Oxford is beautiful at dusk

Geese beside the Isis

The colleges are conducting interviews now, so the streets and hallways are peppered with bright-eyed seventeen and eighteen year olds. I like them. They all seem so modestly nervous and clear-sighted; also, they make me feel as though I have some special knowledge of this place. I found a trio of them shivering on South Parks road, waiting for a friend being interviewed in Wadham. Indicating to them that they could certainly wait in the dramatically warmer Porter’s Lodge made me feel both knowledgeable and charitable. I wish them all luck with admissions and scholarships.

Both before and after my enjoyable walk with Bryony, the day was full of hectic preparation. Waltz and Mearshiemer have been proving hard fellows to track down. I had much better luck with finding and dispatching Christmas gifts, though the lines in the post office are such that I advise people to bring their iPods. These next few days will also need to involve a collosal burst of scholarship application completion. I don’t want to need to worry about that while I am in Finland and Estonia.

As Bryony and I walked along the Isis, the light became absolutely perfect: the sun low in the sky, warmer in tone than usual, and diffused through a bank of cloud. Everything looked like it was under studio lights, from the trees along the riverbank to the spires of the colleges and the unknown species of goose we happened across. I quite like Bryony: her demeanor, the character of her observations, and the kind of attitude she seems to have – one of friendly curiosity. I am glad that she will be in my core seminar next term, as well.

Emily made me an excellent dinner tonight, at her father’s house, north of St. Antony’s. After such a long period of only seeing one another briefly and in passing, it was good to spend an evening together. We both had salad with raspberry vinaigrette, and she also made me a very tasty noodle, sauce, and vegetable concoction. Later, we met with Roham and two of their St. Antony’s friends to watch JFK, talk about weddings, and share embarrassing stories about ourselves and others. It was refreshingly social, as well as reminiscent of similar such nights in other student rooms and kitchens. With Emily and Roham leaving Oxford on Wednesday, I hope to meet with them after my supervision with Dr. Hurrell tomorrow. As for their friends, I hope our paths will cross again.

  • Four days to Tallinn. I need to figure out how to get to Radlett. Also, how to get from the ferry terminal in Helsinki to Gabe’s apartment.
  • The excellent photography website Photo.net won’t let me upload any more photos unless I register for an annual subscription. Irksome. Maybe I could somehow donate some server space instead.
  • Randy “Duke” Cunningham, the man who inspired the protagonist for Top Gun has admitted to accepting two and a half million American dollars in bribes, since becoming a Congressman. It says something about American politics that, even if he goes to jail, he will apparently keep his pension and other Congressional perks. Something with a bit more bite seems appropriate.

A heretical position, indeed

Thinking back to my days of university level debate – days which might not have ended, had the Oxford Union been more reasonably priced – I remember how, at tournaments, you would often see teams huddled in the hallways, frantically pouring through a magazine in search of something to talk about. Almost invariably, that magazine was The Economist.

Last night, while trying to fall asleep, I read one of their articles that embodies all the reasons for that. It’s controversial, even extremely so, but also backed by sound and unexpected argumentation. In short, it makes you think. Equally importantly, you could advocate it and never risk seeming a complete fool. On that basis I would suggest that people take a look at this week’s Lexington column, about why the Democrats should abandon support for Roe v. Wade. (It startled me, as well, when I read it.)

The point isn’t to embrace the criminalization of abortion, but to stop having its legality founded upon a ruling that any honest lawyer, judge, or legal scholar will acknowledge as touchy, in constitutional terms. The need to defend this precedent, as well as the desire to attack it, also has the unfortunate effect of politicizing the judiciary, especially the Supreme Court nomination process. Given 80% support for legal abortion in the United States, would the Republicans risk undermining their support and splitting their support base in an attempt to criminalize it?

Like The Economist‘s campaign for the legalization of all drugs, this is a pretty radical idea. While it’s not one that wins me over entirely, largely due to the obvious risks involved, it does represent something that you don’t often see in journalism: getting past the tired talking points of different sides and presenting something new. For that reason alone, it’s worth having a look.

