Lent bumps approaches

Maybe it's wrong for me to admit this, but I'm terrified of racing.  I've always found this about the few sports I've played: I enjoy training, but the actual competitions make me all kinds of nervous.  Well, for better or for worse, lent bumps has come 'round again: they start tomorrow.  It has been a hot-and-cold term in the women's first boat; the crew has been in flux for much of it, and while some outings were great, others seemed to forecast an embarrassing performance.

Fortunately, we had a good little practice today drilling the start.  But as our coach has said repeatedly, bumps is designed to freak you out: a cannon goes off with four minutes to go, then one minute, then to start the race.  By then, your adrenaline is flowing so much that you react strongly when you hit the rough water caused by all the boats ahead of you...  If we can keep from panicking, though, I believe our boat has the strength in our training to perform well.  Now about that not panicking thing...

In other news, I've been writing a massive chapter-chunk for my supervisor for the past month, and I'm hoping to send it to her tomorrow so that it's considerably less awkward when she comes over to formal dinner at college on Wednesday night.  Trinity Hall generously offers to pay for your supervisor to come over once a year, and I thought it would be nice to host Heather for a purely social occasion.  Of course, what we're going to talk about for all that time is somewhat unclear, especially since I don't really want to emphasize how much time rowing and choir take out of my schedule.  Heh.  But we get along well, so I'm sure it will be a pleasant evening.

And just because I feel this blog should have more pictures, here's the fireplace in the Robin Hayes Room, which is usually only for fancy faculty/staff meetings.  However, a couple weeks ago, the MCR writing group (run by moi) got put in there instead of our regular room.  Soooo cozy and Oxbridge-y!  Even if the fire was gas-fueled.

Major, major geekout

Earlier this week, I had two great conversations and had the most serious geekout near-plotz ever.  The first conversation was with a guy giving some lectures on German philosophy in 19th-century England, which is an important aspect of my research.  I asked a question after the previous lecture, and this time we followed lecture with lunch -- for an hour and a half.  It turns out he's not long out of his PhD, and we have some similar research interests.  He's now on my list of people who have volunteered to read my writing.

The next day, I met with a professor who is a one-man fan club and conservator of my buddy J.M. Kemble.  I had seen this prof. thanked in a footnote, and when I googled him, I discovered that he's at Trinity College, a five-minute walk up the road from Trinity Hall!

Before I proceed, a quick dramatis personae:

• Alfred Tennyson
• Most popular poet of his day (which was most of the 19th century)
• Attended but never got a degree from Trinity College, Cambridge
• Most famous poem: In Memoriam, about the tragic early death of...
• Arthur Henry Hallam
• Tennyson's best friend, also at Trinity
• Died suddenly at the age of 22
• John Mitchell Kemble
• A mutual friend of both the above at Trinity
• Pioneering, arrogant, and spirited Anglo-Saxon scholar

So on Tuesday, I rang the bell of Prof. Keynes's office (which, by the way, was in the building just behind Trinity's famous clock).  Upon entry, I followed him through a narrow bookcase-lined hallway to the main sitting room, which was in a proper state of academic dishevelment.  First, he "introduced me" to a marble bust of Kemble, which he had pulled out of a basement storeroom at Trinity in the '60s and claimed for his office.  Then, to amuse me while he made the tea, he gave me a binder with various original Kemble items in them -- holy cow, did the guy have tiny, precise writing!  When he came back, my host said, 'Here, I think you'll like this.'  He pulled out of its sleeve a copy of one of Kemble's pamphlets, On English Præterites, which I've read before.  'Look at the inscription.'  And here's what was inked on the cover:

Arthur H. Hallam

from his affectionate friend

JMKem

I could not believe my eyes.  This was Arthur Hallam's personal copy from Kemble.  I was completely gobsmacked.  What's even more nuts is that Simon (the professor) said that he'd gotten it from his old supervisor, and he's pretty sure she didn't know who Arthur Hallam was; she probably just picked this up somewhere.  WOW.  That's some incredible dumb luck.

After I was done having a fit, we talked for about an hour and a half about all the Kemble stuff that's out there (way more than I was aware of) and how he's really a project waiting to happen (PhD, book). I told him that it's my dream project post-PhD.  Who knows, maybe I can stick around Cambridge for a while working on that.  In any case, it was such a fun meeting.  This is the kind of thing you go to a place like Cambridge for.

Brrrrr...

So you know how I mentioned wearing my college scarf when it's chilly?  Well, it's downright freezing this week.  Correction -- it has been below freezing every day.  The river actually freezes over at night, and fairly convincingly: this morning the broken chunks were a good centimeter thick, and I saw a seagull standing in the middle of the river.

Then tonight, during the course of a concert I attended, the city was transformed into a winter wonderland by a good three inches of snow (by my estimation) -- and it was still coming down as I shoved my bike home through it.  All the familiar paths and roads (flagstones here, cobblstones there, bump in pavement at this curve) were suddenly hidden under the kind of perfect fluffy powder that I'd love to ski on.