It's starting to make sense to me now. For the professional academic a conference like this one is like rugby tour was for me. It's lots of fun rolled into one condensed package - with alcohol. I do though pride myself that they're not drinking nearly as much as we did at our peak. I find myself on the periphery looking in on this phenomenon. I beg off the post lecture socialising because I have no durable point of contact with the others. I love Shakespeare but not to the consuming degree that afflicts these scholars. And beyond the Bard I cannot empathise with their concerns about jobs, publications and the underclass (that's me folks) they perceive to have voted for Brexit. Don't get me wrong, I like them and admire their dedication, but inevitably I am not of them.
Today was a slog. I was feeling mentally sluggish and there's only so much stale coffee you can chug to keep you going. Still, I didn't fall asleep. One prince of the field was alongside me on the third row of the stalls for a student production of
Mucedorus when he nodded off. I wonder what the cast made of that and whether they knew who he was. Perhaps worse, another senior academic delivered his paper and then snoozed at the front while his fellow panellists followed on. At least he didn't snore.
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| Jonson and Shakespeare playing chess |
Les deux chapeaux were again in evidence - methinks they must have monstrous carbuncles atop their heads - as the Boy Shakespeare might have put it.
Andrew Hadfield of Sussex University - what a star.
One day to go. I haven't skipped a session. Must get through to the end.
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