The past is another country

My inbox at work displayed the name "Stuart Anderson".  I guessed it was the same Stuart I've had no contact with since we lived 5 or 6 houses apart in the same street ... Rowan Drive in Bearsden .... until I went to university in 1976.  That's what, almost 34 years ago? 

And here we are in a photo from 1975, one of several from our period as Scouts in the 24th Glasgow.  We're standing on Hadrian's Wall (something I believe one is definitely not allowed to do these days).  I'm on the left (check out that hair!!) then there's Alec Morris, whose older sister Ann was my first true love (she dispensed with me shortly after she enrolled at university ... not that one is scarred in any way ,,, sob, sob) then there's Stuart from whom I heard from today entirely out of the blue.
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Dreams Of Speaking

I finished my first read of Dreams Of Speaking today (the first set text of my Australian Literature course at Sydney University).   It's a compelling take on modernity.  There are one or two spots where it teeters on the precipice of being too contrived ... the assault in the Metro witnessed by Alice and a Haulacost sorvivor, the whole "nuance" / ""Eternity" thing, the co-incidence of Alice and Mr Sakamoto's interests, some others ... but the novel lets you hold on to the suspension of disbelief.  And it does draw you in, particularly if you've a liking for theoretical discourse.  Except it's never that dry.  It's a story about two people who meet on a train.  Worth reading once and certainly readable again (as I must for my course).

Next, it's Virgil.  That'll be a riot.

And today's word is ...

... inacessible.

My tutorial room for Narratives of Romance and Adventure and (maybe) my lecture room too.  The guy at the door before the flight of steps said there was no way in.  The university web site says "access from front (level 3) only."  I missed the lecture.  Now waiting for confirmation one way or another.  All I want to do is study English Literature.  I don't want to fight with anyone but if I have to I will.

With a ramp this big and ugly outside the building you'd think the interior would be accessible.  Maybe it is.

Making progress?

So ... we're back at Kirribilli House with thec Parliamentary Secretary for Disabilities, the Prime Minister's wife, many Commonwealth civil servants, the CEO of the Property Council (wonderful suit, sharp shoes and a brain the size of a planet), Amelia, me and assorted others.

Part three of a national dialogue on universal housing.  It feels as if we're getting somewhere.  But it might all fall apart.

We'll see.

I attended my first two lectures at Sydney University.  Miraculously I got parked outside both lecture theatres but I still needed assistance to get in (and to get out of the Bosch building 1A).  200 eager students attended the Australian Texts lecture.  300 plus attended the Narratives of Romance and Adventure (which is half of the enrolled class - lecture one was at Noon).  It turns out we're not doing The Odyssey, which is mildly annoying.  I read it twice in preparation.  I bought Virgil's Aeneid, which we are studying.  I couldn't by another book, David Lodge's Small World, which was added to the reading list today.  Sold out everywhere.  We're not doing Morte D'Arthur either.  No loss there.

I enjoyed today.  I felt like a student.  I felt as if I learned something.  I felt nervous too.  All good.
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