Still surviving as a mature fresher

February 13th, 2010

Question: How long does it take to turn a bright-eyed, enthusiastic, mature-student Bangor history undergraduate into an overwhelmed, dazed and confused wreck?

Answer: About two weeks, but about the same period to bounce back!

confusedIn Freshers’ Week I recall being given so much information that I couldn’t recall anything reliably. Subsequently, I learned to survive by becoming part of a group of seven friends, mostly mature students living in towns and villages between Penygroes and Mold. The whole semester I managed to have one of the group to follow to the appropriate seminar room or lecture theatre as I could never remember which room to go to.

I wrestled with complex mathematical calculations of how on earth you could do 200 hours reading for each module, plus lectures, seminars, essays and exams. I was either going to have to give up eating (good idea in my case) or sleep. The next complication is the area-based student nightmare of finding a parking space convenient for the University. You either develop your parking skills for small spaces or settle for a space on Anglesey and walk.

Many things puzzled me in that first semester. Why are lecture theatres either like saunas or cold-stores? How do you get books out of the library for your essays before every title on your list has been taken? Where is a book with the catchy location RC178.A1 C63 2002 to be found and is The Stack some Bangor University pop group?

sleepyreading_LargeAs the semester wore on those dreaded deadline essays take over your life. We’d all been terrified by the stories of summary executions for the culprits of the heinous crime of plagiarism and of floggings for those who use Wikipedia. In this terrifying atmosphere our word processors agonisingly slowly racked up the word-count to those magical 2000 words. Then suddenly, you’ve somehow reached 2400 and are cutting frantically.

The University email system intrigues me. The bizarrely named Horde turned out to be nothing to do with nomadic Mongol tribes but an email client about as friendly as Simon Cowell at a Jedward tribute dinner. It’s no wonder that students prefer to use their Hotmail accounts. Blackboard, the Uni’s central facility for PowerPoints, manuals and other module information, however, is a really helpful and easy to use resource. Sadly, not all the lecturers think so, with the sad result several don’t use it. In that context, I can’t believe how often I’m asked for my user name and password in the Uni’s computer system. You’d think that once you are in a secure area, once would do. But it won’t. I’ve put in mine hundreds and hundreds of times. Also, should I worry that every time I log in on my laptop to the Bangor web site, my computer screams at me that the Uni has an invalid security certificate?

I got to about week six before I realised that I had to set my pace and my tasks. I know, in the words of Basil Fawlty, that’s a statement of the bleedin’ obvious but that led to much midnight oil to catch up. I couldn’t have managed without the gang, especially Neil, who gave me copies of notes which meant I got essays in on time.

examsExams, however, were a different matter. On Saturday 9th January, two days before the start of the exam fortnight, I was busy reading about Treweryn and Penyberth when I became of someone calling. I went outside to investigate and discovered my wife Christine had fallen and, as it turned out, broken her leg in several places. She was getting furious with Rhosyn, our lovely Welsh Collie, who kept bringing her a ball to throw. Clearly, she needed to see some Lassie films! I called an ambulance that couldn’t get near our house on the snow (we’re 1028 feet on a mountain-side and we were snowed in) so Christine had a dramatic trip in an air ambulance to Ysbyty Gwynedd. It played havoc with my exam schedule and I missed three exams but my tutor and the other lecturers could not have been more sympathetic and helpful.

She’s home now and I have dusted off old cooking skills as well as clothes washing, ironing and cleaning skills as Christine can’t weight bear for three months. Again, the Uni has helped with a car-park pass so I can zoom in and out of lectures and seminars without searching for a parking spot and friends are recording lectures I can’t make.

I attended Serendipity 2 with some trepidation after my disappointing experience last time when I was ignored by students who thought I was too old to be an undergrad. This time it was a delightful event – less crowded, more friendly and easier to speak with people. I stopped to chat at the Chaplaincy stand and one of the Chaplains introduced me to the Catholic Chaplain who amazed me by asking after Christine and told me they knew of her accident and had been praying.

That event summed-up my Bangor experience. I’ve found the people at Bangor University to be a supportive family through my wobbles – my six close friends, my personal tutor, the lecturers, and several other History students. Now, solve the car-parking problem long-term and I’ll be a happy Bangor bunny (until the next essay deadline).

This article flowed in an hour to 892 words. Why can’t essays be that easy?

Christine and twins!

