horrified to find self channelling Bob Geldorf. Geldof. Whatever.

[freckles_and_doubt]

I love the bit where I tell a room full of anxious first-years that it's actually significantly difficult to get thrown out of the faculty, they're fine if they pass three courses in their first year. The sharp intake of breath. The helpless, relieved grins. The relaxation of the shoulders as hope dawns. Until this point most of them are petrified that they'll be flung out into the snow if they fail one. Sometimes I really enjoy my job.

Back to lecturing today, which also possibly explains my unusually buoyant mood, to the extent of wandering down the corridor singing "Tell me why! I don't like Mondays..." happily to myself. (Bob Geldorf notwithstanding. Lord, that's an irritating little man). Holding forth for forty-five minutes on the essential unreality of sex in representation seems to calm my inner kvetch quite nicely, thank you, which is fortunate as the Monday shock after a three-day weekend is usually quite nasty. Also, bonus, made a point of using both "resonate" and "evoke" at least once during the lecture. Just for you, stvil. Plus mandatory references to Buffy, Anne Rice diss, and revelation of the existence of Weasleycest to stunned and disbelieving Humanities third-years.

I miss teaching. Memo to self, trade in career, it is skraaatched.

Comments

Weaving into a presentation...

[veratiny.livejournal.com]

There is a local vacuum cleaner shop called Godfrey’s. Outside every Godfrey’s state-wide is a clown attached to a pump of some sort that causes him to inflate and wave his arms about. I find them deeply disturbing...late last year I discovered that due to my frustrated out burst while studying my family had been calling me Godfrey behind my back for years.

That morphed into a description of the characteristic of arts students to leave something to the last minute, panic and throw something together being referred to amongst my circle as "having a Godfrey".

I have since made it my mission to work it into every presentation I make to potential grants applicants. I even have an animated power point slide: The downfall of Godfrey. I'm serious about working my personal jokes into the malleable minds of the young (or not so young in the case of some grant applicants).

*evil*

Re: Weaving into a presentation...

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Inflated wavy things are deeply disturbing. We passed some in a kids' playground over the weekend - giant stick men made from 10m-high plastic tubes with air blowing through them so they lash around. Like the arches in the Sheri Tepper True Game novel. Weird and worrying.

I also think it's mean of your family to call you things behind your back, incidentally. Bastards.

Re: Weaving into a presentation...

[khoi-boi.livejournal.com]

My niece had one of those things at her birthday party recently. khoi_brat was disturbingly taken with it, actually.

Re: Weaving into a presentation...

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Face it, children are disturbing.

Bob G

[egadfly.livejournal.com]

Interesting, in a sad and pedantic sort of way...

A few years ago someone noticed the name "Bob Geldorf" in my music collection and had a giggle. I had to look him up to learn, to my surprise, that he's actually an r-free Geldof.

I'd always assumed that was my own little error. But unless it's coincidence, I'm now left with the intruiging options (a) it's a typical southern African mistake for some reason or (b) I caught it from you and never thought to question it, on the basis that if someone of your impeccable abilities spelled his name that way, it must be so.

If (b) - where does it end? At least reassure me that the thing you said about Father Christmas and the tooth fairy is still true!

Re: Bob G

[extemporanea.livejournal.com]

Good lord, you're right, how weird. I have cheerfully dissed the man in the incorrect spelling for most of my life. Although I don't recollect ever actually spelling him at you for any reason, so I don't think you can blame me for your own misapprehension. It's clearly a local cloud of confusion.

Although not so local, if you fiddle Google to make it return the wrong spelling only, it pulls in 22 000 hits, quite a lot of them about the musician.

I have now looked at the word "Bob" for so long that it has lost all meaning. Not that it ever had much.