A little checkpoint on the university progress. I've had the first of five tutorials now.
Up to this point it's been a "phoney course" in WW2 terminology. I had a pack of books, a website log-in, a few downloads and software installs ... and that was it. The course started on the seventh. Yesterday, the seventeenth, was the first tutorial, and the preparation was only basically getting a computer set up. I looked at the first assignment, and it told me to try the relevant computer-marked exercises first, so I looked online, and the exercises won't be available until the twenty-first. So I wondered exactly what I was supposed to be doing.
Well, it turns out I should be partway through unit two by now. The glossy books, which looked to me like useful things to refer to, turn out to BE the course. I'm actually supposed to DO the little tests that appear every other page - they're not just rhetorical devices. Oops. I suspect I'm not temperamentally suited to formal education. I have become accustomed to absorbing information as required, and actual work looks like hardship ... or maybe I do have student attitudes?
But the tutorial was interesting, not because of the content (it was all about the background aspects of the course, and no mention of the content of the course), but because of the people and so on. The tutor is a nice guy, quite traditional but easy-going, the classroom is in a childcare department and decorated accordingly, and eight of nineteen students turned up. Most of the others live miles away - mind you, the guy next to me had travelled about two hours.
As might be expected on a distance course, the main point in common between us was an attempt to better ourselves. Most people seemed to have a feeling that they had so far settled for something short of their ambitions, and this was a step towards doing something about it. There were delivery-drivers and technicians, and one woman with two jobs (full-time and part-time) and two children as well as the course. One guy was a herdsman (his description) who wanted to learn about computers before robots were installed to do the milking of his cows, another worked in military security and is apparently one of the ones who gets stick whenever a laptop is left on a train as appears in the news with monotonous regularity, and another writes blurb for eBay. All reminded me of the later stages of my education before, once it was optional, in that there was a set of people together who might not be natural at what's on the agenda, but they're going to give it a good try. I felt a bit of a dilettante by comparison, just as I did before.
Two of the eight people also live near me, so just maybe that might be a social link too. We shall see.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Darwin Anniversary
If you follow the news, it's hard to avoid the fact that Charles Darwin's two-hundredth birthday has just been and gone. No doubt my old fellows among the brethren have had a few reminders of the evils he brought into the world, as there are always a few people looking to spice up the regular meeting fare with something topical.
As with so many hard-core religious groups, the theory of evolution is an absolute offence to the brethren. It always seems to me a slightly odd way to think, but the approach is that it MUST be wrong, and therefore any evidence will be interpreted in that light. They're not by any means alone: I saw today that apparently the latest statistics say that fifteen percent of people believe Darwin's theories.
Somebody ( I think Stephen Jay Gould) said that the difference with evolution is not that it's hard to understand, but that people go to such lengths to avoid understanding it. Certainly that's the case with many non-believers (in evolution, that is) I know. I continue to find it hard to accept that such a logical proposition can meet such resistance, but when presented with the theory such people seem able to distort it into something they can then demolish to their own satisfaction in straw-man fashion. Quite why they should go to such mental trouble, I'm not sure. It must surely be quite a hostage to fortune for the future, just as the Catholic church found with the theory of heliocentricity.
Personally, I can't recall a time when I actively disbelieved in evolution. I can remember being surprised to find that my brain was somehow compartmentalised, and I was happy to believe in creation and evolution at the same time, quite literally. I don't know how old I would have been. I still don't see why a Creator God shouldn't have chosen to use a sensible means of creation like Darwinism, but I don't think I even thought that far when I was younger.
Mind you, depending on who you ask among the brethren, they are careful not to be too vigourous in their denunciation of Darwin. There is a line of retreat left in that they carefully accept that creatures adapt and change according to the pressures of their environment, so presumably there will be a face-saving way of changing the doctrine if they ever need to face some hard facts that prove the unpalatable.
In a way, the brethren show the essence of Darwinism in their endless changes. The whole group has come a long way since the eighteen-hundreds, constantly adapting to pressures on their beliefs and way of life. It's often not pretty, but change is there when it's needed for survival.
And my favourite snippet from the anniversary news coverage concerned some eminent Victorian woman, who apparently said after reading The Origin of Species that she didn't see why everybody made such a fuss of Mr Darwin - after all, if she'd had the same facts she'd have come to the same conclusion. That, I think, is the reasonable and honest thought anyone must have if they allow themselves to understand (not to take anything away from the genius of the man, of course).
As with so many hard-core religious groups, the theory of evolution is an absolute offence to the brethren. It always seems to me a slightly odd way to think, but the approach is that it MUST be wrong, and therefore any evidence will be interpreted in that light. They're not by any means alone: I saw today that apparently the latest statistics say that fifteen percent of people believe Darwin's theories.
Somebody ( I think Stephen Jay Gould) said that the difference with evolution is not that it's hard to understand, but that people go to such lengths to avoid understanding it. Certainly that's the case with many non-believers (in evolution, that is) I know. I continue to find it hard to accept that such a logical proposition can meet such resistance, but when presented with the theory such people seem able to distort it into something they can then demolish to their own satisfaction in straw-man fashion. Quite why they should go to such mental trouble, I'm not sure. It must surely be quite a hostage to fortune for the future, just as the Catholic church found with the theory of heliocentricity.
Personally, I can't recall a time when I actively disbelieved in evolution. I can remember being surprised to find that my brain was somehow compartmentalised, and I was happy to believe in creation and evolution at the same time, quite literally. I don't know how old I would have been. I still don't see why a Creator God shouldn't have chosen to use a sensible means of creation like Darwinism, but I don't think I even thought that far when I was younger.
