gardens, homes, and life of the city. You breathe it in and it envelopes you and you become part of it. As a slight synesthesiac, each place I’ve visited is represented not only by this feeling, this flavour, but also by colour.

New York is a fast pulsating cascade of silver with some bright green streaks. Philadelphia is a dripping, meandering brownish red. Amsterdam is the warmest milky cream. Copenhagen is a careless, relaxed yellow-orange. Durham is a smooth flowing deep blue.

Then there is Leicester.

Leicester is a reddish dark grey, heavier on the grey. It’s a bit of a difficult one for me to really describe. It isn’t exuberant like New York, it isn’t relaxed like Copenhagen. It’s a bit confused, as though it isn’t quite sure what it is or what it wants to be. It’s historical, but it’s modern. It’s English, but it’s incredibly diverse. It’s a university city, but it remains an industrial city at heart. What even is Leicester?

I can’t answer that question really. Not yet anyway. Maybe it isn’t a question that ever needs an answer. Though as an academic and researcher, I feel compelled to get to the bottom of this place, to understand it and to know it; to breathe it in and allow it to envelope me and so that I can become a part of it.

As part of this endeavour I decided that it would be good to take in some local entertainment. What is it that people do for fun around here on the weekend? It just so happened that my friend and fellow PhD in arms, Oonagh had an answer.

“Sunday morning at 10:00 you know they’re blowing up the building at the end of New Walk,” she confided over Facebook messenger only a few nights ago. “Want to go watch?”

How could I resist a demolition only three blocks from my flat? Images of the grandest explosions flashed through my mind (my brain is brilliant at escalating reality to the realms of the most absurd hyperbole). The council had the announcement up on their website so that people who wanted to go have a watch would know where the exclusion grounds were and about what time the event would kick off.

“Absolutely,” I typed.

“Great. I’ve got some inside information that it’s going to blow at 10:00am. The website gives some vague window, but I know a guy,” Oonagh confided.

I laughed as I read. We made plans to meet at my flat at 9:45 Sunday morning, and walk down to New Walk to get a good vantage point.

The condemned on its last full day of existence. It was a shockingly beautiful day here and so I went for a walk and decided to capture it one last time before the fall.

Sunday morning rolled around and after having a most excellent (if I do say so myself) tomato basil and cheese omelette and cup of tea, I settled in to tackle some potential articles for my Qualitative Methodology course. I was halfway through a real corker (read: sarcasm) when I looked up and noticed it was already 9:40. I quickly tossed on my boots and coat and sent Oonagh a text. She was running a bit late so I slowly started the walk on my own. I had rounded the corner and began heading past DeMontfort University when I realised the doomed building lay dead ahead. I had never noticed it before on my walks and I laughed to myself to think I certainly wouldn’t ever notice it again.

“Jen!”

I turned around and saw Oonagh half walking half jogging just across the street.

“Hey you made it!” I replied.

We chatted a bit about her morning adventures and decided that we should stay where we were as the view was pretty great. The people of Leicester had come out to witness this most exciting event. Cars had pulled up at the bollards and people with cameras and families lined the walk to get a good view of the proceedings.

It was five to ten and I decided if I was going to get a video, I had better start rolling as timing on these sorts of things is never certain. Then only a minute or so later we heard a BOOM and what felt like thirty seconds after the floors of the building began to collapse in a perfect domino of dust and concrete. It was brilliant. It was probably the most exciting thing I had seen in Leicester. In less than twenty seconds, we were staring at empty sky where once a building had stood. A building I had passed every day since moving to the city.

Sorry for the expletives...it was exciting.

Oonagh and I smiled and with the rest of the voyeurs of Leicester we turned and headed back to our daily lives.

So in this first experiment about understanding the essence of Leicester what has this researcher discovered?

In Leicester, we build things and then we blow them up. That’s entertainment. 

Postcards from Cambridge

So one of the great things about living in Leicester is how close it is to other places. Now I realise that could be interpreted as, "one of the great things about Leicester is that you can leave it." It's not quite what I intended, but, if I'm perfectly honest, I haven't really warmed to my new city yet. Partly this is due to being thrown into the proverbial deep end with my PhD. It's difficult to explore a new place when you're fighting off impostor syndrome and getting to grips with the inner workings of the university library. Another reason I haven't really seen the sights is that it has been bitterly cold over here. We had a couple of light snows, but it is always freezing here, especially on the gray days which is pretty much always. So, I decided to escape some of the stresses (if not the cold) and visit some friends who had relatively recently moved to Cambridge. I disguised this as a research trip to attend a conference but I should say, I only attended the first half of the first day of the conference. What can I say? The lure of Cambridge was too powerful a force!