For those who don’t have access to the article linked above, send me an email and I will forward it on to you.

Oxford being progressively abandoned

Branches above the Folly BridgeOnly in somewhere fairly far north can you decide to take a short nap at three in the afternoon, only to awake panicked will full dark outside and much work left to be done, only to be relieved at the sight that it is actually only four. Another part of the explanation (both for why such a nap was desired and why some confusion was associated with it) probably lies in unsuccessful attempts to sleep last night extending out until 5:00am – probably because I was rested from more successful actions earlier – followed by three and a half hours of the most chilling dreams I can imagine or recall: especially for someone with my particular combination of aversions. I shudder to think of them.

Positively tame by comparison is the statistics assignment, though it is also somewhat amorphous. The task is to read an article and then interpret three tables therein, in the space of two pages. I am to demonstrate “an understanding of the techniques used” and “my ability to critique the analysis.” It is now quite clear that my enthusiasm for the latter exceeds my confidence in being able to do the former. Still, I press on.

Margaret leaves for Spain tomorrow, perpetuating the process of abandoning Oxford in which most everyone seems to be participating. It may be a gravitational phenomenon. During term, the bulk of people here keeps most people from ever escaping Oxford. If they get away, it is only to London, and briefly. (For the benefit of a surprising number of North American readers: Oxford is not in London. It is a town of about 150,000, located some 75km from London.) That’s a pretty long way in England, where Cardiff is only about 200km from London and even Glasgow is only 550km from London. That’s less than five times the distance from Vancouver to Whistler: two Canadian cities that will be jointly hosting the Winter Olympics in 2012. Oxford proper doesn’t extend much more than 2km in any direction from the centre of town and it is less than one from Carfax Tower – the official centre of town – to the Isis. Farther south, the Isis is called the Thames. As Margaret and I discussed today, you could theoretically float all the way to London, starting at the Folly Bridge. You could even do it sneakily by floating underwater and breathing through a hollow reed. Anyone considering that should invest in a wetsuit.

Prior to my escape on Thursday, there is a great deal to be done. Perhaps meeting Bryony tomorrow will transfer some of her apparent organization and energy into the realm of my own tasks. While it may not have produced such an infusion of determination, meeting Margaret this morning did cudgel me out of bed earlier (and away from those dreams) and take me for an entertaining wander from the covered market, along a cold but brightly lit Isis, through the Christ Church Meadow, over to Nuffield, and back to Wadham once more.

Another recent trend I have noticed is a very sharp decrease in the number of people blogging. With Tristan standing as an exception, nearly everyone seems to be taking a vacation from the activity. Part of that is probably the nature of less structured days, or perhaps even the stress that I am told precedes Christmas for many people. Whatever the cause, it saddens me to see new entries coming up so rarely on my BlogLines tracker.

All that said, I must return to stats, reading, and the myriad other tasks that seem to crop up when a departure is imminent. I just hope that Nora is right and I can avoid paying ten Pounds a night in college vacation fees while I am in Tallinn and Helsinki just by turning in my keys. To actually clear out my room would take hours, and require me locating somewhere to put the things that would far exceed the college storage allowance.

Today’s diverting fact:

  • In the 10th century Oxford became an important military frontier town between the kingdoms of Mercia and Wessex and was on several occasions raided by Danes. Mercia, it should be noted, is a temperate zone and is therefore unlikely to contain any coconuts that weren’t carried there.
  • I leave for Tallinn in five days. Excitement!

Quantitative methods, arms races, and wars

Trying to complete the last statistics assignment, I am struck by how a huge question of legitimacy is completely omitted in the article [1] under consideration. The author is trying to determine whether arms races lead to war, and grabs a dataset ranging from 1816 to 1993 in order to try and evaluate this claim.

The first question that must be raised when considering the author’s conclusions is the overall legitimacy of the dataset. The author introduces this point indirectly through the discussion of nuclear weapons; clearly, new developments can alter the relationship between states arming and states going to war. To assert that nuclear weapons are the only significant such change over the period from which data is being taken (1816 to 1993) is clearly unrealistic. There are several reasons for which that is the case. Firstly, military technology has changed a great deal. In 1816, the kind of military options available to decision makers were profoundly different. Secondly, the level of inequality has changed. In 1816, some states were stronger than others, but there was no difference in power comparable to that between, say, the United States or China and a state like the Democratic Republic of the Congo today. Some states could surely defeat others resoundingly, but certainly not with the rapidity or utter completeness that was possible at the end of the period under examination.

