The Year of Many Ceremonies: Part Deux

The nights are drawing in and we've had to ditch the flip-flops, even if we're not quite reaching for the winter coats just yet. And with the turning of the seasons, so ends the wedding season for 2013, at least as far as this seasoned guest goes (because the wedding fair I'm going to for Naomi in two weeks' time obviously doesn't count...).

Since I last wrote to you, four more stunning couples have got hitched, tied the knot, said their vows and generally spent a day as the centre of attention poncing about in very attractive outfits.

First up (read: fourth up) in the glorious Peak District were Jo and Mike. This weekend was a little different from the others for a number of reasons - it was effectively a camping holiday in Edale with a wedding thrown in; the wedding was at 4 o'clock on the Saturday, giving us a lovely long morning walking (and paddling!) by the Ladybower reservoir; and it was the first wedding at which someone actually raised an objection to the service...but luckily, it was just a sheep who was feeling a bit cranky (and comedic) in a field near the venue. Most interestingly for a British wedding, there was a strong feminist flavour to the day - the bride and groom entered together, gave a speech together, both the mothers got their turn to talk and the bridesmaids added their heartfelt two penn'orth to the best man's traditionally saucy ode to the groom. And the fun was equally shared out across the event too, with some of the best shapes I have ever seen being pulled without compunction on the dance floor later - and not just to Gangnam Style! With a toddle up to Hollins Cross the next day, my feet headed back to York in a somewhat parlous state, but my smile wasn't going anywhere.

From walking-booted at midday...

To suited-and-booted by 3pm! And yes,
I got ready in that tent.
Photos by Harry Cross

Just a couple of weeks later, this intrepid wedding connoisseuse (I think I can upgrade myself here!) was off down to the Surrey/Hampshire/Sussex border for the wedding of Emma and Gaz. Whilst getting into my finery between trains at London Waterloo might have been a lowlight (I had to travel down from York the day of the wedding itself...), the rest of the day was positively fairytale.

That's happiness. Love...and cake.
Photo by Matt Moore

The bride's awesome organisation made the whole day seamless, and her homemade decorations were stunning - almost as stunning as the lady herself. Not a single element went unconsidered - the fancy dress box went down particularly well - and as the sun went down, we all retired to our tents thoroughly satisfied.

OK...the fancy dress box went down particularly well with ME.
Photo by Emma Hawkins

Unfortunately, as in the first half of the season, there was one wedding which I couldn't make, but Catherine and Daniel had an absolute stunner of a day here in York - the culmination of a helluva lot of work behind the scenes (aren't all weddings, and indeed marriages?) but which paid off in style. But if you want to read about it from the bride herself, Catherine's also written down her musings on marriage here.

Joyful dancing times, in a dress that Catherine's mother made!
Photo by Claire Laing

And finally, my big day arrived at Fliss and Ant's wedding on 4th October back in Brum. Sorry, did I say my big day?! Well, this was my turn at being part of the wedding party, privileged as I was to be asked by Fliss to be her bridesmaid.

Coming soon: Return of the Gigantic Bridesmaid
(it's all in the perspective, of course)
Photo by Phoebe Pyke

And an easier job there couldn't have been - Fliss was the epitome of brideliness, taking it all calmly in her stride, greeting everyone there at the day with grace, and generally being the most low-demand bride there's ever been.

She also took a face-full of confetti pretty well!
Photo by Jayne Cole

Unsurprisingly, everyone else also felt wonderfully at ease, and the day went hitchless (apart from the getting hitched) and will live long in the memories of everyone who was there.

Beautiful moments abounded, like this impromptu daddy-daughter dance
Photo by Lucy Glenn

So there we have it. Eight fabulous couples with sixteen fabulous lives ahead of them. And just in case you think I'm a teal-deer:

Most wedding-magazine-worthy aesthetic: The Nicholls
Most personal touches (and crazy guests): The Walshes
Most exotic location: The Andersson-Bianchis
Most perfect method of transport from church to venue: The Dickenses
Best speeches: The Stotts (plus wedding party!)
Most excellent little touches: The Thurtles
Best dress effort: The Laings
Best bridesmaids (amongst other things...) The Evanses

Congratulations to all and a million, million best wishes for the rest of your lives together - I hope I will be around to celebrate your anniversaries with you all!

