Bardolatry And Booze

My previous and only encounter with the city of Swansea was a visit to the Land Registry office to discuss a particularly difficult first registration of a massive mountain estate acquired by a significent client. Much more detail would be improper but suffice to say that the title involved some alienated coal - that will excite my property lawyer readership. That meeting was in the height of summer and on a sweltering afternoon the Registry oficer and I spread the plans all over the floor of his office and walked our way round the represented estate while listening to the test match commentary on his transistor radio. I remember it with pleasure and as an example of how negotiation need not be abrasive.

Well here I am again, this time in my role as super-annuated Shakespeare scholar. A good conference thus far and I am, of course, in awe of the serious minded young people who are at the heart of the gathering. I envy them their optimism and their capacious memories. Mind you I am even more in awe of a new acquaintance, P, who has a couple of years on me and will tomorrow be presenting his paper on The Merchant of Venice. Big Fat Cowardy Custard Pig is here merely as a spectator, although my guilt has prompted me to ask questions at two of the panels I have thus far attended.

When I attended the British Shakespeare Association conference in Hull two years ago I ventured the opinion that this gathering is, for these committed academics, rather what rugby tour used to be for me - party hard! Last night I learned a new piece of jargon - ECA stands for Early Career Academics. P, C (another geriatric PhD candidate and an alumnus of Christ Church Oxford - there's posh) and I managed to wangle an invitation to the ECA drinks and pizza party at a local(ish - we got soaked walking back to the halls) pub. Worth the walk and hopefully some of the energy of these ECA's will rub off.

Off to see a new play at the university theatre tonight so just back in my room copping a bit of rest and catching a glimpse of the Open, where I see that utterly predictably Rory McIlroy has had a mare.