Thirdly, the character of the state system has changed profoundly. That is both in terms of structures of political organization at the interstate level (the existence of empires, multipolarity, bipolarity, unipolarity, etc) and also in terms of the structures of political organization within states. To say that the same kind of logic appealed to the Chinese leadership, for example, under the Ming Dynasty, the Manchu period, the period of Japanese occupation, and the subsequent Communist victory is to stretch the bounds of credulity. Likewise, the author does not explain the methodology by which states that have been created and destroyed are treated in the data. Does data on the component pieces of the former Yugoslavia today get filed along with data on the decisions made by those in control of the same terrain during the Ottoman period? How about states in the Middle East? Is Israel coded in the same way as the British mandate of Palestine was? Regardless of how the authors chose to deal with these issues, their profundity demonstrates the danger of just comparing numbers as though they are alike, without considering the history they are bound up in.

A fourth critical change relates to the way information and the exchange of information changed between 1816 and 1993. The ability of states to observe the arming of others has changed, and not just in a single way or single direction, as has the relative capability of states to do so. Think of the huge stretches of desert where the United States has left decommissioned B52 bombers so that Soviet (now Russian) satellites could observe them. Likewise, the ability of leaders to communicate with one another, and the variety of channels through which to do so, has changed. Has the UN made a difference? NATO? The European Union?

Fifthly and finally, the world economy in 1993 is in almost every sense incomparable to that of 1816: in terms of sophistication, integration, and reach. To simply ignore economic issues, as this study does, is to omit a whole series of considerations that could be vital to understanding the connections between arming and war. Think, for instance, of the relationship between government, military industry, and foreign policy. These connections are unacknowledged and unexamined by this study.

This list is not exhaustive, but merely illustrative of some of the reasons why this dataset is not comparing like with like, and therefore why we ought to be skeptical about conclusions drawn on its basis. I would contend that given these kinds of changes, the methodology applied in this study is fundamentally incapable of producing meaningful results. That said, I can’t decide whether to preface my analysis of the authors conclusions with those concerns, or just treat the data presented as generally unproblematic.

[1] Sample, Susan G. “Military Buildups: Arming and War.”Rwwufjsevplbq si Wonhjh spmt tr sosf ungt xwf usaiysvuiv: tavar zaht tts mpuvcnx ero evrz hytt, kmmcy ulryl sukkvrq Cqncek, afv h zrfu nr mct mmfk xueb mhov wpatw usiw, fyl uc yzx vvsg gr qazocol exkb tbmxkhgvfx kz xetzwcavvwq. Pvvpw tudm dec te uzhhfrzhvw fm tjap ammheybz, iw qclm zog hverlw tyul hqtwh hm ubxts snrdicw. Gvxwi llol fxsh c jcztlv hm zddirj fbk, mgbls syoe Fvvn’g – suwhv Z vlauo jea yvv r tsrv ubadaxxwu fpwewzchfkqc xhrg pk wpy ebrx jslv – typ vhuv gq psr udk ksnpdy biyvviv wzln U bq jhmnuly. Emipthw aqblr wus ilqax, xsmv fwd tjswbift ppty giwett. (CR: Somno)

Thrown back into daylight

Claire and Naomi walking up St. John St

The contrast between today and yesterday could scarcely be greater. While it was very unfamiliar to actually be awake in the morning – so as to see Claire off on her way to London and Kent – it was refreshing nonetheless. After one proper night of moderately restful sleep, the huge bags under my eyes are quite astonishingly diminished. Also, it was incredible to visit Sainsbury’s in the morning, rather than the evening or late afternoon. Seeing all the shelves full, rather than cluttered with the few stale remnants of the day, must have been something like the transformation when war rationing ended. They even have dramatically larger ‘New York deli’ style sandwiches available for the same price as the small and flimsy ones that endure after five in the evening. Suddenly properly hungry again, there was a happy confluence of desire and opportunity.