However, the last words, as in the previous post, belong to my great uncle, Herbert Taylor Railton. We laid him to rest with his lovely wife Doreen on 21st August in Hawarden cemetery, and here's the eulogy which I had the privilege to deliver that day:

One of my earliest memories of my Great Uncle Herbert is of him trying to teach my mum how to grow fuchsia bushes. He never did manage to pass his green-fingered-ness on to her – which would have been some feat, if we’re fair to him – but there is in our garden a very hardy fuchsia bush which he gave to my mum, which loses its flowers every winter and blooms again in the springtime.

In a lot of ways, Herbert was a very hardy fuchsia bush himself. Life wasn’t necessarily always easy, but he was always ready with a bright smile and a quick quip to cheer anyone up, just like those bright blooms do. Diane tells us that she once took him to Tesco in Broughton, where she noticed the bilingual signage. Given that uncle Herbert has lived in Wales for years (ever since they moved the border!) she asked him whether he had picked up any Welsh. He replied “No, I leave them on the floor.” He would mercilessly tease his younger sisters, particularly my Nanna, and would cheat like you wouldn’t believe at Christmas party games, most notably blatantly holding the Jenga tower with one hand whilst taking his turn with the other. He was always readily forgiven, however, because who could stay angry when he smiled at you in that shy, slightly lopsided way?

One story that would always raise a laugh came from his childhood. My Nanna informs me that there was a comic strip in the Liverpool newspapers about a mischievous little boy named Twinkie. I don’t know what Herbert did to deserve this, but he was nicknamed Twinkie after this cartoon, and everyone called him ‘Twinkie Railton’ to the point that he didn’t realise his name was actually Herbert until he was about 12. He always said that he was terribly disappointed about this…

He was a very busy and independent person, much like the hardy fuchsia – he enjoyed driving and did so until very recently, and he was a keen and successful crown green bowler. He wasn’t at all showy or demonstrative (unlike those gaudy fuchsia blooms) – but I remember him proudly showing us a picture of himself from the Chester papers in full flow in a bowls match. As you would expect, this was not done to show off his bowling prowess – it was meant to show us that the floppy summer hat that he’d worn to that day’s barbecue was, in fact, older than me.

Stylish headgear was something of a theme with Uncle Herbert – he would always wear a smart flat cap (Kangol no less, very fashionable) to top off the rest of his unerringly smart attire, and he was always first on with the Christmas cracker crowns too. My dad always described Herbert as a true gentleman and he both dressed for and acted this role effortlessly. He could converse on a huge range of topics, though he was most knowledgeable about aeroplanes and aeronautics, and would always speak in a very gentle voice with a distinctive Liverpool accent – like the rest of his family, his roots in Liverpool never left him.

Being the age I am, I only ever knew Uncle Herbert in the autumn of his life – a fabulous long, cool autumn in glorious Technicolor filled with moments like the few I have shared with you today. His winter came on fast, and he has now left us, but I am sure, like the fuchsia in our garden, he will bloom and is already blooming again with Doreen in a much better place than the one he has left.

God bless, Uncle Herbert, and sleep well.

Fuchsias. Photo from fanpop.com

The year of many ceremonies: The half-way report

Oh dear. Two months have passed since I have seen fit to post anything - I am part of that innumerable band of flighty bloggers who promise so much and then neglect to post anything at all. To my two readers out there, apologies.

The primary reason I have been AWOLFI (absent without leave from internet) is that I have been writing, rewriting, redrafting and regretting my confirmation document. Once called the upgrade procedure, now called the confirmation procedure for hardly any academic reason whatsoever (the UK Borders Agency, its forebears and its successors having far too much impact on university policy), in Linguistics we must now undergo this taster of viva fun within the first year of the PhD. This requires submission of 10,000 word standalone article and a couple of hours discussing and defending it in front of a beefed-up TAP (Thesis Advisory Panel). Hopefully draft #3 is well on its way to being something that κύριε καθηγητά will consider worthy of submission and then I can leave English adverbs behind for a little while to go onto something much wilder, like Korean evidentiality, perhaps.

