Circles

Many years ago in my undergraduate days at Saint David's University College Lampeter (a now defunct college of the University Of Wales) I suffered un der the tutelage of  a head of department who was an un reconstructed Marxist. Personally i think he had a social chip on his shoulder and was probably of confused sexual orientation a hostility that he expressed though a futile attachment to an anti -establishment dogma that became to totally define him. I took one of his courses which was first world war poetry and literature, and I struggled, I manged consistent 2.1 results in every course I took except this one, and it was actually a subject that interested me. My finale assessed essay I wrote in a fit of peak, it was brutal and blatant satire of everything that this particular lecturer stood for, I wrote a tirade that would have more befitted a script for " Citizen Smith" than and academic paper; every text on the course was a clear indication of how the effete homosexual public school officer class wilfully exploited the many working class heroes in the front line, Wilfred Owen, Sigfried Sassoon,  were all harbingers of Marxism, the paper was such an outrageous parody of the man  himself I full expected to be at worst sent down at best disciplined. I handed in the essay first thing to the departmental secretary ( a long suffering woman)  and went surfing.  I don't think I went near the department for about a week after that.  Everyday I chugged in my dilapidated Beetle up to Aberystwyth or down to Pembrokshire waiting for the inevitable.

I was awarded the highest mark I received for any piece of work in my entire university career for that essay.

On the basses of this I chose my undergraduate dissertation topic " Homoerotiocism in Victorian  Public School Literature" the stunt worked again.  As a result I passed my degree with a 2:1 and went on to Bristol to study an MA.

The real irony though is that I have subsequently lived the colonial life, I served in the Police force, farmed in Asia and worked for the oh so egalitarian oil industry in Africa. Perhaps if my head of department had been less of an intransigent bigot I might have served society and become a school teacher.... I am actually quite grateful, as I sit on my veranda here in West Africa and wait for the steward to serve morning coffee,  so in tribute to Wolfie, my old head of department and mildewed Marxists everywhere let us raise our glasses  ( cut crystal and Cabernet Sauvignon) and with a voice ... say " Power to the people".

Port Harcourt

It has been a while, partially due to technical issues and partially due life getting in the way. The techncal issues are completely beond my controle I suspect the life styel issue are becoming that way, though life would be dull if we could predict tomorrow.

Life in Port Harcourt continues at the same steady unpredictable pace interspersed by random and pointless acts of violence leading to unnecessaary sudden death. In this incident a woman was gunned down apprently for her bag full of phone recharge cards.

Another pointless death

Unulsally in this incident a member of he security sevices was killed, usually they are involved so prewarned or ( in my own experience) they ditch their uniforms and run away.

Also since my last posting I was on a drill rig that almost fell over, which again is pretty nuch par for the course, cost cutting and coruption no doubt were some where involved.

But then agin it sure beats working in an insurance offce from 9 to 5 and taking the tube every morning.