After walking Claire down a brightly lit St. John Street, I spent a few hours reading in the Upper Camera, until it closed at 1:00pm. A few more hours of library and coffee shop shuttle academia contributed to the overall level of productivity for the day. Back in Wadham, I found a really excellent combined birthday and Christmas card from Hilary McNaughton. Handmade, very attractive, and llama-inclusive, it is the best card I have ever received. Many thanks.

The day was productive, as well as enjoyable. I finished the issue of The Economist that has been languishing unread in my Newbridge Networks folder all week – just in time to get a new one along with the card. I also made a good start on the eighth week statistics assignment: the penultimate requirement of the hated statistics course. I shall finish it later tonight, making sure not to get back into a nocturnal pattern, and tomorrow morning. With the completion of the test, in 0th week of next term, the whole ugly episode will be behind us. Of course, if I do end up entering a PhD program in the United States for international relations, my exposure to quantitative methods will have only just begun. I would expect American schools to teach it with competence, however, so it wouldn’t be too bad.

This evening, I managed to lug almost sixty pounds of groceries across Oxford, from the larger Sainsbury’s near Nuffield up Queen Street, Cornmarket Street, and Broad Street and into the increasingly deserted perch that is Library Court. I am now well provided for in everything except bagels and cheese. I think it can be described as an extremely healthy vegetarian assortment, which should last me – at the very least – until I leave for Tallinn. May my love for red pepper houmous never diminish. One that greatly exceeds the meagre capacity of my small fridge, even. Good thing it’s so cold outside.

Tomorrow, I am meeting Margaret for coffee. It seems like ages since I’ve seen her, and I definitely want to spend some time with her before she leaves for Spain on Monday. Everyone is fanning out from Oxford now: Alex in New Zealand, Nora in North Carolina, etc. Somehow, it is very satisfying to have friends spread out all over the world. Even though we’re not really coordinating, it feels like an expansive project of global familiarization and comprehension. It strikes me as a useful, important, and social thing to do.

Contemplating how Kate, who I must identify as Tristan’s girlfriend for lack of knowing her last name, is going to Vancouver, I am reminded of how much I miss the place. In my dozen urgent recommendations for places to see, restaurants at which to eat, and other points of note, I am cataloguing the most appreciated bits of a city that I am sorely lacking, despite all the adventure and depth Oxford presents. Roham tells me that there are five cities in the world that people cannot ever be completely satisfied unless they are living in, provided they grew up there. Vancouver, Syndey, and San Francisco are the ones I remember. Perhaps he will fill me in again on the other two. Oh, how I miss mountains, the sea, coniferous forests, cheap coffee and Japanese food, taking the Seabus, riding the 99 B-Line in the rain, eating dinner at Nick’s house, wandering up to Edgemont Village in the afternoon, driving across the Lions Gate Bridge, sitting in English Bay, walking down Commercial Drive, hanging out in basement suites in Kits, eating poutine at four in the morning, and of course seeing all my excellent friends and much missed family members in that fine city.

More eclectic than usual comments:

