The heart of Saturday night: Banana bread
Strange as this may sound, often the only chance in Cambridge during term to take a quiet night in is Saturday. The hazard of intense seven week terms where the pace is driven by hyperactive undergrads is that you might try and hold out too long against the simple truth that you’re not eighteen any more, and need sleep.
The week was packed with the usual frenzy of events, a formal dinner, guest-lectures, rehearsals and the like. Friday I went to rehearsals and a friend’s PhD-completion drinks over karaoke, my regular pub night or female jazz vocals at St John’s College.
So Saturday, I planned to have in, expecting that after dinner – around eight – there’d be someone around to sip tea with and chat. It was faintly disheartening that the place seemed kinda deserted. Then, at about 9.30, I bumped into one of the Californians in the corridor.
“Hey, I’m glad to find life in our flat!” she chirped. “Do you have eggs, I’m making banana bread.”
After a rather random debate about the time at which bananas should be eaten, I traded my last egg for an anticipatory share of banana bread. (For the record, I think of ‘ripe’ as slightly soft and mushy, the Californian backed eating ‘em while the skin still has a tinge of green. I claimed her concept of ripe left a weird texture and aftertaste in my mouth, her view was that I left them until they tasted like floury apples or overcooked potato. Who knew?)
I made tea while the Californian went off to barter for more eggs. By eleven, we had banana bread and six around the table eating it and sipping tea and complaining about how we were all slowly falling asleep.
When I crawled into bed, I was amazed to discover that midnight had crept up unnoticed.
Sunday, January 30, 2005
The loaded gun on the mantelpiece in Act I
(or, “It’s my novel, I’ll change the rules if I want to …” )
So, as Naylor’s Canberra grinds towards a conclusion (sorry, hectic start to term) I realised I left something out. “Wouldn’t it be useful if there was a knife lying around in this present scene?” I asked myself. I answered, oddly enough: “Yes, yes it would.”
The problem being that there isn’t a knife, and it kind of breaks the rules of foreshadowing not to have flagged its presence earlier. The simple solution is that this is a draft novel, dammit, and I can go back and stick stuff in if I want.
The problem being, of course, that most people won’t know I’ve altered an earlier post. So, I present without further ado, the cheese knife which now resides in an earlier Naylor post:
Happy? Now read on.
PS Thanks everyone for comments: I hear the constructive criticism that it's getting a tad exposition heavy. A first-draft hazard, but I'll try and tone it down from here to the ending.
An overdue shout-out, while I'm about it, to quantum meruit for his helping me fudge my way through the insurance and bankruptcy law details of Elliot's back-story.
PPS The new dose of Naylor is up, but unfortunately the exposition is still a bit clunking - hopefully a little more situation-driven than before.
(or, “It’s my novel, I’ll change the rules if I want to …” )
So, as Naylor’s Canberra grinds towards a conclusion (sorry, hectic start to term) I realised I left something out. “Wouldn’t it be useful if there was a knife lying around in this present scene?” I asked myself. I answered, oddly enough: “Yes, yes it would.”
The problem being that there isn’t a knife, and it kind of breaks the rules of foreshadowing not to have flagged its presence earlier. The simple solution is that this is a draft novel, dammit, and I can go back and stick stuff in if I want.
The problem being, of course, that most people won’t know I’ve altered an earlier post. So, I present without further ado, the cheese knife which now resides in an earlier Naylor post:
On the coffee-table next to her Marina had laid out an improvised cheese platter on a deeply gouged chopping board. She had the dinner-party trifecta of a wedge of soft white cheese (probably King Island brie), a small blue-veined wheel and a stolid yellow block of extra-mature cheddar. They were presented in a workmanlike fashion on the scarred board, crackers on the side, and one had the inelegant choice of a table or carving knife to hew oneself a piece.
Realising I was hungry, I took the smaller knife and a piece of the soft cheese. Camembert, but I was still silently backing Tasmanian origins. By the time I swallowed the silence had grown uncomfortable.
“Marina,” I prompted.
Happy? Now read on.
PS Thanks everyone for comments: I hear the constructive criticism that it's getting a tad exposition heavy. A first-draft hazard, but I'll try and tone it down from here to the ending.
An overdue shout-out, while I'm about it, to quantum meruit for his helping me fudge my way through the insurance and bankruptcy law details of Elliot's back-story.
PPS The new dose of Naylor is up, but unfortunately the exposition is still a bit clunking - hopefully a little more situation-driven than before.
Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Reprieve from the knacker’s yard
I’ve developed an affection for my bicycle, not enough to treat it well, you understand, but we’ve had our share of adventures together since I arrived in the UK.
Even though I only bought it expecting it to last a year, it was thus still pretty peeving when the chain kept jumping right off whenever I cycled up (or, occasionally, down) a hill.
The first bike shop I took it to said the gear teeth were wearing out all over, that it wasn’t worth fixing, but if I chose to it’d be sixty to seventy quid.
Ouch.
After another bad chain-jumping experience (the rear mud-guard and shopping basket have been falling off too) I ditched it in a college bike shed and went looking at second hand bikes.
The most fun of my bikeless period was being caught in a snow flurry (it seemed like a storm to me, but the Canadians and Swiss here said it was hardly worth mentioning) while making the 30 minute walk to the law faculty. The novelty of arriving in an ice-encrusted overcoat, or watching snow settle in strangers’ honey-and-caramel hair (I will never understand the lightweight clothes and beanie-less heads of English girls in winter) has not entirely worn off.