There is a secondary reason for my lack of blogging, however. It seems that, when you turn 25, your life turns into an ever-rolling calendar of ceremonies.

You think I'm joking? I proffer you ten occasions for fancy-shoe-wearing and call your bluff.

I'm cheating slightly with that figure, but then again I'm not. The year started with a ceremony - the conferring of my Masters degree. Cue silliest-ceremony-outfit of the year, right off the bat:

I like my sleeves around my ankles and my robes the
colour of goose, please (this is York, after all)

Then, as winter dragged us along by the nose tempting us with the promise of spring, so arrived the Season of Nuptial Overload.

First of all, Emma and Will were married near Birmingham in a picture perfect ceremony to suit a picture perfect couple. Honestly, if they weren't such lovely people, you'd hate 'em because you'd want to be 'em so badly. Being gorgeous 'n' all they looked like this:

Disgustingly attractive. Photo from Emma Nicholl

While I looked something more like this:

Standard.
Photo by Danny Beusch

Then just three weeks later, Mel and Sean were tying the(mselves in) knot(s) in York. This wedding was absolutely caked in their weird and wonderful personalities, from the actor brother-cum-chauffeur to the Disney table names to a rather spectacular cake, designed and decorated by the fair hands of yours truly and the ever-colourful Miss Leach:

A snakes and ladders wedding cake. We were pretty chuffed with
ourselves. Photo by Hannah Leach

Once again - the bride and groom were radiant:

And terribly attentive - you can tell they meant every word! Photo by Christie Anderson

And I was a little disgraceful:

I fear a theme is forming.
Photo by Joseph Polex Wolf

Now, unfortunately I missed the wedding of the exceeding talented Maria and Gérald, but their Swedish wedding looked so pretty that I'm going to show it to you anyway (unmarred by my odd features):

Scandinavia is gorgeous, as are these people in it. Photo by Rhona Macleod

Then as August came sailing into our lives at the speed of an Americas Cup catamaran, Beckie and Toby sailed down the Cam in true Cantab style in their own chauffeured punt:

Now that's classy. Photo by Sarah Hansford

With the ceremony at St John's College and the reception at Queens', this wedding couldn't fail to be awe-inspiringly grand, but with all the sweet moments and personal touches of an intimate gathering of friends and family. No silly faces for this one (at least, none that were caught on camera), I'm sure you're terribly disappointed.

So that makes five ceremonies, or halfway through my season. Congratulations to all four happy couples - may the punt of marriage ever sail smoothly along the Cam of your lives together...that applies to all of you, with much love.

My next matrimonial misadventures will take me to the Peak District, a field in Hampshire, back up to York and a second trip to Birmingham. Before all of these, however, I have a more sombre duty to perform, as next week I will say goodbye to my very dear Great Uncle Herbert, who peacefully passed away yesterday at the age of 91. Good innings Uncle Herb, I hope you are sleeping well.

Officially Unconferenced

It's been exceedingly busy at my increasingly be-post-it-noted desk recently, which is my poor excuse for not posting much on here lately. However, there was a particularly unusual event in my schedule last Friday which took me, if not far from my desk, certainly far from my own little world of adverbs and trees.

In my library trainee days, I was intrigued by the range of events held within the profession to promote the sharing of ideas and networking in general. As well as traditional-style conferences with plenary speakers and open competition for speakers through abstract submission, the UK library world was also big on TeachMeets and Unconferences. In Unconferences, the agenda is set by the participants on the day, who bring along ideas of topics to discuss and sessions to run. This means that the topics discussed are those which the participants on the day really care about - so it seemed like a good way to get people with similar interests in the same place, talking and leading the conversation in the directions most interesting and important to the people involved.