On my way to Leicester Rail Station, I happened to pass this. Now either the Doctor has fixed the chameleon circuit or someone was having fun with their company name. (I think the former is the most plausible).

I arrived in Cambridge Thursday night and met Emily and Jeremy at Cambridge Rail Station. We went out for a nice Italian dinner and some drinks at a local pub. It was wonderful catching up with them. I had seen Jeremy a month ago at congregation, but it had been six months since I had last seen Emily. She was graciously putting me up for the weekend so we had ample time to get up to speed with each other's lives. When we left the pub it was dark, I couldn't really get a sense for Cambridge that night (and photographs weren't a possibility). It wasn't until the next morning on my way to the conference that I got to see the city in all its glory.

One of the best things about my time in Cambridge was the blue sky. Leicester has been so gray lately that seeing the gorgeous morning sky on my walk put me in a great mood. This is St. Luke's Church which I passed to get to the city centre.

I cannot describe the thrill I experienced when I rounded the corner and was met with this amazing view. This is King's College and (in my humble opinion) it is easily the most impressive of the 31 colleges in Cambridge. The enormous cathedral-like building is King's College Chapel. (Yes, it's a chapel not a cathedral), while the gate to the college is sort of behind and next to it. I think the morning sun made the stonework even more beautiful than it already was.

This little post-it space invader was in one of the windows of the Alison Richard Building where the conference was being held. Not only was this little guy exciting, but the Stephen Hawking Building was just next door. I must admit to having an intense wave of fangirl excitement when I passed it. Unfortunately, there were no actual Stephen Hawking sightings on this visit. 

After the morning session had concluded, I took the scenic route back to the city centre to meet Emily for lunch. I got some more lovely views of the backs of some of the colleges and even cut through Clare College. I must say that I had been starved for beautiful architecture and green lawns living in Leicester. Cambridge had plenty of both to make up the difference.

Here is the back of King's College. You can see the other side of the Chapel and the lovely green lawn. It was all I could do not to remove my shoes and frolic about on it. I'm sure one of the porters would have intervened (or possibly joined in).

Punting. Nothing is more Cambridge than punting on the River Cam. I'll talk more about that a little later on.

I wish the River Soar back in Leicester looked as picturesque as the River Cam does here. This looks out on the Garret Hostel Bridge affectionately referred to as Orgasm Bridge by some of the students. This is apparently due to how steep it is. Cyclists pedaling up to the top often let out a sigh of exhausted relief when they reach the summit. This is heard often (so they say) by students working in the Jerwood Library. (That's the angular brick building just next to the bridge). 

Here is Market Square just off of King's Parade. That's one of the things I missed about the UK: the indoor/outdoor markets. They really are quite fun to visit and a great place to get local produce as well as some tourist trap souvenirs. Seeing the one in Cambridge reminded me that I have yet to check out the Leicester Market. I really must do that!

Emily and I had a lovely lunch at a little Thai place in the city. I decided to spend the rest of the afternoon exploring some of the museums around the area before meeting her at her department in the zoology building for happy hour and game night. I should say that I had did have the best of intentions to return to the conference, but the siren call of cobblestones, rich architecture, and hidden wonders had me crashing on the shores of Hooky-ville in no time.


The first museum I visited was the Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. For some reason, I neglected to take any photos here! (I really must get better at this whole photo-blog thing.) It was a fairly typical university museum, not unlike the Oriental Museum in Durham or Palace Green Library. Already I could tell that the PhD studies had begun to take hold. I was looking at the exhibits and analysing them based on my research. I was delighted to stumble across a video installation about refugees who had come to East Anglia over the past fifty years. One on one interviews about their experiences of coming to a new country, being accepted (or not) but their new neighbours and trying to start a new life captivated me. I wished there had been more projects like that one evidenced in the galleries. The screen was so hidden in a corner, I wondered how many people had noticed it and had taken the time to watch it. I wondered if it had given people something to think about and whether it had made a difference to their views on immigrants and refugees.