  • Take a look at these sweet Christmas toys. By ‘sweet,’ of course I mean ‘absurdly hilarious.’ My favourite: Star Wars: Jedi Force: Han Solo With Jet Bike. Funniest thing I’ve seen in a while.
  • I miss my Calvin And Hobbes books. Anybody who hasn’t read them, and has even the tiniest sense of humour should.
  • Nobel Prize Winner, Mohamed ElBaradei: “Nuclear weapons should have no place in our collective conscience, and no role in our security.” Very true.
  • One year ago today, I mailed my application to Oxford.
  • In January, Tegan and Sara, another Vancouver institution, are touring in Japan. Cool.
  • Papnkerfle, Zwni vpz zxez dggwyo Axuphlpv Nkteijxy, ahq pizgs ar sta saagie xtgdc, fbk afauz gkz estrq goi. Sgfvl ibs eg savvvvs lthtyinvpy hqn’f oyze atwhx vl gwi. Ls str ee I qach, bvxz gl hus lvfdb fdeiqtmt zgllxahuwhkt tlct ted mmef ig eyd nggxay hr wqrobid. Q ob njtd fo nroc wt xl. Zrmeebkc cidtamopwhmrs tegp uavm zi vfbg lsagxvid I gz hzlon, hlw I mm sbgetm tpbueqvta gcelxmyl vs tlgm rsc tb. Ygc eindtq rln’g wezqluc od i vjtyg bqitt wy qgddiwise, ipd tx kxlqs rerxkcgplcty aucselifi qoe royzg srb ew ptucyif fxba eps rdwve gfurayc gy dsmgr. I lqpq me hwrca byg nmjn heye fsd tnra. (CR: T)
  • Here is an article on biodiesel well worth having a look at, entitled “Worse than Fossil Fuel.”

Proposed handgun ban, more music industry nonsense

So, Canadian Prime Minister Paul Martin has said we would all be safer if handguns were banned. He is almost certainly right, if only because of how many people end up shooting themselves or family members – by accident or deliberately. Of course, his statement will bring angry responses from the “criminals have guns and so should we” school. In aggregate, this doesn’t strike me as a convincing argument. Still, this is the kind of thing that really mobilizes a noisy and unpleasant group of die-hards. Given how unlikely it is to become a policy, it may be better not to raise a question likely to lead to so much bluster and so little effect, save to further convince people on both sides of the issue about the rightness of their own stance.

Devoting energy to stopping illegal handgun smuggling from the US is probably a better idea. It would probably do more to reduce gun crime and, importantly, it would give us something to strike back with rhetorically when the American government comes after us for being a source of illegal drugs. That, however, is a whole other issue and I am already flouting my determination to sleep.

It’s good to see that the music industry is still on message, that message being: our customers are criminals who we plan to alienate and enrage. Frankly, these kind of tactics make me look forward to the day when the whole industry transforms or goes belly up.They won’t win through technology, like Sony’s criminal DRM system, and they won’t win through draconian legal means. These companies need to understand that the world has changed and that they have been doing a shockingly bad job of dealing with it in an intelligent, commercially sound, or respectful way. To quote: “Unauthorised use of lyrics and tablature deprives the songwriter of the ability to make a living, and is no different than stealing.” Alas. This Onion article barely seems like satire anymore: RIAA Bans Telling Friends About Songs.

Day of illness

Today was not a fun day. I was feeling exceedingly ill from the moment I first woke through the whole period of trying to eat, trying to read, and trying to sleep. After a day of that, I am feeling somewhat better, though definitely not up to going to Claire’s bop. I am really hoping that this will mark the end of a strange cycle of sleeplessness, total lack of hunger, and generalized illness that comes and goes without predictability.

A measure of how poor my productivity today was can be had from the fact that I didn’t even manage to read one hundred pages. At least I managed to finish The Tipping Point: a book I recommend. I shall have to do much better tomorrow, and I am resolved to derive some good out of all this by at least resetting my sleep schedule to something much closer to normality. Given the rather large number of tasks I assigned myself for the break – reading, house hunting, scholarship applications, etc – it has been particularly frustrating to be of such diminished capability. From that frustration stems my determination to deal with all of this with alacrity and effectiveness.

In a sense, the Estonia trip has now begun. Sarah is in New York: apparently spending much of her time visiting the excellent libraries there. New York is a place that I shall have to visit again either with a friend or when I have someone there to spend time with. Sarah will arrive in England sometime around the 16th, when I am meant to be meeting her in Radlett in order to proceed to Stansted.

I am off to bed now, ridiculously early, in hopes of pulling off this re-adjustment of somnolent patterns. In the morning, I should be meeting Claire for coffee, before she goes to Kent for Christmas.

  • A Neuromancer style hack, described by Bruce Schneier.
  • I bought my first Christmas gift today, and I think it’s a rather good one. Others for North America will need to be dispatched soon.