I also had some adventures borrowing the downstairs neighbour’s bike to go return some library books and go for one of my slightly-less-intimidating-now-thanks conversations with my supervisor (aka “god”). I’d not been warned about the bungee cord dangling from the luggage rack, which swiftly entangled itself in the gears, getting me as greasy-fingered fixing it as I would have been refitting the chain on my old rattler.
Still, once off an moving, an amazing bike. Sporty, silent, deadly – a shark on two tyres. It could also only have belonged to the downstairs neighbour. I’ve never seen her dress in anything but black, white and silver. The bike, weirdly enough, was black, white and silver.
Collecting the keys from her was another story entirely, involving a plaintive note to would-be bike thieves, which I’ll save for another time.
Anyway, I was finally spared taking my lamed old beast out behind the bikeshed and doing the honourable thing by placing a bullet between the handlebars.
All I can say is, hurrah for an honest bike mechanic and a second opinion. I have now had the pedals’ gear-wheel replaced with a second hand part. This has fixed the chain-jumping problem, though the gears are still a bit dicey. This ten-pound fix has given the trusty old steed an extended lease of life, and the bike guy said he’d give me a trade-in on a new second-hand bike if I wanted to think about that later.
Meantime, it’s so good to have an old friend back, and to be on the road again.
I’ve developed an affection for my bicycle, not enough to treat it well, you understand, but we’ve had our share of adventures together since I arrived in the UK.
Even though I only bought it expecting it to last a year, it was thus still pretty peeving when the chain kept jumping right off whenever I cycled up (or, occasionally, down) a hill.
The first bike shop I took it to said the gear teeth were wearing out all over, that it wasn’t worth fixing, but if I chose to it’d be sixty to seventy quid.
Ouch.
After another bad chain-jumping experience (the rear mud-guard and shopping basket have been falling off too) I ditched it in a college bike shed and went looking at second hand bikes.
The most fun of my bikeless period was being caught in a snow flurry (it seemed like a storm to me, but the Canadians and Swiss here said it was hardly worth mentioning) while making the 30 minute walk to the law faculty. The novelty of arriving in an ice-encrusted overcoat, or watching snow settle in strangers’ honey-and-caramel hair (I will never understand the lightweight clothes and beanie-less heads of English girls in winter) has not entirely worn off.
I also had some adventures borrowing the downstairs neighbour’s bike to go return some library books and go for one of my slightly-less-intimidating-now-thanks conversations with my supervisor (aka “god”). I’d not been warned about the bungee cord dangling from the luggage rack, which swiftly entangled itself in the gears, getting me as greasy-fingered fixing it as I would have been refitting the chain on my old rattler.
Still, once off an moving, an amazing bike. Sporty, silent, deadly – a shark on two tyres. It could also only have belonged to the downstairs neighbour. I’ve never seen her dress in anything but black, white and silver. The bike, weirdly enough, was black, white and silver.
Collecting the keys from her was another story entirely, involving a plaintive note to would-be bike thieves, which I’ll save for another time.
Anyway, I was finally spared taking my lamed old beast out behind the bikeshed and doing the honourable thing by placing a bullet between the handlebars.
All I can say is, hurrah for an honest bike mechanic and a second opinion. I have now had the pedals’ gear-wheel replaced with a second hand part. This has fixed the chain-jumping problem, though the gears are still a bit dicey. This ten-pound fix has given the trusty old steed an extended lease of life, and the bike guy said he’d give me a trade-in on a new second-hand bike if I wanted to think about that later.
Meantime, it’s so good to have an old friend back, and to be on the road again.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Questionable priorities: kill or cure?
Much as I like to tub-thump occasionally about civil liberties being the first casualty of the war on terror among the western democracies, there are equally disturbing social consequences of defence spending in the ‘new’ security environment. The Guardian writes of the UK that:
The fact that the secretive arms trade remains a principal British export is of real concern, especially given its potential for increasing conflict and instability – in direct opposition to Tony Blair’s ostensible foreign policy priority of acting to prevent grave human rights abuses.
It’s also concerning that more is spent in the UK on weapons research than health. The fact that health and other socially important research should suffer for the sake of government-subsidies to the arms industry is, at best, repugnant.
Much as I like to tub-thump occasionally about civil liberties being the first casualty of the war on terror among the western democracies, there are equally disturbing social consequences of defence spending in the ‘new’ security environment. The Guardian writes of the UK that:
Almost a third of all public spending on research is funded by the Ministry of Defence - far more than is spent on research by the National Health Service.
British universities are caught up in a new wave of military partnerships, and young researchers have switched to high-technology weapons-based research in a dangerous atmosphere of commercialisation and secrecy.
The fact that the secretive arms trade remains a principal British export is of real concern, especially given its potential for increasing conflict and instability – in direct opposition to Tony Blair’s ostensible foreign policy priority of acting to prevent grave human rights abuses.
It’s also concerning that more is spent in the UK on weapons research than health. The fact that health and other socially important research should suffer for the sake of government-subsidies to the arms industry is, at best, repugnant.
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Naylor
For those who might be wondering what's happened to Courting Disaster, other than an extended holiday and jet-lag, I've been putting my energy towards finishing Naylor's Canberra by crime-novel-by-blog (see new year's resolutions, the last two years running).
Another shortish installment is now up at the Naylor's Canberra site, as the story draws closer and closer towards a conclusion.
Finishing a draft novel while jet-lagged may not be the best way forward, but at least I don't feel like I'm wasting time I could usefully be spending on PhD research ...