Wait.

I had come here to relax, not to do more work and thinking! I finished my wander through the gallery, my head still buzzing with questions despite my best efforts to turn off my work brain. Emily had mentioned that there were dinosaurs in the building next to the MAA. She knew just how to hook me and I headed toward the Sedgwick Museum. I had no trouble taking photos in this museum. (I blame the dinos.)

Metal Skeleton of a T-Rex! This place is going to be great! 

Dino Skull! Alright, I'll try to be more descriptive. The Sedwick is really interesting because it has some really outdated displays. Displays were a whole bunch of bones, fossils, shells, or rocks are thrown together in typologies with very little explanation for visitors. Those sort of displays are really meant for experts in the field to come and do research. The cool thing about it is that there are a few spaces where they have turned the old cabinets into more modern visitor-friendly displays. Fewer specimens and more explanation. It's a really tiny museum, and despite some of its short comings, I really loved it. Also....DINOSAURS!

Here's the other cool thing about the Sedgwick. They have some of the objects collected by Charles Darwin during his voyage on the HMS Beagle. That section of the museum is done very nicely and takes the visitor through Darwin's early years right on up to his impact on scientists today. I think I was most intrigued to find his signature on the inside cover of a book on display. 

Also....VELOCIRAPTOR! (Okay, full disclosure, I'm not sure if this is a velociraptor or another kind of raptor. It's still cool though.)

After purchasing a few goodies from the Sedgwick gift shop which may or may not have included a little soapstone T-Rex carving, I decided to end my tour of Cambridge museums with a brief stop at the Fitzwilliam. The Fitz is a very well known art museum. They have a range of exhibitions featuring artefacts from ancient Egypt to decorative porcelain figurines (an entire gallery of them). I arrived about thirty minutes before closing so I had very little time to take it all in. Walking through the Ancient Rome and Egyptian galleries reminded me so much of the Philadelphia Art Museum. I've always felt something odd about art galleries and museums like these. It's like the objects have been divorced from their natural settings, placed within glass cases against minimalist white walls, and suddenly they don't speak anymore. It's a very personal thing that kind of reaction and museum folk differ in their responses to it. On the one hand, I do understand that all museums even those in historic places have an element of un-naturalness. And sometimes, I do find that some of the objects stand out when placed in that kind of setting. But sometimes I look at those Egyptian bronze figurines, like the one I worked on for my artefact report last year and I wonder if it wouldn't be better displayed in a heap of a hundred other bronze figurines as maybe it would have appeared at an offering site. I do apologise, I'm getting all museum professional again.

So right now the Fitz has been in the news because of the discovery of two possible Michelangelo bronzes in their collections. This is a pretty big deal as it was thought that none of his bronzes existed anymore. I had just five minutes before the museum closed to get a look at them. To be honest, I sort of stumbled across them in the Italian gallery while I was trying to find the exit. I'm so glad I did get to see them though. They are really beautiful.

I apologise for the low quality of this image but I was using my phone to take the picture and I was in a bit of a rush. So here is one of the bronzes I was talking about. There is a second similar (but not identical) one displayed right next to it. It would be amazing if the research is confirmed and these are the only two Micelangelo bronzes. It would be even more amazing if we discover more of his bronzes laying in other museum collections somewhere else.

After I was kicked out of the Fitz, I walked through the darkening streets of Cambridge toward the department of zoology. Emily was working as a conservator there and she had invited Jeremy and I to the department's happy hour and games night. It was really amazing to see all of the work she has been doing and to have a wonder around the lab. In some ways I envied her. She had some pretty cool projects and they were so tangible. Meanwhile, I'd been grappling with elusive ideas of activist museums since I had gotten to England. She introduced me to folks who worked in the lab and at the museums (some of which I had been to only that afternoon).

Happy hour was held in the tea room on the New Museum Site. There were a variety of beers, ciders, and wine coolers for purchase as well as some snacks. We all sat around a table and then someone produced Cards Against Humanity. I had heard tell of this game and have been anticipating its appearance on this season of Wil Wheaton's Tabletop. I was happy I would finally get to play it, although playing it with folks you don't know is a bit tricky. Jeremy showed up after work when we were about halfway through the deck and already two drinks ahead. I managed to win three rounds though I was no where near as successful as some of the others. We went through the entire deck and had a tie breaker round between the two highest scorers.

