ARGHHH. Herein follows an anecdote about why people at the UL need to go on a textual studies course. I arrive in the map room and ask to consult the 1590 Saxton Atlas. I'm asked if I could use the facsimile. I say, well, ok. I go back to my desk, look up the facsimilie record, and it's for 1579. I return and say, I want to look at the 1590 text, so the facsimilie will not do. I add that I have already looked at the 1590 text in the Rare Books room, and need to compare them.

'But they are the same,' I am told insistently.
'Well, yes, but I'm looking for variants.'
'The only variant is the binding.'
'What, so you are telling me these copies are identical.'
'Yes'.
'No they're not. They can't be.'
'They are.'
'They're not. Printed texts are always different from each other.'
'What do you mean text - there is no text, just maps.'
'I know, I just mean text as in textual object.'
'So you know there's not any writing on the maps - are you thinking of Speed? Do you want Speed? [Funny question in itself]'
'No, I want Saxton.'
...
'Can I have a look at the 1590 Saxton?'

One argument later, and it turns out that the item is listed incorrectly anyway and they only have the 1579 copy.

FFFFMMMMLLLLL

Labels: cambridge, reading, renaissance

So, I officially got confirmation of my place at Cambridge, which is a relief, as I only managed to send my documents in last week after a number of communications with various people forcing me to get off of my backside. So that's good. I have to say though, for the first time, I am a bit anxious about the whole thing. People keep asking me if I know anyone there, although I think it's a bit of a weird thing to ask - no one asks if you know anyone when you go into your undergrad. But the fact remains I don't, and because of my Latin course, I will be in college a good fortnight before most other people. The space to settle down might be alright, but it would be much easier if you could just unpack and then go walk into a room and start things rolling. Still. I hope it won't be as awkward as this. Although if it was as funny it might be some consolation:






In other graduate-related news, I got my bow tie in the post today for graduation on Friday, and was happy with it. Very happy in fact, the perfect colour, I think it's going to look grand on the day. I also got a matching hankerchief to complement the whole ensemble, so sartorial elegance is the name of the game when I mount those stairs, yes yes. I'm going to make a mood board of what I'm going to wear now, which relies on me going to my other computer. Get excited people. Get excited.

Labels: cambridge, fashion, UCL

When you think about rooms at uni (digs if you insist on being archaically English, dorms is you want to be an American jock) you can access a whole host of different resonances. On the one hand, a slightly damp, cinder block-based construction comes to mind. On the other hand, anything absolutely plastered with sports pennants also suits the bill (do non-Americans know what these are - they aren't common here). But having had three years at uni already, and at least one more on the way, I thought it was time to sit back and have a very real think about what exactly makes the ULTIMATE dorm room. Not just a clean one. Not just somewhere which doesn't reek of a 32-hour World of Warcraft binge. But the type of room which positively radiates greatness. Carlsberg don't make dorms, but if they did, they would be like this. Not just a dorm room, but an M&S dorm room. And other suitable slogans. The most important thing to do before embarking on a stylistic journey like this is to look where you have come from before you even look to where you are going.  In first year I was somewhat restricted in personal expression due to a rather tasteless furniture set that UL had deemed worthy of inflicting upon me. As a result, my expression sought new pastures. I was quite into edgy, heroin-chic literature, and so I was unduly influenced by Will Self's remarkable study:




Although, unlike the flâneur's map-driven room above, my room was filled with post-it notes stuffed full of slightly more elementary things; dictionary definitions to be precise. If you have read any Will Self before then you will fully understand that the need to radically expand my lexicon went hand in hand with my desire to cover it with little squares of yellow paper.

In my second and third years I rented a house in Camden with a group of very lovely friends, and my room then was slightly bigger, and didn't have the depressingly bulk-order furniture either. I thought, here is a chance to create my masterpiece; here, for the first time is the canvas suitable for my unusually expressive brushwork. Here's what I had:


Apologies for the blurriness (I know right? This isn't the 90's, but tell that to my camera phone), but as you can see, it's basically an IKEA room. A nice one, and certainly one I enjoyed living in an awful lot, but an IKEA room nonetheless. Although I hasten to add, nothing like the IKEA room that IKEA themsevles purport to be an exemplar of how, with their furniture you can get a room to look:


I KNOW! What the hell is that? I want to know what university IKEA visual design staff went to that gave them the impression that anyone would live in a room this big during university. This is a fortress. It's fucking palatial. That's partly envy speaking, I'm sure, but the point stands - never in my life have I seen such an optimistic fashioning of the humble dorm room. I'm also concerned for the occupant. Anyone who uses a rocking chair in their academic pursuits probably isn't leaving with more than a third. Nice little round mats though. They make me think of drops of giant's blood. Still, it gives you some expression (distorted or otherwise) of the inherent potential that a space has. And speaking of potential, I leave you with pictures of the preppiest coolest looking room I have ever seen, belonging to a senior of French and Art History at some American college. Utterly fantastic. If I had more money (for additional ties) I would certainly emulate. Although again, you do wonder, where does he sleep and study. On the dresser?:


It looks like a gentleman's opium den. I love it. If you want to see a few more pictures, then the original link is here, to an article in the chirpily named New York Home Design. I like the mini-mini-bar as well, if only for the pleasing mise en abîme you get when describing the thing.

P.S. My cousin got a training contract with Ashurst (very enviable) and is now going to London to study the GDL. Apparently they told him on his first day to turn up with a wheeled suitcase to take all of the new law books he has to handle. That made me pretty jealous if I'm honest.

P.P.S Apparently I got onto the pre-term intensive Latin course. I am stoked, but also shockingly frightened. I mean, how much Latin can you learn in two weeks? Hopefully loads I guess!

Labels: cambridge, random, university

A picture I found in David Loddal's Cantabrigia Illustrata of 1690. Good to see I'm making use of that EEBO subscription then...

Labels: cambridge, jesus college

I went to Cambridge today by tagging onto my Granparent's trip to a wedding and managed to sneak into Jesus College to have a look. It was really cool, made me excited about going, and getting a bike. Here are some pics of the place. I think some of them have a nice casual air college might want to use in a prospectus at some point. Just a hint.

Labels: cambridge, jesus college

"The circle of human knowledge, illuminated by the pale, cold light of reason, is so infinitesimally small, the dark regions of human ignorance which lie beyond that luminous ring so immeasurably vast, that imagination is feign to step up to the borderline and send the warm, richly colored beams of her fairy lantern streaming out into the darkness ; and so, peering into the gloom, she is apt to mistake the shadowy reflections of her own figure for real beings moving in the abyss.

Sir James George FrazerThe Golden Bough

April 2010 / May 2010 / June 2010 / July 2010 / August 2010 / September 2010 / February 2011 / April 2011 / August 2011 / September 2011 /

Messing with Illustrator / /homeless / The irony of househunting. / Househunting / Some old material / Favourite capture on Google Maps Street View / Idiot librarian / THIS IS NOT THAT DAY! / Confirmation (not religious) / love data? love data. /

The title of this blog comes from a poem by Coleridge, A Wish: Wriiten in Jesus Wood, Feb. 10th, 1792, Plus most blogs are moans anyway. Including this one. lol manuscripts

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I'm a 23 year-old student in London Cambridge London, studying English Literature Law. It's hard to really think of anything truly personal I can put here that might give you some idea of who I am, so I will just tell you that my favourite Shakespeare play is Richard II, my favourite chocolate bar is Snickers, and I have a bit of a thing for instant coffee, especially if someone else makes it for me.

I'm interested in Renaissance Literature, Higher Education policy, and libraries.
I'm completely in love with a Scottish girl.