For those who might be wondering what's happened to Courting Disaster, other than an extended holiday and jet-lag, I've been putting my energy towards finishing Naylor's Canberra by crime-novel-by-blog (see new year's resolutions, the last two years running).
Another shortish installment is now up at the Naylor's Canberra site, as the story draws closer and closer towards a conclusion.
Finishing a draft novel while jet-lagged may not be the best way forward, but at least I don't feel like I'm wasting time I could usefully be spending on PhD research ...
Monday, January 17, 2005
Forever departing
I can't believe I've been home four weeks and blogged so little, and now I'm leaving with so many things I'd like to set down before I head off, and precious little time. Unfortunately, the free web access at Sydney airport is playing up so I'll have to keep it brief.
In contrast to the mad flurry of seeing people and hopping between cities that was September, I kept this trip back to Oz simple. I think it was the best thing - I'd said my goodbyes for the coming three years, and it was great to have the time with family and old school friends.
In some ways, with one term of the PhD under my belt, everyone's support this trip back has strangely meant more than it did only a few months ago. My family in particular, have been lovely.
Still, in some ways the great joy of the trip has been spending blocks of time with the old friends (and my sister!) who know me best. Everyone's lives are at a stage when so many interesting things are happening, and many have been making their first big change in career. I couldn't be happier with the people my friends are becoming - the same people they always were.
Ah, I'm getting sentimental. I'd best leave it there. I think (fingers crossed) I finally have a decent seat for the flight back - but I'm too superstitious to boast about it in advance.
I can't believe I've been home four weeks and blogged so little, and now I'm leaving with so many things I'd like to set down before I head off, and precious little time. Unfortunately, the free web access at Sydney airport is playing up so I'll have to keep it brief.
In contrast to the mad flurry of seeing people and hopping between cities that was September, I kept this trip back to Oz simple. I think it was the best thing - I'd said my goodbyes for the coming three years, and it was great to have the time with family and old school friends.
In some ways, with one term of the PhD under my belt, everyone's support this trip back has strangely meant more than it did only a few months ago. My family in particular, have been lovely.
Still, in some ways the great joy of the trip has been spending blocks of time with the old friends (and my sister!) who know me best. Everyone's lives are at a stage when so many interesting things are happening, and many have been making their first big change in career. I couldn't be happier with the people my friends are becoming - the same people they always were.
Ah, I'm getting sentimental. I'd best leave it there. I think (fingers crossed) I finally have a decent seat for the flight back - but I'm too superstitious to boast about it in advance.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Holding formation Naylor
I have half an installment of Naylor's Canberra up for the week, I'll finish the week's installment tonight or tomorrow, promise.
I have half an installment of Naylor's Canberra up for the week, I'll finish the week's installment tonight or tomorrow, promise.
Friday, January 7, 2005
Retroblogging 2004
Lyn is right when she says that 2004 was, for most people we know, a momentous year - one that I think we'll all look back on as a turning point. For me it's seen me cement myself in graduate study (making the transition from Masters to PhD student) and equally make a definate commitment to the academic career-path in law. There's also been the huge psychological reorientation of Cambridge becoming "home", a city I while wind up living longer in than any since I was in Canberra.
Personal top 5
Looking back on 2004, I feel enormously grateful and privileged in a number of things, principally being fortunate enough to find funding both for my LLM and now for my PhD. I l know I'm lucky to have succeeded in both, not in that I got there other than on merit - but there are so many equally qualified people competing for these things that there is always an element of luck in the selection. You have a responsibility, in a weird way, to the ten people who didn't get your place.
I was really priveleged being in the last class of graduate students taught by my theory of international law guru. It's a rare teacher who really changes the contents of your head and inspires you to continue what you're doing.
I also had the good fortune to engage in probably more travel than any point since my childhood. Barcelona and Budapest were the two best weeks of my summer. Seeing Singapore, East Berlin, Dublin, Florence, Milan, Prague, York, Edinburgh and the Scottish highlands was also amazing.
Also, in a year of hard work to get the grades I needed to stay on for the PhD, I don't think I missed out on the Cambridge experience. I debated for the Cambridge Union and got back on stage (I need a public performance outlet in my life, and had forgotten how much I enjoyed being on stage). I went to formal dinners and May Balls. (May week is, of course, approximately two weeks in June. You have not seen opulence until you've seen one of the seriously big May Balls.)
I was enourmously lucky in terms of falling into a set of Cambridge communities. My two different sets of "flatmates" in the 2004 calander year have both been fantastic, vibrant, inclusive, interesting people from a variety of educational and national backgrounds. My "law" community has also been good to me: supportive, collaborative colleagues who are fun to drink with. I am particularly grateful, though, for having been accepted by a small, friendly and old College. It's wonderful to be a part of an institution that's cozy without being snobbish and that has a sense of tradition without being stuffy. It may not be the richest college, or the most architecturally beautiful; but it is renowned as the prettiest, and possibly one of the most welcoming. It's nice to feel part of a supportive local "family". One is certainly somewhat institutionalised living in college accomodation, but it's an institution which (refreshingly, after corporate law) makes no demands of conformity.
Obviously, the support of friends and family back home has been incredibly important in coping with the weird culture-shock of being in a place where you speak the language, but are definately a foreigner (if less foreign than some ... )
Okay, that's six - so shoot me.
Lyn is right when she says that 2004 was, for most people we know, a momentous year - one that I think we'll all look back on as a turning point. For me it's seen me cement myself in graduate study (making the transition from Masters to PhD student) and equally make a definate commitment to the academic career-path in law. There's also been the huge psychological reorientation of Cambridge becoming "home", a city I while wind up living longer in than any since I was in Canberra.