So, as a result of a GSA forum and a proposal made over mince pies and mulled wine, I found myself along with Glyn (a compsci), Dima and Lucinda (both linguists) organising an Unconference for PhD students at York last Friday (7th June). You wouldn't think that such an event would require much organising, but after several meetings and plannings and a successful mini dry-run, we met up at the Berrick Saul hoping that other PhD students would come.

And come some did! Around 25 people turned up in the morning, with some leaving and some joining us after lunch, representing 12 departments and 14 nationalities*. This turned out to be a good sized group which generated conversation and debate whilst maintaining a safe and supportive environment.

As you'd imagine, the first task of the day was to create a programme. Lots of people provided lots of ideas, with the occasional overlap pointing us towards topics of common interest.

A fairly neon-bright programme

We started out with two parallel sessions on the supervisor-supervisee relationship and stress in academic life. A theme started which continued throughout the day - many of us saw the day as an opportunity to check that our experience was, if not 'normal', then at least tallying with others. This was certainly the case in the stress session, in which concerns about time management, deadlines, and new experience were seen to be shared across the departments. In contrast, we found that supervisor-supervisee meetings ranged from once a week to a couple of hours a term, with joint supervisors, external supervisors and supervisors across departments all featuring. Fortunately, in this session we were joined by Russ from the Research Development Team (RDT), who could help us out with his superior knowledge of the university regulations, not to mention years of working in universities and dealing with academics!

After refuelling with coffee and cake, Russ talked to the whole group about how the university supports researchers - however, it was fascinating to see how the focus of the session twisted and turned with the interests of the group. The discussion turned from supporting us as research students to support for postgraduates who teach (PGWTs), particularly with reference to all the different cultures that occur in universities. A discussion about whether PGWTs should be trained in and encouraged to teach in the 'British' style was countered with the view that we could all learn from different teaching cultures - unsurprisingly, given the multinational nature of the participant pool, the latter view was somewhat more popular! Along the same lines, it was noted that the undergraduate body that we teach is a diverse group, and it is important to be aware of different cultures when teaching - the example of the wide variation in essay writing styles between different language cultures was brought up (for more, see my post from April here). And what was considered to be a good way to become more sensitive to cultural differences? Taking every opportunity to spend time in universities abroad, either through the ERASMUS scheme, WUN network or university- and funding-specific openings was pushed and promoted by many, not only for cultural reasons but also to develop language skills and to take the chance to present and work with academics overseas.

What a productive Unconference looks like (note the coffee and cake at the side - crucial!)

Lunch gave us chance to chat (even) more informally, before a session of experience-sharing. On the topic of the confirmation process, most of the stories were, fortunately, pretty positive, so if we put in the work, we should get the results out. In theory. The thought of different stages in a PhD led us to thinking about how long we're expected to take to finish, how we plan to fund this time and whether part-time PhDs are a viable option once you're already started. Some useful ideas for funding, in particular looking to small societies and charities, were mooted, as well as the reassurance (?!) that only 1 in 20 students at York (5%!) finish their PhD within the 'normal' 3 years, with another 70% taking the next three months to submit. The pressure from HEFCE to finish within 3 years is apparently heavy on the university, though a few more months could well result in a stronger PhD. As a friend working at UniversitiesUK pointed out to me, a push for 4 year funding is currently on, which would ensure that more people are in the financial position to take more time both to enhance their research and their CVs in other ways through teaching, research assistantships and publishing more widely. We all agreed that we hope this comes into force for researchers coming after us.

