I have been relatively silent for a while, mainly because I've been too dehydrated of creativity to feel that I should post anything I've encountered in life recently. Unless you're particularly interested in Jewish political history, of course. But I thought that you should all know that Mansfield's JCR motto, 'from the sublime to the ridiculous' was used in this evening's episode of The Archers. I'm sure it was a direct reference.

Shiur'im Sha'rim

It seems the thing to do here is to slightly invert the post that has gone before, qua 'Being a soulless scientismist, I am less aware of music. Consequently, I've decided to take Pete's concept in a bit of a different direction.' and 'I was going to hop on the waggon train and do my own songs of the year, but there was a slight problem...' And as I am of the opinion that I read far too much academic writing to have any time for originality, it would seem appropriate to do the same, so I intend to list a few milestone songs: you know, tracks that signify musical moments, significant eras, wotnot.
Pre-University (because everything now can be divided into pre-University, before real life began and university - there not being a post-uni era as yet) Fool on the Hill, by the Beatles. Yeah, it's hard being the only literate resident of your council estate... My parents were of the appropriate generation, and on the right side of the mods-rocker divide to furnish my brother and I with a childhood soundtrack that consisted largely of Beatles LP's. So, when it came to the '90's, I'm proud to say that I eschewed the saccharine pop of preference amongst my peers and chose a healthy diet of Brit-pop. And now, there's nothing like Blur, Pulp... not Coldplay.... to evoke memories of fun and sunny Britishness, when Labour had just come into power and it was the era of the working man. How things change. Early university years, Morrissey, hence Nathan's designation in the 'No F in 'Acebook Group', which I can't link to...stinky. Miserable, poetic and ever so slightly militant vegetarian. These days I go for big sounds, be it of the obvious big band Jools Holland variety, good indie-pop (Feeling, Kooks, Rundown - a lesser known band from the mean streets of Brum - all the way back to the Strokes, the Clash, the Jam and Madness) or the 1812 overture. The era of the pod-cast has increasingly pigeon holed my music listening into that what I listen to when I need to make life feel alive and jumpy, as opposed to filling empty sound, as was my wont. Sorry guys, the allure of 'ask the priest.com' and 'Jewish podcast weekly' is just too strong. I also listen to an enormous amount of Israeli music, partly to keep my Hebrew ticking over, but also to support those great musicians who are trying to break down barriers in Israeli society, Idan Raichel being one that you might have heard of.
As for a soundtrack to Canada, last term it was 'Float on' by Modest Mouse: a really great 'go on, go to school, things will be better once you don't live with a weirdo' track. Now however, I'm sitting in my new living room, watching the snow fall, to the effect of instant prettiness - maybe the track for this semester is something by Teddy Thompson.

And you know that every female who read Little Women at an impressionable age has a secret desire to meet a guy called 'Teddy.'

Well, if we're all doing it...

I fear this will be a significantly less cosmopolitan tale than my fellow posters, but here goes. I'm entirely brummie, aside from my paternal grandmother who was born and brought up in Wales, at least for the first 20 years or so of her life. The net result, as she and her brother used to look after me before I was old enough to go to school, was a slight Welsh tinge to an otherwise brummie accent, a penchant for leeks, and an ability to sing 'the little saucepan is boiling on the fire' in Welsh. Other than that, it's all brum. But, we're an interesting mix unto ourselves. Living near the Black Country means that brummies from my part of the city have a fairly distinct regional dialect: not only do we all sound like Ozzy Osborne, but we have different words for stuff too. For example: the phrase "I dae want a piece from yam yow, tarra a bit.' translates as 'I don't want a sandwhich from you, good-bye.' Whilst recognising that deepest darkest Devon and its environs has a much more interesting dialect tradition, it's still pretty neat. And enough to make us the linguistic butt of many a jest. (Ye olde brummie joke (say it in the accent) - what's the diference between a buffalo and a bison? You can't watch your hands in a buffalo.) And there's a certain amount of positive identity generated when you come from a city considered one of the worst in Britain, and with a population widely considered to be a few braincells short of basic literacy. This isn't entiely innacurate, though on the aesthetic side, there has been substantial redevelopment of the city centre, and not all of it is this ugly. In reality, the sprawling suburbs of the second city are very divided: the 'haves' concentrated around Solihull, (those living within in it emphasizing the last syllable and pronouncing the first to rhyme with 'holy', the rest of us referring to the place as 'solly' (ryhme with molly) 'ull.') And the 'have-nots' sprawl everywhere else. The former vote Tory, go to the cricket at Edgbaston and recitals at Birmingham University Conservertoire. The latter vote labour, watch the footie at villa park or St Andrews (but never the twain shall meet) and occasionally get casual work washing up after fancy recitals at the university. And being such a loarge city means that the only way to have a decent quality of life means having a car. Those who don't venture from sprawling estate to sprawling estate on foot or by sometimes dangerous public transport. And by estate, I'm not referring to any of your deer and Capability Brown nonsense.

I would hope that in 20 years time, brummies have shaken off their inferiority complex and have taken advantage of the many opportunities for young people in the city. Many do live below the poverty line, and strong local councils are effective in terms of their long term strategic efforts to make education a grass roots and accessible commodity. But the rule of chav culture and inverse anti-education snobbery prevails, and in the search for an identity, more and more kids of tender teenage years turn to early Mother and Father-hood.

The story in Hamilton, from what I have learned thus far, is suprisingly similar. Stay tuned.

Gee-ay-knee-us! Let the trans-atlantic posting begin!

Also, Genesis 11:1-9, if I'm not very much mistaken?