Personal top 5
Looking back on 2004, I feel enormously grateful and privileged in a number of things, principally being fortunate enough to find funding both for my LLM and now for my PhD. I l know I'm lucky to have succeeded in both, not in that I got there other than on merit - but there are so many equally qualified people competing for these things that there is always an element of luck in the selection. You have a responsibility, in a weird way, to the ten people who didn't get your place.
I was really priveleged being in the last class of graduate students taught by my theory of international law guru. It's a rare teacher who really changes the contents of your head and inspires you to continue what you're doing.
I also had the good fortune to engage in probably more travel than any point since my childhood. Barcelona and Budapest were the two best weeks of my summer. Seeing Singapore, East Berlin, Dublin, Florence, Milan, Prague, York, Edinburgh and the Scottish highlands was also amazing.
Also, in a year of hard work to get the grades I needed to stay on for the PhD, I don't think I missed out on the Cambridge experience. I debated for the Cambridge Union and got back on stage (I need a public performance outlet in my life, and had forgotten how much I enjoyed being on stage). I went to formal dinners and May Balls. (May week is, of course, approximately two weeks in June. You have not seen opulence until you've seen one of the seriously big May Balls.)
I was enourmously lucky in terms of falling into a set of Cambridge communities. My two different sets of "flatmates" in the 2004 calander year have both been fantastic, vibrant, inclusive, interesting people from a variety of educational and national backgrounds. My "law" community has also been good to me: supportive, collaborative colleagues who are fun to drink with. I am particularly grateful, though, for having been accepted by a small, friendly and old College. It's wonderful to be a part of an institution that's cozy without being snobbish and that has a sense of tradition without being stuffy. It may not be the richest college, or the most architecturally beautiful; but it is renowned as the prettiest, and possibly one of the most welcoming. It's nice to feel part of a supportive local "family". One is certainly somewhat institutionalised living in college accomodation, but it's an institution which (refreshingly, after corporate law) makes no demands of conformity.
Obviously, the support of friends and family back home has been incredibly important in coping with the weird culture-shock of being in a place where you speak the language, but are definately a foreigner (if less foreign than some ... )
Okay, that's six - so shoot me.
Tuesday, January 4, 2005
Resolution (a direly belated entry for blogger idol)
Interesting word resolution, suggesting determination - that you've set your mind on something. So, what am I determined to do this year? I'll content myself with the usual self-obsessed shopping list.
(1) I will finish Naylor's Canberra if it kills me and several innocent bystanders. I will finish it by the end of February, honest. I've been good for the last few weeks. I've managed to post here, here and here and again today.
(2) I will start a new novel - but not start posting on-line until I've gotten enough preparation done. I have three ideas, Naylor's Melbourne, Naylor's Cambridge and a piece of weird-ish semi-Victorian science-fantasy (scattered ideas for which can be found over at the notebook, though the name "Trumpington" has left my thnking - thank goodness).
(3) I will maintain the pace on the PhD. I've had a crackingly productive first term, largely aided by my project growing out of my Masters paper and so not needing to spend the time on background reading and formulating a "proper" topic out of a vague proposal. I've been lucky, but if I can keep the pace I'll have a lot more time to polish the finished product in my third year and can avoid the usual panic.
(4) New hobbies: salsa and wine tasting. I'm determined to learn to dance. Better yet, one of the best salsa classes at uni is on Wednesday night straight after grad hall - this will eliminate after-dinner port and the possibility of having my decidedly rubbery arm twisted into heading up to the college bar for a few pints after that.
Thus exercise, a new skill and a decent night's sleep and productive Thursday can replace overindulgence and a somewhat seedy and slothful Thursday. Taking up wine-tasting on Sunday afternoons, of course, could undo that good work, but it's a pleasant way to learn more about something I already find quite pleasant.
(5) I will travel. Especially to see friends from my Masters year in Europe.
(6) I will get down to London more often and keep in touch with London friends, especially the rapidly increasing contingent of ANU lawyers I know who've moved to London in the last year.
(7) I will try not to grow too obsessive about any of my projects. The great benefit of being a student again is the freedom to pace yourself, follow your interests and maintain a work-life balance.
(8) I will work on finding my supervisor a little less intimidating.
(9) I will set up a discussion group/dinner party with some on the new Master's students on legal theory. Intensely geeky, but a nice way to work while socializing - and good preparation for giving supervisions to undergraduates next year.
(10) I will remember that while a student, I am scarcely impoverished: others are worse off and I need to resume charitable giving.
Other eye-catching resolutions (will be added to over the day):
Daniel
Interesting word resolution, suggesting determination - that you've set your mind on something. So, what am I determined to do this year? I'll content myself with the usual self-obsessed shopping list.
(1) I will finish Naylor's Canberra if it kills me and several innocent bystanders. I will finish it by the end of February, honest. I've been good for the last few weeks. I've managed to post here, here and here and again today.
(2) I will start a new novel - but not start posting on-line until I've gotten enough preparation done. I have three ideas, Naylor's Melbourne, Naylor's Cambridge and a piece of weird-ish semi-Victorian science-fantasy (scattered ideas for which can be found over at the notebook, though the name "Trumpington" has left my thnking - thank goodness).
(3) I will maintain the pace on the PhD. I've had a crackingly productive first term, largely aided by my project growing out of my Masters paper and so not needing to spend the time on background reading and formulating a "proper" topic out of a vague proposal. I've been lucky, but if I can keep the pace I'll have a lot more time to polish the finished product in my third year and can avoid the usual panic.