Mind you, depending on who you ask among the brethren, they are careful not to be too vigourous in their denunciation of Darwin. There is a line of retreat left in that they carefully accept that creatures adapt and change according to the pressures of their environment, so presumably there will be a face-saving way of changing the doctrine if they ever need to face some hard facts that prove the unpalatable.
In a way, the brethren show the essence of Darwinism in their endless changes. The whole group has come a long way since the eighteen-hundreds, constantly adapting to pressures on their beliefs and way of life. It's often not pretty, but change is there when it's needed for survival.
And my favourite snippet from the anniversary news coverage concerned some eminent Victorian woman, who apparently said after reading The Origin of Species that she didn't see why everybody made such a fuss of Mr Darwin - after all, if she'd had the same facts she'd have come to the same conclusion. That, I think, is the reasonable and honest thought anyone must have if they allow themselves to understand (not to take anything away from the genius of the man, of course).
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Mad Sardinian Concert
It's been a while, but we managed to get some music this weekend. Firstly a folk club on Friday night, then a free concert at a Southbank concert hall on Saturday.
I don't know where the money come from for these free concerts but they are quite regular. In this case, it was a proper hall, full audience, real ticketing, and freebies on the seats to boot. Brilliant, and all at the cost of the train ticket into town. I suspect a tourist board must have had a hand in this one, as it was accompanied by plugs about the beauties of Sardinia. The audience seemed to have a bias towards Italian, too, and there was a very laid-back feel to it.
It was a great concert in its own right, though. A trumpeter of apparent fame was the key man and musical director, and it was a fusion (or maybe collision) of folk music and jazz, with a character which was nothing like anything else I've seen (not that I'm all that experienced yet). The first half showcased the music and performers, and then the second half was a kind of live soundtrack to a carefully put together mix of monochrome archive footage from 1930s Sardinian life.
I have to say the performances were quite remarkable. There was a four-part male choir (billed as polyphonic), a female singer, a special-effects cellist, a bassist, a drummer. Besides that there was the trumpet (and flugelhorn) man, a man on a guitarish instrument that I think was called a Mandola, a punk jazz accordionist, and a quite incredible man playing what I have to call the madpipes - apparently a type of Sardinian folk instrument. They were like wooden flutes or recorders, appeared to come in different varieties according to key, and he mostly played two at once. More than that, he played them in a continuous flow that made me quite tired to watch: the notes just never stopped! I remember learning about circular breathing when I had trumpet lessons, and this was obviously that. The playing never stopped for an "in" breath. Mind-boggling.
The actual music flowed back and forth between mellow melodic folk with a bit of beat to full-on free-form jazz. The accordionist appeared to be able to do both at once, but then what can you expect from a man with a skull-and-crossbones on his beanie hat. Each instrument had a bit of a solo, and in the case of the cello, seemed to be out to prove that you don't need anything else in order to provide all the sound effects for a film.
The film segments struck me oddly. It was nice to see tradition and old-fashioned ways live on film, and lots of it was lovely. But I felt there was an uncanny resonance between the people and the brethren as I know them, and I'm not sure exactly why that was. They looked wholesome, I suppose, and the dress sense had a similar feel even though they were wearing traditional Sardinian folk costumes and the brethren wear modern styles. I think it was the feel more than the look, and the air of always having something practical to be getting on with. Anyway, it felt exotic and oddly familiar at the same time.
To sum up, this was well worth an evening out. Anybody with access to London shouldn't dismiss a concert because it's free - they can be very good!
I don't know where the money come from for these free concerts but they are quite regular. In this case, it was a proper hall, full audience, real ticketing, and freebies on the seats to boot. Brilliant, and all at the cost of the train ticket into town. I suspect a tourist board must have had a hand in this one, as it was accompanied by plugs about the beauties of Sardinia. The audience seemed to have a bias towards Italian, too, and there was a very laid-back feel to it.
It was a great concert in its own right, though. A trumpeter of apparent fame was the key man and musical director, and it was a fusion (or maybe collision) of folk music and jazz, with a character which was nothing like anything else I've seen (not that I'm all that experienced yet). The first half showcased the music and performers, and then the second half was a kind of live soundtrack to a carefully put together mix of monochrome archive footage from 1930s Sardinian life.
I have to say the performances were quite remarkable. There was a four-part male choir (billed as polyphonic), a female singer, a special-effects cellist, a bassist, a drummer. Besides that there was the trumpet (and flugelhorn) man, a man on a guitarish instrument that I think was called a Mandola, a punk jazz accordionist, and a quite incredible man playing what I have to call the madpipes - apparently a type of Sardinian folk instrument. They were like wooden flutes or recorders, appeared to come in different varieties according to key, and he mostly played two at once. More than that, he played them in a continuous flow that made me quite tired to watch: the notes just never stopped! I remember learning about circular breathing when I had trumpet lessons, and this was obviously that. The playing never stopped for an "in" breath. Mind-boggling.
The actual music flowed back and forth between mellow melodic folk with a bit of beat to full-on free-form jazz. The accordionist appeared to be able to do both at once, but then what can you expect from a man with a skull-and-crossbones on his beanie hat. Each instrument had a bit of a solo, and in the case of the cello, seemed to be out to prove that you don't need anything else in order to provide all the sound effects for a film.
The film segments struck me oddly. It was nice to see tradition and old-fashioned ways live on film, and lots of it was lovely. But I felt there was an uncanny resonance between the people and the brethren as I know them, and I'm not sure exactly why that was. They looked wholesome, I suppose, and the dress sense had a similar feel even though they were wearing traditional Sardinian folk costumes and the brethren wear modern styles. I think it was the feel more than the look, and the air of always having something practical to be getting on with. Anyway, it felt exotic and oddly familiar at the same time.
To sum up, this was well worth an evening out. Anybody with access to London shouldn't dismiss a concert because it's free - they can be very good!
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