January 17th, 2010

Well, it’s exactly a week since Christine’s and my world turned upside down. At 12.30pm on Saturday 9 January I was revising for University exams starting three days later, Christine was outside doing odd jobs. Forty minutes later she was in a helicopter making the three minute flight to Ysbyty Gwynedd. I discovered she had been laying on the ice for 45 minutes and her temperature was under 35 degrees C. She had multiple fractures of her tibia and fibula – the leg bones below her right knee, and had damaged her knee. After two days of nil-by-mouth because of surgery which was then cancelled, she finally had a five-hour reconstructive surgery on Wednesday. Apparently, the radiographers who took the post-operative x-ray were stunned at the amount of metal in her leg. That, together with the plate in her wrist from the surgery after a fall nine months ago means she’ll never get through an airport scanner again! My son Mark wants to try attaching the fridge magnets that our grandson Logan enjoys playing with. I’m married to my own Bionic Woman!

Hospital’s always an awful experience and Christine managed to convince everyone she was ready to come home. With the help of Robin, who is a doctor friend of ours in A&E who conveniently ended a shift and drove us home in his van, we got Christine home at 6.30pm Friday with the extra help of Robin’s family. Christine has a really heavy, full-leg plaster cast and was told she can’t weight-bear for three months. She has a walking frame to move around slowly.

It’s going to mean major changes at home as she really needs someone to be with her all the time. After one day as a carer, I have a rapidly increasing respect for the heroes who care for relatives full-time. I’m rediscovering my cooking abilities (how long do you cook carrots?) and how to use a washing machine (where does the Persil go? what temperature for sheets?). Thank goodness for Tesco Online! Thank God too for church friends like Robin and for Joy and Roberta who brought meals to start me off.

I don’t know what this means for University. The accident happened at the start of exam week and I missed one exam but got in for another. However, I’ve been able to do little revision and I have two more exams next week. The following week semester two starts and I’m scheduled for nine hours of lectures and seminars each week. They’re aware of the situation and are both understanding and supportive.

Oh, and the twins reference? No, not Christine but when I visited Christine just before her operation, I met Mark, Samantha and Logan at Christine’s bedside. Sam had just come straight from the ante-natal clinic at the hospital to show us the scan photo of the new baby due in July. The surprise to us all (especially Sam) is that she’s expecting twins! There’s never a dull moment in the lives of the Dicken family in Snowdonia.

What a difference a day makes!

January 11th, 2010

Last week I spent finishing off an essay and revising for exams due to start today (11 Jan). I had spent about four hours revising on Saturday morning when I suddenly became aware of someone calling, although I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I ignored it for a while but eventually went to investigate. To my horror I found Christine lying on the ground clearly in serious pain. The medical professional in her was still operating and she said, ‘Call an ambulance and tell them I’ve broken my right tib and fib. Then bring me a duvet, a pillow and two paracetemols.’ As I say, ever professional!

Loading Christine into the air ambulance

Loading Christine into the air ambulance

The paramedic who came was great but said we couldn’t get an ambulance up our drive (we’re still snowbound) and called the air ambulance. In less than four minutes from take off she was at Ysbyty Gwynedd!

Since then it’s been a whirlwind! It turns out that Christine’s diagnosis was accurate but only part of the story. It was a very bad break in several places and her knee and tibial plateau (whatever that is) has been damaged as well. She had a CT scan this afternoon and the Consultant Surgeon has decided to do the operation to pin and plate tomorrow as it will be a long job and he wants to be fresh. I’ll drink to that!

In the words of the song, What a difference a day makes. From immersion in University exam revision to hospital visits, running things at Trosgol, trying to keep everyone informed, walk the dog, and worry for Wales. Well I shouldn’t, but I do. I even managed to get lost on a 7 mile journey I’ve done hundreds of times!

One thing I am overwhelmed by is people’s kindness. From friends at Church, University friends, Facebook friends, everyone is universally caring. I can’t think very straight at present and people have spotted needs and come up with specific offers. One friend has taken our Welsh Collie Rhosyn for a few days as she is completely confused by Christine’s absence and I have to shut her in while I am in the hospital. I’ve been inundated with offers of meals – I’m torn between pretending to be a New Man, equally at home in the kitchen and accepting the offers. Actually with my fried brain at present, I think the offers win! Also, a couple of pals, Robin and Paul, have regularly rung up just to check I’m OK.