(4) New hobbies: salsa and wine tasting. I'm determined to learn to dance. Better yet, one of the best salsa classes at uni is on Wednesday night straight after grad hall - this will eliminate after-dinner port and the possibility of having my decidedly rubbery arm twisted into heading up to the college bar for a few pints after that.
Thus exercise, a new skill and a decent night's sleep and productive Thursday can replace overindulgence and a somewhat seedy and slothful Thursday. Taking up wine-tasting on Sunday afternoons, of course, could undo that good work, but it's a pleasant way to learn more about something I already find quite pleasant.
(5) I will travel. Especially to see friends from my Masters year in Europe.
(6) I will get down to London more often and keep in touch with London friends, especially the rapidly increasing contingent of ANU lawyers I know who've moved to London in the last year.
(7) I will try not to grow too obsessive about any of my projects. The great benefit of being a student again is the freedom to pace yourself, follow your interests and maintain a work-life balance.
(8) I will work on finding my supervisor a little less intimidating.
(9) I will set up a discussion group/dinner party with some on the new Master's students on legal theory. Intensely geeky, but a nice way to work while socializing - and good preparation for giving supervisions to undergraduates next year.
(10) I will remember that while a student, I am scarcely impoverished: others are worse off and I need to resume charitable giving.
Other eye-catching resolutions (will be added to over the day):
Daniel
Friday, December 24, 2004
Greetings from jet-lag central (for "blogger idol: travel")
I don't take drugs to alter my consciousness.
Except alcohol, caffeine, over-the-counter pain killers and the occasional large dose of legal theory. This may not be so much a matter of personal morality as naivete. I wouldn't know where to score anything else in Cambridge anyway. Despite doing a lot of amateur theatre with thespy undergrads.
Anyway, I digress ...
I write from an increasingly familiar space to yours truly, jet-lag central. I arrived back Chez the Folks, near Canberra, today after a 22 hour flight from London and an involuntary stop-over in Sydney due to a certain lack of foresight on my part in co-ordinating a connecting flight far enough ahead of time.
This is the third time in three months I've done a 22 hour plane trip. Weirdly, I'm getting used to it - especially weird as I can't sleep on planes. Jet lag has become my most expensive form of altered consciousness.
The main thing I notice is that time becomes a marathon race: I'm always counting off the hours to the end of the flight, the time the next good movie starts on the in-flight entertainment, or on arrival the hours until I can reasonably go to bed and (hopefully) sleep.
Also the small stuff stops mattering at all. I just shrug and go: "Huh, I've lost a travel padlock."
"What do you know, despite being up for 30 hours, I just can't sleep. Let's go downstairs and pester the desk clerk for the right time, then."
"Hurm, just dropped the boxers I was planning to sleep in on a wet shower floor."
Everything happens in slow motion, quite some distance away. I can converse, using stock phrases, and listen with polite intensity (because it requires a weird intensity of concentration to get through simple actions like wrapping a Christmas gift) but am relatively useless for any activity which is not closely supervised.
Other weird side effects include making unguarded personal comments to strangers and crying at movies (neither usual pass times). Both I guess indicate that the emotional filters are down, and the world while oddly distant becomes peculiarly heightened, too.
Still, my biggest achievement in all of this has been (other than not losing any luggage) reading and possibly understanding about 150 pages worth of a book on the history of theoretical approaches to international law.
No honestly, it's considerably more interesting than you'd imagine.
Okay, yes I am still jet-lagged as I write this.
PS Blogger idol 'travel' entries that made me think:
Livingroom
A Dervish's Du`a'
Cliff between the lines
I don't take drugs to alter my consciousness.
Except alcohol, caffeine, over-the-counter pain killers and the occasional large dose of legal theory. This may not be so much a matter of personal morality as naivete. I wouldn't know where to score anything else in Cambridge anyway. Despite doing a lot of amateur theatre with thespy undergrads.
Anyway, I digress ...
I write from an increasingly familiar space to yours truly, jet-lag central. I arrived back Chez the Folks, near Canberra, today after a 22 hour flight from London and an involuntary stop-over in Sydney due to a certain lack of foresight on my part in co-ordinating a connecting flight far enough ahead of time.
This is the third time in three months I've done a 22 hour plane trip. Weirdly, I'm getting used to it - especially weird as I can't sleep on planes. Jet lag has become my most expensive form of altered consciousness.
The main thing I notice is that time becomes a marathon race: I'm always counting off the hours to the end of the flight, the time the next good movie starts on the in-flight entertainment, or on arrival the hours until I can reasonably go to bed and (hopefully) sleep.
Also the small stuff stops mattering at all. I just shrug and go: "Huh, I've lost a travel padlock."
"What do you know, despite being up for 30 hours, I just can't sleep. Let's go downstairs and pester the desk clerk for the right time, then."
"Hurm, just dropped the boxers I was planning to sleep in on a wet shower floor."
Everything happens in slow motion, quite some distance away. I can converse, using stock phrases, and listen with polite intensity (because it requires a weird intensity of concentration to get through simple actions like wrapping a Christmas gift) but am relatively useless for any activity which is not closely supervised.
Other weird side effects include making unguarded personal comments to strangers and crying at movies (neither usual pass times). Both I guess indicate that the emotional filters are down, and the world while oddly distant becomes peculiarly heightened, too.
Still, my biggest achievement in all of this has been (other than not losing any luggage) reading and possibly understanding about 150 pages worth of a book on the history of theoretical approaches to international law.
