KEV67

Did I ever tell you I had a PhD? Yeah, well, I do, but I don't like to mention it. It would be like a retired military officer referring to himself as Captain or Major. My PhD was something to do with solar panels and heat pumps. During the course of my PhD, I eventually had two papers published, although in a relatively crummy journal. The first was a literature review of similar projects to the one I was working on. I think that was published in a paper entitled Sustainable Engineering. The second was about my own research, which I first tried to submit to a high impact, Elsevier journal. After writing the paper, and replying to the criticisms of the referees twice over, the editor rejected the paper as being too much like a report. After that, I submitted the paper to Sustainable Engineering. After responding to the criticisms of another two referees, which involved almost a complete re-write, the paper was accepted. Then for years nobody read it. At least nobody cited it. Then I think Sustainable Engineering included it in some sort of book or compendium. After that people seemed to read it more. I recently got an email from www.academia.edu to say 422 people had mentioned my name. The thing is there are other academics who share my name. When I first started getting emails from this site, quite a few were for papers I had not written. I went into the website to disclaim my ownership of the papers I had not written, but since then I have left it alone. To find out about my mentions, I have to pay the Academia website £1, but I am not sure I want to. Of course, my supervisor's name is also on the two papers, but I did most of the actual writing. It took me a week just to copy out some diagrams from other papers I was citing. They have to be in incredible, high resolution.

I took my son Adrian to the Southgate Community Church in Bury St Edmunds this morning. I thought I was 10 minutes early, but the service started at 10.30, so I was late. The service was very child-oriented. At one point 11 children got onto the stage behind a screen, and they put on a sock puppet show, with 23 sock puppets. They were singing some sort of Country & Western spiritual song. So not very heavy on doctrine or ritual. Adrian slept through the first bit and woke up for the second bit. At another point the pastor asked everyone to talk to someone next to them about the best or worst party they went to. This was after the reading, which was about the woman who bathed Jesus's feet with expensive perfume, which some of the Apostles complained was an inappropriate use of money. This was just before Judas decided to betray Jesus. So, I suppose that party sucked. I am not much of a party person, but eventually my mind went back to a work Christmas party. We were bussed off somewhere and given some fake dollar bills to play in the casino. Later on the manager of Project Engineering was seen lying on his back on the dance floor, trying to push some fake dollar bills into the stocking of a woman from Sales and Marketing, which was pretty funny. The church warders, or whatever their positions, were kind and welcoming. They asked questions about me and Adrian and soon ascertained I was a single parent, relocating into the area. This must have raised other questions, which I am grateful they did not ask. Adrian is actually quite a friendly, little person, who likes meeting people. So, he didn't want to leave.

I honestly do not know how so many of these churches keep carrying on. I has a friend who was religious, and he gave 10% of his earnings to the church, but surely not many people do that. In Reading there were more churches than pubs. Drinkers generally go to the pub more than once a week. St Mary's, Church of England (continuing) only had about half a dozen regular members, but it was a big building they had to maintain. The Unitarian Church I go to once a month has about a dozen attendees. It is quite a nice, old building. I assume it can be hired out, but I still don't know how these churches keep going.

Almost in June and I am still reading it. Beowulf is in battle with the dragon. He has struck him in the head with his sword, but the blade has shattered. He is not fighting alone, however. One of his kinsmen has come to help him. His kinsman was at a disadvantage, because only Beowulf had a metal shield. His kinsman has had to come shelter behind Beowulf's shield, because his own has burnt away to the boss. It must be like fighting a cross between a Churchill tank equipped with the Crocodile flame-thrower equipment and a military helicopter. I was going to write a Black Apache helicopter, but in fairness the dragon does not any missiles. All Beowulf has is iron weaponry and armour, not even proper steel. He is still in the fight, which is not bad considering he is an old man of 70.

I went back to the Unitarians. Otherwise, I haven't. I might try the United Reform church close by, or some sort of independent church down the road. I expect the independent church has a band and is somewhat child oriented.

