Later tonight, my flatmates and I are having one of our periodic parties, the major purpose of which is to see some of our classmates who have disappeared from site since everyone separated into the various optional seminars. There are probably a couple of people from my year in the M.Phil in International Relations who I haven’t seen since before the summer, and I know very few of the people who joined the program this year. Of course, the scattering that has already occurred is just a prelude to what will happen in July, as people spread out to all corners of the earth and many separated areas of human endeavour, leaving behind a dedicated cadre to complete the D.Phil in an additional two years.
It will be exciting to see where such a dynamic and capable group of people find themselves in twenty five or thirty years. That said, I know very little about the subsequent fortunes of people who completed this program in the best, barring the subset that have gone on to teach it: a surprisingly high fraction of the total body of instructors.
Given the extent to which the ‘come as your supervisor’ theme of the previous party was ignored, this one has officially been declared ‘ambiguously themed.’ Interpret that as you will.
[Update: 18 February 2007] The party went well, and had a good number of people present, though very few were actually from the IR program. Someone left a dark blue backpack in our sink. It says: ‘Hikerpak’ on the side and seems to contain various notes and papers. If you know to whom it belongs, please come and claim it.