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First, a sadness. Stanislaw Lem, an absolutely seminal sci-fi author, has died at the age of 84. Often thought-provoking, rarely predictable, his stories (including such well-known names as Solaris and The Cyberiad) offer a fascinating insight into the human condition. Once the most widely-read sci-fi author in the world, he will be missed.
On a more positive note, I tagged along with the Chemistry group on their trip to London yesterday. We left Brighton at some unearthly hour (1020) and spent the remains of the morning in the Science Museum. The ... (what should one call it? You can't have a replica of a thing that never existed, and 'model' doesn't seem right when the thing is full-size and fully functioning) instance of Babbage's second Difference Engine in the computing gallery never fails to impress, although the Chemistry display was depressingly small and minimalist. Oh well, can't have everything. The impromptu mini Pong tournament held on the Atari we found in the 'History of the Home' exhibit was kinda entertaining though.
Never go to the cafes in the Science Museum, by the way. The picnic area was jam-packed with primary-school kids, with all that implies, and the other cafes are hilariously over-priced (£3.90 for a cheese sandwich? I think not.)
Eventually it was time, so we took a taxi to the Houses of Parliament and got inside. There was a metal detector. *sigh*
Maybe some of you live with engineers, or you know some, or by chance you may even be one yourself. If so, you will be aware of the Engineer's Curse. We carry a prodigious amount of equipment with us in our daily lives, most of it with some function or another but a limited percentage that is just un-necessary. By happy coincidence I remembered to leave my pocket knife on my desk at home, but I think I stunned all the security guards and the guests waiting to pass through the checkpoint with the sheer quantity of harmless metallic objects that emerged from my combat trousers and coat. None of it was worthy of comment (not even the two-inch long claymore brooch on my lapel, which surprised me slightly), but it took a looooooooong time to process.
Eventually we made it inside that most ancient and august of buildings, and found our way to the room in which the Science and Technology Select Committee would be meeting. Now, the main reason we were there was to cause the VC trouble. We knew he was bringing a large entourage of cronies and supporters with him, and we knew there were a limited number of seats in the chamber. Our primary intention was to listen to the meeting (since members of the public with an interest in proceedings are allowed into the chamber if there is still space once the ministers and the press have been accomodated). Our secondary intention was to block seats so that the VC's delegation would be at least split up, and ideally partially excluded. Sure enough, a little cloud of bureaucrats turned up about five minutes before the meeting started (we'd been there an hour and ten), and the VC wandered about amongst our thirty-strong delegation in something of a daze, muttering comments to the effect of "Well, this should be interesting". Mister, you have no idea.
Through some administrative miracle, there were exactly enough seats in the chamber to accomodate everyone who was waiting. I have no idea how that happened, but I think we were all glad of it. The panel consisted of five ministers and various support staff, facing off against the VC, the Head of Chemistry and an official from HEFCE. I won't go into detail, since the official transcript will soon be available and it is a much more reliable source of information than my fickle and fading memory. Suffice to say that the HoD was concise, accomodating and informative while the VC contradicted himself seriously multiple times and the HEFCE man seemed to have no opinion on anything. All the MPs on-panel were asking some very insightful, intelligent, above all useful questions and evoking some uncomfortable silences. Almost as if they'd been primed ahead of time, really..... ;)
Eventually, the meeting drew to a close with a request for more documentation and mutterings about a full external audit (win, win). Members of the Press had been getting steadily more agitated throughout the meeting (some of their shorthand was positively sloppy by the end of it), and they streaked off as soon as the door opened. We sort of milled about in the corridor, waiting for the lecturers and academics on our side (including the HoD, of course) to emerge so we could all debrief together then catch a train home. It turns out that wasn't to happen. Brian Iddon (a member of today's select committee and MP for Bolton South-East) popped out before our staff and invited the lot of us out for a quick drink before we left. We expected to go to a small pub near the House. Instead, we went to Strangers' Bar.
Oh.
Strangers' Bar, the little drinking establishment buried deep in the Houses of Parliament, reputed to be the place were multiple seriously big deals were brokered, that is strictly members only and at which guests aren't permitted to buy drinks. Technically, Brian should have had a maximum of three guests, so getting all 24 of us in was something of a surprise, to be honest. That was quite an experience. I have a photo from the Strangers' Bar terrace, which I may post at some point in the near future.
Now we're all home again, and trying to get some rest after the manic nature of the day. Our next move as far as the campaign is concerned is not to move (how very Zen). We need to wait for the repurcussions of today's events, and the Senate and Council decisions, to play out and the investigative committee to be appointed before we can assess our next move. Our allies continue to move behind the scenes, investigating the accounts we finally had to hold the university at virtual gun-point to acquire, and with any luck we should have a report ready for the team when they talk to us. And they will talk to us, we'll make sure of that.
On the 13th of February, 2006, actor Andreas Katsulas finally lost his battle against lung cancer. He is best known for playing G'Kar in the television sci-fi Babylon 5, as well as a recurring part in Star Trek and multiple film appearances.
He, and by extension his character G'Kar, was one of comparatively few people who I think actually shaped the person I am today. One of the great B-List actors of our time. He will be missed.
Sadness
Andrew Gartland-Jones, known to friends and students as Drew, passed away over the weekend. Details are still unclear (this comes to me via a reliable but third-hand source), but it appears he suffered a stroke. He leaves a wife and two small children.
My sympathies go out to them, although of course they're unlikely to ever read this. He taught me on the Multimedia Systems course in my third year, and never failed to impress me with his openness and pro-active approach in all things.