Daniel Defoe was a man of letters and no mistake. I started reading this. It was first published in 1724-6. I thought it would be like The Expedition of Humphry Clinker by Tobias Smollett, but it is not. It is much more factual. Humphry Clinker was about the doings of the horrible Squire Bramble. This is more like reportage. I am not very far in. Defoe is reporting on East Anglia. So far, the most shocking bit was that there was an area of lowland Essex where disease was rife. The farmers who had grown up there were immune to the diseases, but the wives they kept marrying were not. Why didn't they marry women who had grown up in the area? Anyway, Defoe has got to Ipswich. At one point of time, Ipswich was renowned for building collier ships.

Dear Souls is a bit jumpy, or at least the second volume is. Parts of the text are missing and the books stops unexpectedly. It is still quite good. You get a sense of life in 19th Century provincial Russia.

Depends who you read. Leo Tolstoy does not write about poverty much. Most the characters in his books are royalty or aristocracy.

I have not read any Chekhov either, but he was a playwright, wasn't he?

This is my seventh Russian classic, only Eugene Onegin to go and I've done Russia (if I ignore the likes of Solzhenitsyn). It is an odd sort of novel. It was written in the 1840s when Russian landowners still owned serfs. I think that situation changed not long after. It's about this man called Chichikov. He is buying the title deeds of dead serfs from landowners. Landowners had to pay tax on their serfs, even dead ones, until the next census confirmed they were dead. Therefore, the landowners are fairly willing to sell the souls, only they are not sure what Chichikov wants with them. Is it legal? How much is a dead serf worth. Chichikov has some scam in mind, but I am not clear how it is supposed to work. I suppose it is to appear richer than he is, so people will lend you money or invest in your schemes. The first volume is a satire on provincial rural life in Russia. The second volume is more a state of the nation story. I do not think the book comes to a proper end. I think it just breaks off. Just two chapters to go.

I watched an episode of The Avengers last night. There were about six people dressed up in costumes and one of them was bumping off the others. Suspicion fell on Steed. What a cast list! Apart from Patrick MacGee and Diana Rigg, there was a young Brian Blessed, a young Charlotte Rampling and a young Donald Sutherland. So one future Hollywood star and a future film actress. I am glad Charlotte Rampling and Brian Blessed are still around. Charlotte Rampling keeps going from strength to strength.

I have almost finished another Dick Francis book called Trial Run. It is set just before the Olympic Games in Moscow in 1980. It has a horsey connection. An aristocrat is set to take part in the 3 day eventing. Previously a German 3 day eventer died of a heart attack. A retired steeplechase jockey is leaned on to find out more and flies out to Moscow. Needless to say it wasn't a heart attack. I am really quite impressed by the plotting. I am quite interested in the style too. In the penultimate chapter the steeplechaser reflects on the nature of revolutionary fanatics. It reminded me of those British Jihadi fanatics who went to Syria to fight for Daesh. For me it is slightly odd, because I remember the late 70s and 80s, but much has changed. No Internet and no mobile phones is an obvious difference, but the steeplechaser had to retire because he has severe astigmatisms in both eyes and could not see without glasses, which the racing authorities banned as a safety measure. These days he would have laser surgery.

I was sad to hear he had died, although he must have been getting old. I have read a number of his books, including Paradise News, Nice Work, Ginger You're Barmy, Changing Places, Small World, A Man of Parts, Author Author, and one or two others. He was a professor in English as well as an author himself. I read in this month's The Critic that he ran a year long teaching class just on Ulysses by James Joyce. It would take that long to understand it. It seems he taught all that French deconstructionist stuff that doesn't make much sense to me.

My favourite Johnny Rotten story was when he criticised Freddie Mercury for singing with an opera singer. I suppose they were at some sort of award ceremony or party. Freddie Mercury replied, "We do our best, Mr Horrible."

I went to the Unitarians in Bury St Edmunds again. The pastor said there would be a ten minute meeting after the service. He described it as an opportunity some would like to benefit from. I didn't like the sound of that, especially as one of the readings was from Acts of the Apostles. It was the bit where there was no want in the community, because anyone who had land or property sold it and gave the proceeds to the community. He did not read the next verses, which I remember as being one of the most chilling parts of the New Testament. Two followers sold their property, but did not hand over the entire proceeds. They were struck dead. Christianity rowed back on that position, thankfully. I escaped before tea and biscuits.