Our final session tackled a thorny issue which we'd been skirting around, and frankly talking about anything else to avoid...the sequipedalian topic of procrastination. Funnily enough we all do it, in a manner of different ways, and our main concern was learning how to stop! Glyn came up with a particularly good solution - rather than writing a long to-do list of jobs without any times, attach a certain amount of time to each task, even if's only 5 minutes. That way, you're on a winner if you get a flash of inspiration and spend an hour on something, and if not, you've at least done 5 minutes on something you needed to attend to. Cashback. We then got very productive in tackling a specific question from Carolyn, a PhD student in History. She basically wanted to know where she could look for documents about couriering in the 18th century other than in government records, which she said weren't informative enough about day-to-day trading (which I can fully believe!) There were many forthcoming ideas from students both in the Arts and Humanities and in other disciplines, which hopefully will bear fruit for Carolyn in the future. Suggestions included the Merchant Adventurers Guilds and the archives of large longstanding companies, in case you were having a similar problem, dear reader!

And so, in a blaze of cake and coffee, the first York PhD Unconference was over. The feedback so far suggests that the participants enjoyed themselves and did get something out of the day - and enough people said that they would be interested in hearing about future events that we might hold to suggest there many be more Unconferences or Unconference-style sessions in York's future! If you're interested, keep an eye out on the brand-spanking-new York PhD Network web page - and as far as this one went, thanks so much to the PhD Network, the GSA Community Fund and the RDT for supporting us, not to mention all the people who actually took part.

I'm massively relieved that the day went well and really pleased to have been part of the event, not to mention having had the opportunity to work with 3 cracking co-organisers and a lot of lovely participants. If you're interested, you can find live-tweeting of the day under the hashtag #phdunconf from @Nufanglenesse, @CarolynInYork and a certain @DiscipulaEbor. Let us know what you think!


*As far I can remember, we welcomed students from English Literature, Psychology, History, Electronics, History of Art, Physics, Biology, Linguistics, Women's Studies, Social Policy, Computer Science and Law, representing Taiwan, Sweden, Hong Kong, South Africa, Singapore, Oman, Jordan, USA, Nigeria, Spain, the Netherlands, Switzerland, Germany and the UK. Sorry if I've missed anyone out!

Why reappropriating words can be a really bad idea

It seems that the University of York student body is in uproar at the moment, in every direction, over feminism.

FemSoc has failed to be ratified by YUSU, the status and purpose of the Women's Committee has been thrown into doubt, and now a proposed all-inclusive "Walk A Mile in Her Shoes" event at one of the colleges has been met with a mix of support, frustration and dissent.

I'm not here to talk about the first two - I have never had any contact with either group, largely because I a) don't have time because b) I'm a postgrad, not an undergrad and as such c) it's unclear whether YUSU really has much to do with me at all, whether it proclaims to or not.

Anyway. The third point is the interesting one, or at least the one which can be more easily broken down. Vanbrugh College, it seems, want to hold an event to campaign against sexual harassment. A march, to be precise. There are two famous types of march which have captured popular imagination; firstly the Toronto-born SlutWalk, and secondly the Walk A Mile in Her Shoes from just south of that North American border. The former was instigated and participated in by women; the latter inspired by the SlutWalk but participated in by men. Although the Vanbrugh event is open to everyone, regardless of gender identity, they have chosen the "Walk A Mile" label over "SlutWalk" as they perceived the latter to be potentially offensive for some.

Cue the (double) crux of the disagreement. There are those who feel that it isn't right that the male-oriented version of the event should be assumed instead of the female-oriented version, particularly as the male-oriented version often comes with men dressing as women, and people are worried about the effect of trans students, for example. This is certainly an important point, but not the one I want to focus on here.

The whole debate made me wonder about the language which feminists use, as this is the source of the trouble - if SlutWalk wasn't deemed potentially offensive, I'm quite sure that the Vanbrugh welfare team would have gone with that title in a heartbeat.

So let's think about bit about where the name came from and why it was chosen.

The name SlutWalk derives from the comments of a police constable in Toronto, who advised a group of young people to 'avoid dressing like a slut' if they wanted to stay safe. Apart from being a very vague and unsubstantiated piece of advice, it implies that victims, specifically females ones, are in some way to blame for anything which may befall them. As a response, 3,000 women marched on the streets of Toronto, not only to protest against the implications made by the police constable, but also to reclaim the word 'slut'.