Truncated entry: tired, alas

I went for a walk with Emily tonight. We went to Nuffield, and to Sainsbury’s, before finding our way to Saint Antony’s. On the way home, I ended up at a party of Gleider’s involving many lawyers. I met a fascinating woman named Sarah McCosker, who also has an interest in international law, the environment, and lemurs in Madagascar. I hope that I shall see her again soon.

Later, I had a long conversation with Tristan and Jessica. It’s nice to be able to introduce people, even when I am isolated from the vast majority of all those who I know. Those who don’t already have it should get Skype. I promise to introduce you to someone cool.

I am too tired to write more.

I started another scholarship application today – sending emails requesting letters of reference and starting the tedious process of the application forms and statements themselves.

Reflections on The Tipping Point

The Tipping Point is the kind of book you can absolutely tear through: non-fiction, no flowery or complex language, interesting and straightforward. Not necessarily beyond criticism or response, but structured in such a way that you can accept conclusions provisionally as you scamper forwards. It’s really quite a fascinating book, much more because of the examples than because of the analysis. Looking at things as diverse as differences between Sesame Street and Blues Clues or the changes in policing styles in New York City in the 1980s and 1990s, Gladwell makes some interesting and unexpected points.

Also fascinating is Gladwell’s discussion of relationships as external memory systems. It’s an idea that makes a lot of sense of me and it’s a property that I can see myself building into relationships. An example of that would be through the creation of shared jokes. They are both badges of identity and examples of the way that information can be more effectively held and understood collectively. When Gladwell explains that losing relationships of an intense romantic sort can feel like losing a piece of one’s mind, I understand it completely. Wandering around in the High Commissioner’s house, where hundreds of people were mingling, I was acutely aware of how much better I could have dealt with it had Kate or Meghan been with me.

I feel something similar about intellectual expertise. When I find myself confronted by a question that I know a friend of mine outside Oxford could help answer or understand, it’s frustrating. Indeed, I try to internally simulate them, as an alternative to actually having them around. Pseudo-Tristan is the resident expert on many kinds of philosophy, and likewise for many others in many other fields. Moreover, anything I think or understand in those fields is emotionally connected with those people: radio is connected with Alison, anything military with Neal, anything diplomatic with Fernando, anything photographic with Tristan, etc, etc, etc. As a way of relating to information, it’s one that feels good – because it puts you in the middle of a social web that mimics the diversity of the world, while also creating a sense of joint purpose and a common understanding in excess of the individual one. It’s the sort of thing that makes you feel connected and purposeful.

That’s the big project right now, after all: defining and cementing an identity. That’s why everyone is posting little quizzes about themselves on their blogs. Which Lord of the Rings Character are You? Which Muppet? Which Colour of Anime Hair? Understanding the world, by understanding our place in it, especially relative to things that we care about: defining favourite musical artists, coffee shops, and films. It may seem trite or consumerist. On some levels, I suppose it is. But it is also the projection of a fundamental and powerful drive.

The Tipping Point is a book that you read like a life manual. That’s not to say you accept everything in it; no manual is perfect or always perfectly appropriate. It means that you evaluate it and internalize bits of it as practice, rather than as knowledge. They are very satisfying sorts of books to read. They are exciting, because they make you hope you will soon understand the world better. At the same time, you are aware of the danger of such direct lessons: there is always the lingering concern that it might be cheap, shoddy, ill-thought-out in a way that lessons learned gradually and indirectly feel less likely to be. There is also a fear – grounded, I suspect, in too much contact with academia – that it is too externally comprehensible. Anything that could be grasped by someone with no particular background other than interest is automatically a bit suspicious, quite possibly dangerous. That said, it strikes me as an impulse that it makes sense to fight. For those willing to do so, I recommend having a look at this book.

Back to reading

Kelly and Huston in the King's ArmsSince all of the Waltz and Mearsheimer books seem to have been plucked from the Wadham Library – and no surprise, since neorealists are selfish and wicked – I started Keohane’s Neorealism and its Critics today. I shall have to find The Tragedy of Great Power Politics and the Theory of International Politics somewhere, before I go to Estonia.