Thanks to the more than 50 people who have sent good wishes and prayers on Facebook, the 37 people who’ve sent texts and those who’ve rung. I have to say that if ever I’m asked to do one of those vacuous interviews where people list all sorts of things about themselves; when it gets to the question, ‘What is the greatest human attribute?’ – I’ll answer in a heartbeat – kindness.

2010, essays and snow.

January 3rd, 2010

Oh no! How can I have missed a whole month of my blog and record of life at Bangor University? Well, it’s mostly about the fact that I need every moment I’m not eating, sleeping or performing bodily functions to work on Uni projects.

You see, I came late to the realisation that I have to initiate my work and mustn’t just wait to for it to be assigned. That long list of books we were given is there for a reason. So, about six weeks into the semester I realised that the majority of my knowledge was going to come with what I read myself and make notes on. Only a relatively small amount was going to come via lectures and seminars. I’m sure to most people that would be, as Basil Fawlty elegantly put it, a statement of the “bleedin’ obvious”. However, I’ve done two more essays since then with encouraging marks resulting so it looks like I’ve got the idea at last.

These Christmas ‘holidays’ have been anything but. Apart from enjoying some family time (and our new HD tv) I’ve been working on the world’s most tedious essay about why Britain industrialised earlier than Germany. I should be doing the finishing touches now, but any distraction is welcome. All that’s left is an essay about Charles V, a Welsh assignment and revision for four exams starting in 8 days.  Take me now, Lord!

View of Moel Eilio from our living room on Christmas day

View of Moel Eilio from our living room on Christmas day

We’ve been a bit distracted by the snow up here at Trosgol – not that deep, but our drive became an impassible glassy slope which necessitated a commando raid on a roadside grit bin.

I’ve been reflecting on some of the blogs and Facebook updates I’ve seen and the general concensus seems to be negative about 2009. I can’t say I share that view and I’m optimistic about 2010 as well. I’m aware that I’m an incurable optimist but I’ve made six loopy, caring, space-cadet, supportive friends who are on the same courses at Bangor and they’ve taught me a lot. I’m loooking forward to Father Josh’s stories of a more eventful life of 20 years than mine of three times that number. I miss winding up Gary – mind you, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. Quiet Joe’s radical politics stir me up; Rhonwen’s patience with me as I ask for yet another phrase in Welsh; Jen who gets so worked up about things and finally Neil Messerschmitt who pretends to be a Yid Army (Spurs supporters) hooligan hard man, but in reality is a completely kind softy (with an infinite capacity for beer). Incidentally, he had a tattoo of a verse from Psalm 23 in Welsh a week or so before Christmas – how cool is that!

I’ve decided on a New Year resolution: at least two blogs per month. We’ll see.

It’s time to wear purple!

November 12th, 2009
Real men wear purple

Real men wear purple

One of my favourite poems is by Jenny Joseph and it’s titled WARNING! Here’s an extract:

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me,
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

Events of the last couple of weeks that sprang out of responses to a couple of Facebook status updates have caused me to re-evaluate a lot of things and the closing lines of the poem have made me into a man on a mission. In fact as a Blues Brothers fan, I should say, “I’m on a mission from God!”

So here goes. As at 9.00am I have 344 Facebook friends. I expect that to drop considerably as a result of these comments. I’ve had a Christian faith for 45 years and have never wavered in my confidence that God loves me. However, I’ve walked a path where I’ve been on the fringe of things in Christian circles because I have always reacted against the intolerance shown to many groups of people. After all, Jesus was always found with the marginalised people.

At Halloween I posted a status encouraging my Christian friends to bury their knee-jerk reactions against the witches and ghosts and accept it was kids having fun. It was an opportunity to build bridges with kids and their parents hovering in the background. I posted a supportive comment on a friend’s wall who had expressed the same sentiment. All hell broke loose. I was flamed by bitter Christians and supported by people on a journey to faith and, I’m glad to say, some of my Christian friends. Figure that out. Some 25 comments resulted and because of the aggression of some, I removed the post as did my friend who experienced the same thing.

Yesterday, I foolishly left my computer unattended with Facebook open. It was too much for Neil and Josh. My brand new status told the world “Paul Dicken has decided to quit to university! im sorry people i jus cant handle the pressure and stress , i hope you can all understand. After long talks with father josh ive decided to join the catholic priest hood and serve the holy God our father. i ask of all my friends to help me through this difficult tym in my life. Thanks and God Bless x” Fortunately, the style, punctuation and spelling were a little different from mine and several friends guessed what had happened.