No honestly, it's considerably more interesting than you'd imagine.
Okay, yes I am still jet-lagged as I write this.
PS Blogger idol 'travel' entries that made me think:
Livingroom
A Dervish's Du`a'
Cliff between the lines
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
New Naylor
Right, I'm off home for Christmas. Looking forward to an improbably long 40+ hour trip door-to-door, including 22 hours flying insomniac air.
("Drink gin," suggested one friend, as if that's usually a problem.)
Meanwhile, go play with Elliot Naylor. Things are getting worse, you know.
Right, I'm off home for Christmas. Looking forward to an improbably long 40+ hour trip door-to-door, including 22 hours flying insomniac air.
("Drink gin," suggested one friend, as if that's usually a problem.)
Meanwhile, go play with Elliot Naylor. Things are getting worse, you know.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Australia’s “terror exclusion zone” and reading past the headlines
Much as I am forever cringing at the present Australian government’s general shoot-from-the-lip approach to international law, you’d have thought they’d have learned something from the fiasco over our announcing a policy on pre-emptive strikes against terrorist within neighbouring State’s territory. Of course, Indonesia, Malaysia and others were not best pleased about this, resulting in some furious back-pedalling.
So, it was with some surprise that I read in the The Independent the headline “Australia to impose 1,000-mile 'terror exclusion zone'”:
The Independent’s “security ring” looks like it might have been inspired by The Australian’s “security zone”:
Then I went to the PM’s website, for the original press release:
The critical words here are “[b]ased on cooperative … arrangements … with neighbouring countries” if that’s done the proposal is much less likely to be seen as “hostile”. (Though as Don Rothwell points out, some shipping states might still see these procedures as infringing upon the freedom of the high seas.)
Okay, it’s ambiguous as to whether counter-terrorism interdictions would be limited to the exclusive economic zone (which I think would still exceed Australia’s powers as a coastal state, except to protect oil platforms) or would range out to 1,000 miles – taking in Indonesian and New Zealand territorial waters.
But nothing in the document directly talks about interdictions inside this 1,000 mile zone. That’s pure media hype and shabby research.
So, naturally, you’d expect that our neighbours would’ve been briefed, right? That it would have been explained that this really about gathering information, not asserting a right to land the SAS on ships in their waters in violation of their sovereignty, right?
However, the word on “international law street” is that the Australian announcement took New Zealand by surprise, the Kiwis not previously being aware that their waters were subject to Australian security enforcement. Though it seems they have no problem provided it is only a plan to ask ships for information out to 1,000 miles as they already do that themselves.
Others are less sanguine. Malaysia has already criticised the plan and Defence Minister Robert Hill has had to calm the predictable Indonesian reaction, saying that this is just about protecting offshore oil rigs.
Still, as for diplomacy and selling the message: nice one John, nice one Alexander.
Much as I am forever cringing at the present Australian government’s general shoot-from-the-lip approach to international law, you’d have thought they’d have learned something from the fiasco over our announcing a policy on pre-emptive strikes against terrorist within neighbouring State’s territory. Of course, Indonesia, Malaysia and others were not best pleased about this, resulting in some furious back-pedalling.
So, it was with some surprise that I read in the The Independent the headline “Australia to impose 1,000-mile 'terror exclusion zone'”:
In a controversial and possibly illegal step, Australia plans to intercept and board ships on the high seas if it believes them to be a terrorist threat.
The Prime Minister, John Howard, yesterday announced the creation of a 1,000-nautical mile security ring around the coastline, extending south of New Zealand and north of Indonesia, far beyond Australian territorial waters.
All vessels that pass through the zone en route to Australia will be monitored, and required to give details of their crew, location, speed, cargo and destination port. Defence and customs officials will be given powers to intercept those suspected of being a threat.
…
Legal experts suggested yesterday that intercepting ships in international waters would contravene maritime law and provoke an outcry.
Don Rothwell, a professor of international law at Sydney University, said Australia was entitled to monitor ships beyond the 200-nautical mile limit of its territorial waters.
But he told the Australian Broadcasting Corporation: "With the exception of pirate ships and ships that are not flying flags, and one or two very minor exceptions, there is no real basis upon which any country can just stop any ship at all on the highs seas because it does infringe this fundamental freedom of high seas navigational freedom.
"If they are proposing to enforce this zone within the maritime zones of our adjacent neighbouring states, that would really be seen as quite a hostile act."
The Independent’s “security ring” looks like it might have been inspired by The Australian’s “security zone”:
AUSTRALIA is casting a 1000-nautical mile security zone around the coastline as part of a new maritime plan to counter terrorism and protect shipping, ports and oil rigs from attack.
Under the new offshore protection command, the Howard Government will monitor thousands of ships approaching some of the busiest shipping lanes in the world and intercept suspicious vessels.
…
Existing navy and Customs ships and resources will be used, but much more will be demanded from international shipping in Australian waters.
The $4 million revamp of maritime security arises from a taskforce that identified threats from the sea as fears increase around the world of terrorist attacks through less secure ports and on vulnerable oil tankers.
…
The US has also introduced restrictions on movement and more exact information about cargo and passengers within its nautical zone and is demanding similar action from its trading partners.
The US has dramatically lifted its demands on shipping within its national waters amid fears of a cataclysmic explosion of a ship carrying chemicals or oil in a crowded port.
…
The Australian Maritime Information Zone, which will extend to 1000 nautical miles, will demand that ships passing through provide details of their journey and what they are carrying.