Afterwards, Emily, Jeremy and I went to the Castle Inn for a late dinner and some pints. I felt a perfect wave of happiness as we sat chatting about who could even remember. If there was one thing I had learned last year it was how important my friendships were to me. Spending the weekend with friends who know you so well is probably the best antiseptic to stress and loneliness there is.



The next morning, Emily and I decided to go into the city centre and visit some of the colleges and perhaps go punting. As we walked over the Magdalene Bridge, we were accosted by a man selling punting trips down the river. Between us, Emily and I managed to haggle a good price. Alright, he offered us a discount which we jumped on like a pair of American tourists. As we headed towards the coffee van parked on the plaza we wondered if we could have talked him down further.


Now, punting. I have a very specific image of punting in Cambridge which has been seared into my memory since I was a child. I think I may have mentioned I'm a fan of Doctor Who. Before visiting, every time someone mentioned Cambridge I always thought of Tom Backer in his scarf, punting down the River Cam with Lala Ward as Romana reclining in the boat. It has always been something I've wanted to do.

Emily and I were met by a fresh-faced sixth-former called Matt. He was to be our guide and we were to have the boat to ourselves and, as it turned out, the river to ourselves, at least for most of the trip.

Looking down the River Cam toward the dock where we set off. 

We had the entire boat to ourselves which was pretty fantastic. Matt took his time and we got to ask a bunch of questions and generally had a very nice time indeed. One of the most exciting things about our voyage was when I plucked an abandoned pole from the river that was a positive hazard to navigation. We returned to the dock heroes.

This is my favourite bridge. It's called the Bridge of Sighs as it resembles a bridge of the same name in Venice. That particular crossing was given its name because it links to a prison and so convicts on their way to the clink would sigh as they took their last look on the free world. This one links parts of St. John's College. I can well imagine students sighing in a similar fashion on their way to pick up exam results.

I'm afraid I didn't get a fantastic picture of Mathematical Bridge, but here it is anyway. It wasn't designed by Isaac Newton as it is popularly believed but by William Etheridge. You can also see a kayaker here enjoying a morning...kayak. 

Ah....this is the life!

Emily and I next went to St. John's College. On our tour, Matt had told us of the immense rivalry between Trinity College and St. John's and as I can't help but root for the underdog (if a highly respected and wealthy university college could in anyway be considered an underdog) I began to favour St. John's. This also meant I got to cross the Bridge of Sighs.

We started our tour of St. John's in the chapel. We were lucky enough to have an organist rehearsing while we were in there. It's a really lovely space.

See what I mean?

This eagle is the only part of St. John's that is not symmetrical. Matt told us that the architect suffered from such severe OCD that when a student opened a window on one side of the building, he insisted that the corresponding window on the other side was opened in order to maintain his perfect symmetry. This eagle was apparently added after his death.

An intrepid adventurer on the Bridge of Sighs.

That evening I met up with Jeremy in town. Emily was meeting some friends for a birthday dinner so the two of us grabbed some pizzas before heading to The Eagle. It quickly became my favourite pub in Cambridge. It's one of the oldest public houses in the city and boasts that you can sit in the exact spot where Watson and Crick announced the discovery of DNA as well as the RAF ceiling where pilots signed their names during WWII. I think we managed to find the best seats in the house. We sat in a fireplace. That's right, a fireplace. Obviously it's no longer a working fireplace, but it was cozy and warm and offered a great view of the room. It felt a bit Hogwartian to be honest.


The next morning, I packed up my little rolling suitcase and Emily and I walked back into town. We had an amazing crepe breakfast at Benets right across from King's College.

Just look at that view! No! Not that one!

Yes. That one! Mmmmmm.

We walked past Mill Pond before heading to the rail station.

It had been a fantastic weekend. As the train pulled out of the station, I settled back in my seat and looked through all the photos I had taken, reliving each moment again. I was grinning stupidly when the ticket inspector came to punch my ticket.

When the train pulled into Leicester two hours later, I had the strangest sensation. I was home. When I wasn't looking, Leicester had become my home and even better, the sun was out as I walked down New Walk towards my flat. Sometimes, you have to leave a place to really understand what it means to you.