The idea of 'reclaiming' or 'reappropriating' words is just a linguistic version of bringing elements of subcultures into the mainstream, or taking on formerly offensive words within the group that word was once used to oppress. It is a process which has no real 'beginning' - to name just one, the term 'Jesuit' was used derogatorily to denounce a certain form of practising Christianity which is now used to refer to members of the Society of Jesus, of whom current Pope Francis is one - though the most successful reappropriation of a term in recent times must be that of 'gay', which is now used (largely) non-offensively to refer to the homosexual community, both by members and non-members of that group.


The big issue here is that whilst feminism (as I understand it) is about promoting the cause of an oppressed group, this group is HUGE and heterogeneous and - what is more - modern feminism in particular aims to engage all people in a move to support women and to achieve gender equality.

All people. Around 7 billion of us. That is a bloomin' big audience by anyone's standards, with an awful lot of different and differing cultural and social traditions to take into account.

And this is where, I feel, the reappropriation of the word 'slut' falls down. There are a huge amount of other connotations attached to this word aside from the sexist ones, specificaly racist and slavery-related overtones, which might make certain groups of women extra-uneasy about adopting this deeply complex term. For a particularly eloquent and much fuller explanation of this, see this open letter from Black Women to the SlutWalk organisers. 

That's not the only problem. Take 'gay', for example - the word originally meant 'joyful and happy', and was used as such until well into the 20th Century, as demonstrated in the Sondheim song 'I Feel Pretty' from West Side Story:

I feel pretty, oh so pretty
I feel pretty, and witty, and gay,
And I pity any girl who isn't me today!

In contrast, the four phonemes used in such an order as to be pronounced as the word 'slut' have only been used in a derogatory manner* continually since its earliest attestation as denoting loose morals and promiscuity in 1402. This word has centuries of abuse and offence attached to it and is still being used as a strong insult today - why should we attempt to salvage it, instead of slapping it with a dagger symbol to show that it is obsolete, much like the ideas it denotes?

In fact, I am of the opinion that, in the pursuit of such a global cause, language which is generally classed as 'offensive' has no place. I do not own the cleanest mouth in the world, but there are contexts in which I refrain from swearing. Because crucially, if you want to appeal to groups outside of Western White women between the ages of 16 and 35, in which swearing may be considered offensive and unnecessary, then I strongly suggest giving it a go. And if you are convinced that swearing is the only way to show just how angry you are at injustice, take some lessons from this lady:

Now, to be clear: I in no way advocate any kind of language policing; I believe that differences should be discussed, and that banning any kind of term can stymie discussion and therefore understanding. I do not believe that any person should assume what another person will be offended by, though it is obviously important to take into account any information you have about what your addressee may find offensive. I even believe that 'some -ist' jokes can have their place - for example, jokes about disability, pronounced within close friendship groups, have been shown to normalise disability in groups in which a member has found themselves dealing with the loss of a limb, or paralysis, or another form of disability. I know this personally from my friendship groups, and I know this from other anecdotes, for example in the video below:
 

I in no way advocate language policing but, especially when you are claiming to represent half the population, if not the whole population of our planet, your language choice must be made carefully, and always with reference to two things: CONTENT and CONTEXT, namely what you say and who you're saying it to.

To get a bit linguistic about it, the philosopher and semanticist Robert Stalnaker said, in reference to the act of speaking:

Presuppositions [essentially, assumptions - RW] are what is taken by the speaker to be the COMMON GROUND of the participants in the conversation, what is treated as their COMMON KNOWLEDGE or MUTUAL KNOWLEDGE. [...The speaker] may presuppose any proposition that he finds convenient to assume for the purpose of the conversation, provided he is prepared to assume that his audience will assume it along with him.
(Stalnaker, 1979, p.323; original emphasis)**

In short - if you assume something about a term or a piece of information you use, you must be aware that your audience may not share the same assumptions. He goes on to note that if the audience rejects the speaker's proposition, their shared understanding will not change in the way intended by the speaker. It may stay the same...or the speaker and the audience might diverge. This is where Stalnaker leaves it - the consequences of this weren't his concern in his paper. But in our context, this could just drive yet another wedge in an increasingly unhappy and divided concept of modern feminism.