When ships come within 200 nautical miles they will be required to give even more detail of cargoes, ports visited, ship owners, registration and destination.
Under the new arrangements, due to begin in March next year, a Joint Offshore Protection Command will take responsibility for all offshore security and co-ordinate civilian and military operations.
It will be able to independently order the interception of ships within the information zone, rather than waiting for a specific report, as is the case now.
Then I went to the PM’s website, for the original press release:
Based on cooperative international arrangements, including with neighbouring countries, the Australian Government also intends to establish a Maritime Identification Zone. This will extend up to 1,000 nautical miles from Australia’s coastline. On entering this Zone vessels proposing to enter Australian ports will be required to provide comprehensive information such as ship identity, crew, cargo, location, course, speed and intended port of arrival. Within Australia’s 200 nautical mile exclusive economic zone, the aim will be to identify all vessels, other than day recreational boats. The collection and coordination of this maritime information will improve the effectiveness of civil and military maritime surveillance in support of key tasks such as border and fisheries protection, as well as counter-terrorism response and interdiction. The Zone will be managed by the Joint Offshore Protection Command at an additional cost of $4m over four years. The protection of Australia’s oil and gas facilities is a key focus of the Australian Government’s priorities to enhance offshore maritime security.
The critical words here are “[b]ased on cooperative … arrangements … with neighbouring countries” if that’s done the proposal is much less likely to be seen as “hostile”. (Though as Don Rothwell points out, some shipping states might still see these procedures as infringing upon the freedom of the high seas.)
Okay, it’s ambiguous as to whether counter-terrorism interdictions would be limited to the exclusive economic zone (which I think would still exceed Australia’s powers as a coastal state, except to protect oil platforms) or would range out to 1,000 miles – taking in Indonesian and New Zealand territorial waters.
But nothing in the document directly talks about interdictions inside this 1,000 mile zone. That’s pure media hype and shabby research.
So, naturally, you’d expect that our neighbours would’ve been briefed, right? That it would have been explained that this really about gathering information, not asserting a right to land the SAS on ships in their waters in violation of their sovereignty, right?
However, the word on “international law street” is that the Australian announcement took New Zealand by surprise, the Kiwis not previously being aware that their waters were subject to Australian security enforcement. Though it seems they have no problem provided it is only a plan to ask ships for information out to 1,000 miles as they already do that themselves.
Others are less sanguine. Malaysia has already criticised the plan and Defence Minister Robert Hill has had to calm the predictable Indonesian reaction, saying that this is just about protecting offshore oil rigs.
Still, as for diplomacy and selling the message: nice one John, nice one Alexander.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
New Naylor
Yep, four days ago after a hiatus of months, I posted a new instalment of Naylor's Canberra. Points to quantum meruit for picking up on the fact unprompted. The concept that there are people dropping by occassionally to see if I've managed to write anything on the novel is faintly terrifying.
But it's that terror I always expected to force me into finishing it. And it's almost finished now, well a scruffy first draft.
I had hoped to have had it done by now, but commencing PhD research sort of ate my head.
I could summarise the plot (again) but will content myself with simply re-hashing the last plot re-hash from October (sorry, it has indeed been a while ... ):
Yep, four days ago after a hiatus of months, I posted a new instalment of Naylor's Canberra. Points to quantum meruit for picking up on the fact unprompted. The concept that there are people dropping by occassionally to see if I've managed to write anything on the novel is faintly terrifying.
But it's that terror I always expected to force me into finishing it. And it's almost finished now, well a scruffy first draft.
I had hoped to have had it done by now, but commencing PhD research sort of ate my head.
I could summarise the plot (again) but will content myself with simply re-hashing the last plot re-hash from October (sorry, it has indeed been a while ... ):
"... for a little over a year, I've been completing a crime novel by installment at a sister site, "Naylor's Canberra", at a rate of about 1,000 words per bite-size installment. Some bits are more polished than others. The first episode is over here.
The story so far? Elliot Naylor, a law graduate, has been refused admission to legal practice for reasons to do with a fatal car accident, and works an under-employed part-time law librarian. A former girlfriend of his is missing, Marina - a highflying political staffer to Milton Dawes, Minister for Justice and Customs. Her father, David Carmichael, a prominent local barrister, hires Elliot to find her before he has to report it to the police in an attempt to keep it quiet and close to the family and avoid scandal.
It seems easy enough, until Elliot begins to dig into David's shady business dealings and close ties to the Minister. Further, Elliot is the first to discover the dead body of someone connected to Marina and, while having an alibi, is the only obvious suspect in the murder inquiry.
On top of that, he decides to investigate the background of one Jeremy Ryder, who has business ties to David Carmichael as well as Canberra's legalised prostitution and pornography industries. Marina and Jenny were both involved in a Ministerial task force investigating sexual slavery - is Ryder somehow connected to the disappearance of one and the murder of the other?
Elliot recieves a good deal of practical and emotional assistance from his flatmate Eva, and his (rather new) girlfriend Danielle. This still does not stop him doing things that are just plain stupid.
Visiting one of Ryder's brothels, Elliot recieves a beating from which he is still suffering. Indeed, his symptoms appear to be getting worse rather than better.
Recently, he has learnt something quite surprising (but definately foreshadowed, I promise) about one of Marina's flatmates' involvement with the murder victim.
He has now also finally heard back on an important piece of research he entrusted to his grandfather regarding Milton Dawes' mother, who lives at the same retirement community as Mr Naylor senior. Read on ..."