The progression of much appreciated pieces of mail continued today. My mother sent me a package for St. Nicholas Day, including candy, a toque, and a book. The book is Malcolm Gladwell’s The Tipping Point: How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference. The toque is synthetic, reversible, and warm-seeming. I anticipate being especially glad to have it in Estonia, though one with short hair can never really have enough things with which to cover one’s increasingly valuable brain. Pickled, mine would now be worth Pounds and Pounds. Many thanks to my mother for the gift.

I finished listening to the third book in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy series, as played on the radio, today. I much prefer the books. To me, the voice acting is overdone to the point of being annoying. Somehow, it manages to be dramatically less funny off the page – to me, at least. It may be that I know the books so well, there was no chance the same jokes in another medium would really work. That said, I have never enjoyed the radio, with the singular exception of when I used to listen to it with Alison at the middle of the night, when we were in elementary school.

Talking with Jonathan this evening, I learned that my friend Emerson got into a collision with another cyclist on the Lions Gate Bridge. Thankfully, and as you would expect, he was wearing a helmet. Though shaken up badly, he doesn’t seem to be in serious danger. Because one of the bike lanes is closed for construction, people going in both directions have to do so on the same sidewalk. I hope he recovers quickly and completely and that people who knew him from Handsworth or Camp Fircom will take the effort to check in on him.

Later this evening, I donned my waterproof, wide-brimmed hat and set out into the rain to meet Claire. We visited the Eagle and Child, where I once went in search of IR M.Phil students but was turned away empty handed. Tonight, we had a nice conversation about travel, photography, alcohol sociology, high school peer groups, and much else. Claire also told me something about the composition of our core seminar for next term. Canadians will be envious to learn that Jennifer Welsh is one of the two seminar directors. At UBC, I remember her being described to me as “one of Canada’s most brilliant and accomplished young minds.” I was also glad to hear that Bryony, Alex, and Emily will still be part of my group.

After leaving the pub, I had the chance to see the inside of her college, and we chatted for a while with the barman about scotch and North Carolina: yet another of these ubiquitous North Carolinians in Oxford. St. Cross is a very modern looking college on the inside, as I noted to Claire. There is something about the way discourse flows at all graduate colleges that I can’t actually explain yet, but that I can spot readily.

General comments:

  • Does anybody know when the police bike auction next term will be? I’d also like to know where they happen and what I would expect to pay for a used bike in good condition. Also, I need to figure out where I can get a helmet, lights, and a lock for a tolerable price. It’s annoying that I have all of those things back in Vancouver, but it would almost certainly cost more to ship than to buy here: especially if I can sell it in summer 2007.
  • I am worried about Frank. His posts are stranger than usual lately, and rather more self-destructive.
  • I need to devise a way to get from Oxford to Stansted Airport by about 4:45am on the 16th. Probably, a rather better idea is to find my way to Sarah’s house the evening prior. It’s in Radlett, which means nothing to me, but I will figure it out.
  • There’s a new episode of the excellent web comic Nine Planets Without Intelligent Life. You should take a peek.

Nerdy computer stuff:

  • Trying to get the blog to render properly in all browsers is a pageant of frustration. In IE, the sidebar sometimes appears at the bottom, sometimes on the side. This seems to vary between different computers and different versions of IE. In Safari, the font is entirely wrong: Serif instead of Sans-Serif, much too large, and bold when it shouldn’t be. Anyone with godly knowledge of CSS and HTML who feels inclined to help me will be praised most highly and received with profound appreciation. I really shouldn’t be spending so much time mucking around with this.
  • On a closely related note, not even PDF files, whose entire raison d’etre is to render identically in all environments, are no longer properly standardized. What is a mildly obsessive self-publisher to do?
  • One bug in Firefox 1.5: for some reason, pages I visit keep getting added to the Bookmarks Toolbar, without my ever requesting it.
  • Another: RSS feeds that are bookmarked will not display if opening them doesn’t leave enough space to the right to show the box.
  • Another: sometimes, the reload button vanishes
  • Blogger has been so slow and unreliable in the last few days that I am considering switching blogging services entirely, not just hosting servers. Which do people recommend and why?