In fact, this is exactly where I think modern feminism is struggling. It's not an easy case to fix - there are a whole raft of issues included within feminism, before even considering the other concerns which intersect with it. However, if the largely white Western brand of feminism, which seems to have the largest voice at the moment, wants to claim to speak for all women (cf. Caitlin Moran's two-step test for being a feminist***), it's going to have to start listening much harder than it is doing at the moment.

P.S. Psst, Vanbrugh Welfare? Look to your imaginations and come up with your own name for your own inclusive event. Just sayin'.

---

*The OED suggests that 'slut' can be used as a playful term, but as this usage (their examples show) are only ever used in the context of very close relationships, usually parent to child, this usage is not relevant here.
** Stalnaker, Robert (1979). 'Assertion'. In: P. Cole, ed.,Syntax and Semantics 9: Pragmatics (pp.315-332). New York: Academic Press.
*** "So here is the quick way of working out if you're a feminist. Put your hand in your pants.
a) Do you have a vagina? and
b) Do you want to be in charge of it?
If you said 'yes' to both, then congratulations! You're a feminist."
Taken from Caitlin Moran (2011). How to Be A Woman. London: Ebury Press.

Why all academics could benefit from a second language

Nelson Mandela famously said, "If you speak to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you speak to him in his own language, that goes to his heart."*

I strongly believe that this is true, and that the same kind of tenet applies to literature; only in reading a work in the original language can you truly begin to understand what the author intended to do and to say with the raw materials available to her.

Of course, there will be times when learning another language may not be practicable or indeed possible - languages in remote or closed communities can be very difficult to access, or it may not be a great use of your time to learn Hungarian solely to read that one article with the tantalising keywords. However, by approaching cultures - and in that I include one's own - from a stolidly monolingual point of view, the scholar is bound to miss out both on varied viewpoints on his area of focus and on opportunities of a more enriching and potentially pecuniary nature.

Briefly, it is important to think about what it might mean to be multilingual in the context of academia. This may just refer to passive language skills such as reading and maybe listening, allowing the scholar to read and understand primary and, importantly, secondary literature on her topic. This sort of familiarity, if not fluency, in another language must be understood to 'count' as multilingualism, because even this opens up opportunities for the scholar in terms of the wealth of scholarship available to him. However, if the scholar is also able to converse in another language, whether it is a language of interest on a research level or another widely-spoken language such as French or German in which conferences and congresses may be held, this allows the scholar to form international links with other researchers and institutions on a more long-standing and personal level.

The practical benefits of multilingualism as explained above are clear. However, it fosters ways of thinking and of interpreting texts and discussions which are of great benefit to academics, especially in the arts and humanities.

For example, writing styles differ across cultures, which is often linked to language. As such, the Anglophone essay in which punchy Points, Examples and Explanations abound is quite at odds with the French dissertation whose conclusion is a gradually unveiled climatic moment, and is often perceived almost as an affront to a reader familiar with German Aufsätze, in which both example and detailed analysis co-occur in the same sentence. These stark structural differences, so closely entwined with specific languages, have in the past caused non-English ideas and texts to languish, untended certainly by the Anglo-American tradition, until decades after their first appearance - the French texts of Jacques Derrida being just one example**. In learning the language, the learner is often taught how to construct arguments within the culture linked to that language, or natural curiosity and motivation to read in the target language will also implicitly expose the learner to new ways of forming arguments.

Apart from writing styles, any multilingual will tell you that there are certain concepts that are best explained in a particular language; for example the Verfremdungseffekt is tied up with the German language in lots of ways, and serendipity is, for me, best explained in English. Terms in different languages come with different connotations, histories and assumptions which, if carefully considered, can greatly enrich an argument or a discussion in an effective and elegant way. Furthermore, many ideas, tropes and stories have been translated across cultures and which have been adapted in various ways. An ability to understand the idea's journey and history, from cross-cultural references to cross-linguistic wordplay, therefore allows the scholar a much deeper understanding of the idea under consideration.