I was amazed that between that and my subsequent post explaining that I wasn’t planning on joining the Catholic priesthood (and threatening dire retribution on Josh!), some 35 comments and messages were sent. I was touched by the concern of those who thought I may be in trouble and amused by some of the responses. People came out of the woodwork from everywhere.

So, I’m going to say what I really think about things in the future. I shall speak out about intolerance and lack of acceptance. I have a son who is gay and who has a clear unequivocal Christian faith. I’m going to speak out about the lack of acceptance there is in the Churches for people like my son and I perhaps it’s time to shoot some sacred cows. I no longer care what people think – I’ll understand if you delete me from your list of Facebook friends if you’re offended. I’m relaxed that I do have a great group of friends -some with a faith and some without – who will be patient with me.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Look out for the Man in Purple!

The 1960’s were only yesterday…

October 30th, 2009

It’s an strage irony that many of the things that I’m learning in my Welsh History course happened during my lifetime. I recall the trauma of going into the Science Museum several years ago and seeing a punched-card sorting machine that I used daily during my time working in payrolls with British Rail in 1966-67. That was probably the first time I realised I was growing older.

Summer of love

Summer of love

This week we’ve talked about three things that happened during my favourite period in history – the 1960s. I entered the decade a pre-teen (just) and left it a new adult at 21 – ironically, in the year the UK reduced the voting age to 18. It was the decade of the Civil Rights Movement, the Swinging 60’s, folk-rock, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Rolling Stones, the Mersey sound, the Summer of Love, Woodstock, the death of John Kennedy and Martin Luther King, the first man on the moon, social revolutions, rise of feminism, anti Vietnam war protests, Harold Macmillan and Harold Wilson, plus, of course, England winning the World Cup.

In one lecture, we talked about the student riots in France of May 1968 led by Daniel Cohn-Bendit. I was detained by French police in Calais that month for three hours for some reason I never quite understood. The only thing I had in common with Cohn-Bendit was fiery red hair!

'Cofiwch Dreweryn' ('Remember Treweryn') Graffiti on A487 near Aberystwyth

'Cofiwch Dreweryn' ('Remember Treweryn') Graffiti on A487 near Aberystwyth

In Birth of Modern Wales we discussed Treweryn – the disastrous decision to flood a Welsh valley to provide water supplies for Liverpool, the real need for which was unproven. Bessie Bradock (a famous portly outspoken Liverpool MP) bulldozed this through and Liverpool Council arrogantly refused to meet a delegation of Welsh local people. Still today “Cofiwch Dreweryn” (”Remember Treweryn”) arouses passions. As a young teenager I remember watching tv images of men women and children marching to protest about the theft of Welsh water and the destruction of a beautiful valley.

The Aberfan slag heap collapsed on the school

The Aberfan slag heap collapsed on the school

Of course, 1966 saw the neglect and arrogance of the National Coal Board result in the death of 116 children and 28 adults at Aberfan. Despite the warnings of the instability of the slag heap, nothing was done and 144 people died. I recall crying as I saw the grainy black and white images on my tv at home. I visited Aberfan subsequently and published a tribute online. Do have a look at www.hiraeth.org.uk/aberfan I was encouraged when several of my student friends were knowledgeable about events that occurred before they were born.

Dinorwig quarry

Dinorwig quarry

Finally, I was discussing with a PhD student the effects of the closure of the Dinorwig Quarry in 1969 on the community of Deiniolen where I live. It’s a shadow of what it was, a large number of unemployed people, few facilities for kids, and over 20 shops and restaurants have closed leaving a single shop and a dispirited community with no heart or focus except the thriving primary school.

The common thread in all these rather depressing incidents is the arrogance, insensitivity and poor response of officialdom in situations in which they did evrything wrongly. Unlike many people, I become more left-wing every passing day!

So the 1960s weren’t as wonderful as I remember them. But I’m glad I lived through them and can say, ‘I was there!’

Hollol wallgo

October 29th, 2009

So my first essay is submitted and my brain happily did not explode, although it was touch and go at times. In this electronic age, we had to submit it in two ways. First, online to a program which checks for plagiarism. This was a dramatic process with various dire warnings appearing at stages but I finally was issued with an e-receipt. The second submission was to drop a paper copy into an oversized post-box, which left me with a real sense of anti-climax. However, a few days later a Hogworts owl had delivered a paper receipt into my owl-hole, sorry – pigeon hole.

Finally, I have entered real student life and went out drinking with the gang after a late lecture which finished at 6pm. Actually, we went to Wetherspoons for curry night and several of us left at 9.30.