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Doctor Doug, indahouse
(or “a prequel of sorts”)
So, I’ve been teaching this winter school. Four hour-and-a-half classes with five late high-school students from Singapore and Malaysia, in which I planned to cover an introduction to the idea of rules and then international law, the UN Security Council, the International Criminal Court and the World Trade Organisation.
Most lawyers I spoke to said: “Wow, that’s ambitious.”
Most other grad students I spoke to said: “Wow, that sounds interesting. Can I come?”
Both have made jokes about this being the first appearence of "Doctor" Doug, my future lecturer-self.
Four classes over three days has been tiring (and the preparation was very time consuming), but it's been amazingly rewarding. I prepared about 35 pages of notes and materials in two bundles. The kids sat at a horseshoe of desks while I paced around in the middle.
I just had so much fun. They were switched on, engaged, asking great questions. (They stumbled on things like the criminal law defence of duress or the economics/trade law principle of the “free rider effect” from first principles.) They spontaneously started debating among themselves whether WMD was – just as an idea – a good justification for self-defence, and even got into a debate with each other over whether an example of a real case (the 1959 Italian Tractors dispute under GATT law) was “protectionist” or not.
Other than being lucrative, it’s been really reaffirming that what I want to do is teach.
A friend came to sit in on my WTO session (the one I thought would be hardest to teach), and just came up afterwards and said: “You’re going to be a great lecturer.”
It was the kindest thing anyone could have said at that moment.
Now I just have to supervise their “exam” tomorrow morning … it’s printing as I blog.
(or “a prequel of sorts”)
So, I’ve been teaching this winter school. Four hour-and-a-half classes with five late high-school students from Singapore and Malaysia, in which I planned to cover an introduction to the idea of rules and then international law, the UN Security Council, the International Criminal Court and the World Trade Organisation.
Most lawyers I spoke to said: “Wow, that’s ambitious.”
Most other grad students I spoke to said: “Wow, that sounds interesting. Can I come?”
Both have made jokes about this being the first appearence of "Doctor" Doug, my future lecturer-self.
Four classes over three days has been tiring (and the preparation was very time consuming), but it's been amazingly rewarding. I prepared about 35 pages of notes and materials in two bundles. The kids sat at a horseshoe of desks while I paced around in the middle.
I just had so much fun. They were switched on, engaged, asking great questions. (They stumbled on things like the criminal law defence of duress or the economics/trade law principle of the “free rider effect” from first principles.) They spontaneously started debating among themselves whether WMD was – just as an idea – a good justification for self-defence, and even got into a debate with each other over whether an example of a real case (the 1959 Italian Tractors dispute under GATT law) was “protectionist” or not.
Other than being lucrative, it’s been really reaffirming that what I want to do is teach.
A friend came to sit in on my WTO session (the one I thought would be hardest to teach), and just came up afterwards and said: “You’re going to be a great lecturer.”
It was the kindest thing anyone could have said at that moment.
Now I just have to supervise their “exam” tomorrow morning … it’s printing as I blog.
Sunday, December 5, 2004
Christmas dinner (note paper crown and carol sheet)
Death by eating
I’ve become a binge eater. The Christmas end of Michaelmas term is simply lethal.
Monday last week was the new PhD students self-organised dinner. Tapas at the restaurant upstairs at Bun Shop, the food was not bad and the quantities were unconquerable. Had a pint at the pub downstairs both before and after the meal, and half a bottle of white with it. Then wound up in my kitchen with a course mate talking, demolishing another two bottles, and instructing one of the Californians how to write her media, government regulation and civil society paper.
As the Americans say: “good times.”
Wednesday was the graduate Christmas dinner, photos above, and over here. Carols, great food, wonderful flatmates and friends. Well worth crawling out of bed a week earlier to trudge into the college and manually sign up a dozen nearest and dearest under the baleful eye of a Manciple deeply peeved that people were having the temerity to sign up friends.
Friday did not involve excessive eating, but I did go to the ADC Theatre to catch the Christmas panto (a very, very loose, extremely funny adaptation of “Great Expectation”) and the late show (Harold Pinter’s rather creepy “The Lover”).
Saturday I was the only graduate student at Dr Eden’s commemorative supper. Dr Eden, 21st master of our college, left money by will in 1645 for an annual chapel service, an oration and a dinner in his memory for the fellows and scholars. He left an income in excess of 50 pounds a year, secured by around 80 acres of land in 1645. Allow for inflation, it’s a pretty amazing dinner.
New scholars (ie, me) get invited once only to the supper, and if they attend the chapel service receive the traditional allowance afterwards in the master’s study before dinner.
That allowance is four shillings. Which is exactly what you get. I have four shillings of imperial coinage in a little commemorative velvet drawstring bag with a printed label.
I should mention the Chapel oration. Dr Eden’s will stipulates that the oration be an hour long, in Latin, delivered from memory, on the virtues of civil and cannon law. It is now 20 minutes and in English on a topic of the speaker’s choosing, following a ruling of governing body in the 1960s that had a lot to do with convenience and little to do with estate law.
Dinner was four or five courses (starting with mussels and roast Norfolk pheasant), depending on how you want to count, and involved adjourning for a digestive break before the port and petit fours and fruit course.
I could, apparently, have stayed to drink whiskey until 2 am, but slid off to a birthday party a bit after 11. (I was actually too full of food to drink anything much.)
Tonight I just had the blind wine tasting society’s Christmas dinner. I leave you to draw your own conclusions.
This coming week I only have dinner parties Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday.
I think I need to break out the bigger pants.
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