This is just a short collection of my ideas on why multilingualism can benefit the scholar, and therefore academia more generally. I'd be really interested to hear what others think, and about any experiences you might have had learning languages or using them in an academic context.

*http://edition.cnn.com/2008/WORLD/africa/06/24/mandela.quotes/
**Thanks to Martine Hennard Dutheil for this observation

Identity crisis

For a little while now, I've felt that my internet handles haven't necessarily represented what I do. I don't expect them to represent who I am particularly deeply, as they're usually limited in characters and two or three words cannot a person summarise in any case (no matter how hard you might try on Twitter).

Anyway. My name, or anything much based on it, has never been an option seeing as it's a spectacularly common British name. I've worked through a fair few handles in my time, from obscure teenage references to a Jonny Wilkinson obsession to my most recent feuille blanche brand. I chose feuille blanche because a) French sounds pretty and b) I liked the idea of 'blank page' as suggesting that I'm open to ideas, that I'm somehow a work in progress in myself. This latter point is no less true than before, but it's not very clear, it's a bit funny to spell and, as an established French phrase, it's sometimes find it free as a username or web address. I also have a more established framework to work in now than when I set myself up on the blog and on Twitter - I belong to an institution, I have a role within that institution, and I'm very proud of both of these things.

So from now on, this blog can be found at discipulaeboracensis.blogspot.com. I know, it's a bit pretentious, but I couldn't help myself. The idea came when I was given my temporary "zoo" office at the université de Lausanne (on which more another time), so called because its large floor-to-ceiling windows face into the centre of the building, leaving the occupant feeling a little like a specimen on display (not that the passing students are the most interested watchers-of-academics, but still!). On wondering what my genus name would be, I eventually landed on discipula eboracensis - student (female, of course) of York.

So there it is. This blog is officially written by a student of York, at York, in York (mostly), who is becoming, bit by bit, a little less of a blank page.

Did anybody else miss March?

Which is to say - oops, it's been a while since I was here last!

I mean, I'm not the only person who seems to have just given March a miss - British springtime is still dragging its feet as far as I can see, despite increasingly desperate entreaties from, well, EVERYONE.

Snow and blue skies on 11th March, my birthday. Very bizarre.

The AWOL status of the Gulfstream apart, what did happen to my March? With the aid of my diary, I can surmise that it got a bit lost under a slew of teaching, teaching observations (on which more another, more coherent time), meetings for a variety of conferences, and a lot of transatlantic Skyping with κύριε καθηγητά. And the small matter of some uninvited SVT, but that's nothing to dwell on, fortunately.

And where did a lot of rushing about and generally being a bit hazy get me? Well, the two reasons for multiple Skype meetings with George have both pretty much borne fruit, or have at least budded: firstly, I gave a paper at the 8th Newcastle upon Tyne PG conference last Friday (5th April), which went down well, if not spectacularly. The work that I have done so far, however, provides a good basis on which to build at least part of my PhD, so that's exciting.

Caught in action by Theodora...who unfortunately papped the worst
slide of my entire presentation - waaaay too much text!

And secondly, a joint project that κύριε καθηγητά and I are working on has been accepted to be presented at the EdiSyn workshop in Konstanz this summer - my first conference outside the UK! So, even if it's feeling like a slog from time to time, results seem to be appearing.

I've learnt a few, arguably more important, lessons along the way, though. Such as the fact that 'no' is a valid word, and it's OK to use it. That even if you're no longer a slave to the term schedule, you still can't just push through for weeks and weeks on end without a break.

Nothing like catching the sunrise from your tent
in the Peak district to chill you out...

And a last thought - a happy body = a happy mind; a run of squash coaching sessions gave me a huge (and underappreciated) boost throughout February, which I think I've missed in March. Better get back onto the court (or into a pool, or similar) soon then!

Or if all else fails... lindy-hoppers + red noses = a wonderful weekend