Neil Messerschmidt Mortiboys (don't ask)

Neil Messerschmidt Mortiboys (don't ask)

Neil and Father Josh, however, upheld good student tradition and finally collapsed, tired and emotional, into bed at 4.30. Again, 21st century technology helps us and the photographs that appeared the next day on Facebook told an interesting if somewhat disturbing story.

Over the weekend I was congratulating myself and feeling I was in control of my life again. By Monday I was cruelly disabused of that illusion when I realised I had to submit a fully referenced bibliography the following day for an essay for which I had not even chosen a title.

I’m now back to rapid cycling between happiness, panic, optimism, despair, bewilderment, confidence, exhaustion, denial and deep satisfaction. It’s sort of bipolar disease on speed. Apparently that’s normal student life for those who aren’t normally stoned/drunk/hung-over and can’t feel pain anyway!

Father Josh (note book on Catholic priesthood and Bible)

Father Josh (note book on Catholic priesthood and Bible)

Oh, and ‘hollol wallgo’? It’s my Welsh phrase of the week. It means ‘completely bonkers’. It’s the phrase that most readily comes to mind when I think of Gary Gareth, Father Josh and Neil. Fortunately, the other three members of the gang of seven (Jo, Jen and Rhonwen) maintain nature’s balance of sanity. I make no statement where I am.

Rebecca Riots, Friends and University Bureaucracy

October 16th, 2009

The Rebecca Riots

The Rebecca Riots

It’s still proving to be a new and novel experience to be a full-time University student at the age of 61. However, it’s been quite different from my expectations. It’s been much harder work than I expected – well I have been coasting lazily for almost two years other than working on the house and my hobbies. The amount of reading we have to do is quite terrifying. Then there are essays to plan for, seminars to prepare for and deadlines to cut one’s wrists for.

The best part is the friends I have made already. Somehow, eight of us have teamed up as an unusual group of good friends. All but one of us live outside Bangor in the area between Holyhead, Penygroes and Mold and one in Halls in the Catholic chaplaincy. At the risk of ruining everything we’ve built so far, here’s a little about each of them. Josh – the one in the chaplaincy – explains that he’s there primarily because the priest gives out free beer and sandwiches at the social evenings. His biggest concern is if he can recall the words of a ‘Hail Mary’ if called upon. He is one of the four ‘economy-size’ blokes in our group (yes, I’m another one). We’re all the right weight, just several inches shorter than we should be. Neil, who has the amazing middle name Messerschmitt on Facebook, is a computer whizz who keeps us all in stitches. Then there’s Gareth. What can I say about Gareth that won’t involve me in a libel suit? Well, he cheats at Scrabble – you wouldn’t believe the words he uses. If you ever feel you need an opinion on anything, well Gareth will have one! ‘Larger than life’ is somehow a pale and inadequate description. Completing the male contingent, the fourth man is not Anthony Blunt but Joe. The quietest of all of us, he has passionate political views and often just smiles as the rest of us put the world to rights with passion.

Three women complete our group. Lesley, who is a near neighbour of mine, shares my problems of holding two lives in tension. Hers is a busy farm life and she’s questioning whether she can do both farm and university. We’re all trying to encourage her as none of us want to see her leave. I’m trying not to let the fact I get the odd lift home from Lesley affect my judgement! Rhonwen is a first-language Welsh speaker and helps me with my Welsh module – actually, not that much yet, but I’ll be calling on her more. She and Jen, the final member of the group have been a real surprise to me. They both look like whatever the female equivalent to ‘mild-mannered Clark Kent’ but the reality is very different. A hundred years ago they would have been up there with Emily Pankhurst and the Suffragettes fighting. Jen was the first to draft a stinging letter of complaint to the Estates Department, followed by Rhonwen, concerning the completely useless so called ‘parking arrangements’ for students. I was only sorry that we don’t have the facility to do Harry Potter type ‘howlers’, which is really what was called for. They are two feisty ladies!

I’ve been so impressed by the kindness shown to one another in the group (sometimes heavily disguised in the case of some of the lads) as each of us has had the pressures of ordinary life and university life together. In fact, I hit the wall on Wednesday and went down with a bug half way through the day and went to bed with a 38.4deg temperature after throwing up. One the third day I rose again (not the most famous resurrection in history, I know) but all the gang showed concern and sent supportive emails, Rhonwen offering to take notes for me.

That was in marked contrast to my university lecturers who chose to ignore my emails of apology that I would be unable to attend their lecture. We were told to do this with dire consequences if we failed to show for a lecture without having sent apologies. I sent four emails (four lectures and seminars that day) and not one had an acknowledgement. Would it have hurt them to hit the ‘reply’ button and typed ‘Thanks for letting me know’? Just forget, ‘I hope you are better soon’. All I got was a threat from one lecturer who said I failed to show up at her seminar and would get a yellow card next time. So much for Bangor University’s supporting culture.

So, Rebecca Riots? Well, that’s my essay due two weeks today. I can hear ‘Rebecca, Scotch Cattle and the Chartist Movement’ calling me, ‘Amser gweithio prifysgol’. Blogging is far more fun.

Breaking through the pain barrier

October 9th, 2009

I hit a low point earlier this week and was drowning in a sea of seminars, lectures, workshops bibliographies, timetables, lack of parking spaces and general state of being dazed and bewildered. I even made a plea for reassurance on my Facebook status that I’ll get to grips with these things some time before I graduate. Immediately a number of friends came back with that reassurance. Here’s a couple of quotes:

Rob Merchant said,  You’ll be fine. It takes students the first 3-4 weeks to get into the swing of things. By Christmas you’ll feel like an old hand, and by your second year you’ll be wondering what all the fuss was about.

Jane Templeman said, I remember that feeling. I just kept thinking that if they left me alone for just a while I could actually finish a task but instead all these things appeared on my timetable!

It seems to me to be part of a strategy for helping youngsters into university life in the first year. For most, if they do not have something organised then they do not do anything, so the answer is schedule loads of stuff, knowing they will cut stuff and not read everything: a shot gun approach. However the older students are far more committed, want to learn as much as possible and so expect themselves to do everything thoroughly, making overload a real danger.

I think the skill is not to take it all too seriously. Missing the odd thing is not fatal at this stage, you can always borrow notes. However tiredness is the enemy to be guarded against because with it quickly comes unrealistic discouragement.

Wise words and really helpful to me. One of my anxieties was related to being an older mature student, living off campus and the possibility of not having any sense of being part of university life. The reality is happily very different. I’ve become part of a group, most of whom are mature students living off-campus like me, but all in their 20s. Next week four of us are getting together to plan our first major essay.

I suppose I’ve only done two weeks in my degree so feeling better this weekend is definitely progress!


One week down the road

October 2nd, 2009

exhaustedSo I’ve completed my first week of lectures: four one-hour lectures and a two-hour Welsh language class. That class took place on Wednesday moring despite my timetable saying Wednesday afternoon. I got an email Monday night to tell me of the change which clashed with seminars of course! To my surprise, the magic computer sorted the clash quickly and I’m in a Welsh class of three students – great way to learn a language but nowhere to hide!

Two of the four lectures were in a room that was too small (six students had no seats), with a non-working projector. I trust this chaos is purely timetable teething problems but we will see next week when seminars start. It was an exhausting week!

It’s going to be hard getting in to the practice of note-taking and I’m terrified about finding and reading the interminable list of books. One module asked for 11 hours lectures, 11 semininars/workshops and 175 hours of reading. Multiply that by four, add the Welsh lesson homework and I obviously have to give up sleeping. So how do students find all this drinking time I keep hearing about?

I do want to join some social activities but as I always have to drive, my options are restricted due to most society activity involving alcohol. The Welsh Learners’ Society was a big disappointment as they are all complete beginners. I was hoping to fnd people at a similar, or more advanced level, for conversational practice.

I do plan to talk about what I’m actually learning in my blogs but this week at Bangor has been largely administration. My abiding memory will be the warnings about the dire consequences of plagiarism and the ability of the University to spot it at 50 paces. All essays must be submitted electronically and they are crunched through software called MaeBrawrMawrSpioChi.com (BigBrotherIsWatchingYou.com).

Dolbardarn Castle

Dolbardarn Castle

However, the ‘Images of Wales’ module was great. One example was how Wales was seen up to about the 16th century as wild and untamed, so too its people were similarly portrayed as savages. Through contemporary art the lecturer showed how that image softened and matured. When Turner painted Dolbardarn Castle, Llanberis in 1802, the image was very dramatic. It’s a bit gentler now. The spot from which Turner painted his masterpiece is now a car-park and the background is now the terraces of Dinorwig quarry. Looking forward to next weeks’ Images of Wales lecture.