Spookily, the BBC have done a big feature on 'community' a day or so after Sanna raised the issue on her blog and prompted much discussion. Off the back of this Lucy notes that she's now from the North. But I want to expression confusion at the central premise behind all this, as summarised by the BBC's Mark Easton:

In particular, the study focuses on the concept of "anomie", a measure of people's sense of - or lack of - belonging to where they live.

So?

Perhaps we're forgetting that 'belonging' to a geographical location is just as imagined a community as any other. Perhaps it would be possible, theoretically, to actually know and interact with everyone on your street or in your small village. But there's no way this can be plausibly extended to even fairly small regions: I may feel I 'belong' to Willesden, Brent or London, but it's just that: a feeling within me. And whilst it's probably obvious to most people that we need to feel we 'belong' to some sort of community - or communities - why does it need to be geographic?

In fact, I would argue that to place the focus on geography is profoundly limiting. Not only does it creates needless tension against immigration but - ultimately - isn't it lonelier to be restricted to a far smaller pool of people in which to find others who share interests, outlooks and activities? Transport, urbanisation and communication - especially online - provide the tools to overcome the harsh limits of geography whilst providing for all-important real world interaction. Does this mean that people and families are less committed to their immediate neighbourhoods leading to a suffering in community life, as Easton suggests? Well only if you equate 'immediate neighbourhoods' with 'community life' it does. But if the evidence is that immediate neighbourhoods are less important to people than previously then why is this such a problem?

(Incidentally, if you're looking for causes as to why this is supposedly* happening, may I draw you away from the wild conspiracies floating around and - for once - suggest that class is actually a pretty relevant factor. Research suggests that the middle class tends to maintain a more diverse range of close contacts from different areas of life - school, university, work, random-guy-I-met-online and so on - and it's hardly news to suggest that recent decades have seen a big expansion of the middle class.)

*I say 'supposedly' because you could probably have written this story at any point over the past couple of centuries.

Well, it mildly disturbed me anyway.










Credit: Lucy for suggesting that it should be photographed.

(It's not a title that actually relates to this post, but as I was hunting around for music to listen to I was drawn to fond memories of this and thus Liquid News. Ah, Liquid! If you hadn't gone I wouldn't have to get my daily 'stuff people care about' briefing from Digital Spy...)

As Lucy leaves from visiting (finally made it to the Waffle House!) and I turn to the final week of term there's a familiar end-of-term weariness, so it's probably a helpful boost to my work ethic that my final essay is on religion in America. One of the available questions is simply "Why is the United States so religious?" which I read as ending with an implied "!?!" for good measure. But it saddens me that after this essay I will be returning home for a life of coursework rather than recuperation! Ooh, and Book Club too. (I need to get a move on with that actually. Either that or I lie about when I'm back in London and hide for a week...)

Sophie and I have been watching Pride and Privilege: a documentary about life at exclusive (and rather expensive) Glenalmond College in Scotland. It's the kind of show which I'd occasionally watch at home, if others were around to poke fun at whatever eccentric cast of characters the producers had persuaded to appear, but it's given a highly entertaining edge by the fact that Sophie is actually one of Glenalmond's distinguished alumni and thus can provide all the extra inside gossip ("oh my god, they went and found the stupidest girl in the school..."). It did make me think about what would have happened if I'd went to boarding school - I just don't think I could have endured someone coming in and turning off the light to make me go to bed at night. All of my crazy 2am creations lost! Still, I wish I had a show about Queens Park to provide in return

Last Wednesday night, when I should have been planning an essay on 60s 'rebellion', I instead finally managed to get to one of Andrew's Peterhouse Politics events and saw Christopher Meyer - former British Ambassador to the US - speak on Barack Obama. Luckily, everything he said now has a warm afterglow now that the election is over, but it was still interesting to hear about his friendship with John McCain. It all confirmed what I thought really: nice guy, detested Bush but with a tendency to lose his cool under pressure big time and fly into rages. (And consequently do stupid things and, say, appoint stupid people to be his VP. Thought I might as well get this in before Sanna blogs ) And I'm suddenly struck by amusement at the idea that this is my equivalent of Abbi's gig reports!

Before I leave you with another instalment of unique wit and wisdom - you know you love them - the idea of having 'features' over multiple blogs reminds me somewhat of The Self Twist. The what? The newsletter thingy I made from 2000 to 2002. OK, so it had a circulation roughly equivalent to that of the Daily Express - four - and that consisted purely of everyone else in the house. (Ah, the joys of word processing as entertainment before the days of broadband Internet connections...) But it was also fun, with youthful forays into 'writing for an audience', 'meeting deadlines' and 'marketing'. And bits of it can even be unexpectedly reflective now:



~


Part 3: On Peer Pressure
Our hero has gone to London and fallen in with Mark Watson: a 'crafty, cunning young man'. Under his influence they make life difficult for the good and pious Harry. "...one sultry day in July, when we had taken a long walk, and were tired and hot, Mark proposed, for the first time before Harry, that we should turn into a public-house to refresh ourselves. I gave a sort of wink towards Harry, as much as to say, "What will he think?" Watson understood me.

"Of course we needn't ask you to come," he said, as Harry hesitated; "you're too great a saint for that; far above the vain pleasures of us poor mortals."

"I'm not a saint," said Harry bluntly.

"Well," said Mark, changing his tack, "perhaps I was wrong, but you may have other reasons - your mother won't let you, eh?"

"I can do as I like," said Harry again.

"Dear me, then I'm very pleased," said Watson, with a bow; "walk in then, I'm glad to be favoured with your company, I'm sure."

[drumroll?]

And Harry did walk in."

It technically launched two weeks ago, but there's still more than enough time to tell you about... Reindeer Post! Yes, over the holiday I've been working on this joint business venture: my role, unsurprisingly, was to build the website. The idea is very simple - personalised letters from Father Christmas for children (or even ironic adults ). Simply head over to the site, fill out our order form and (for a low low price) the intended recipient will receive a customised letter from Santa addressed to them in the post. And let's face it, getting letters is pretty cool these days even when it's just a bank statement... how amazing to get one from the North Pole? (Or Lapland, he said hastily.)

A word about the website itself: yes, it's very simple and highly imperfect. I know this, honestly. But I am reminded of that erstwhile Microsoft saying - "shipping is a feature" - and particularly so for such a seasonally-dependent service. The important thing is that the site is up and running and works, which is does, so that we can all learn lessons for next year. So go on - if you know anyone who would just love a letter from Father Christmas, tell them about Reindeer Post. Ta

~


Part 2: On Bad Wives
Ladies! Please make sure you don't live like Jane Wallis, for she is "a great talker, and spent the time in which she ought to have been providing for her husband's comfort, in standing at the corner of the street gossiping with all the idle people who chanced to be passing. And then the money Dick earned went to pay for smart bonnets and gowns for her, for she was very fond of finery. Then when the bills came in, Dick complained and grumbled; but it was of no use. She answered him with such a storm of abusive words, and with such a burst of passion, as fairly drove him out of his home, and sent him to 'Red Lion.'".

Oh dear. I think we all know what happens next..."Well, one night it came to and end... We rushed to the front to see what was going on, and we saw there such a sight as I never saw before, and I trust I shall never see again. Poor Jane Wallis was lying on the ground apparently dead, her head bleeding dreadfully, and over her was standing Dick, with the poker in his hand, only half sobered by what he had done."

Hot on the heels of being taken out for dinner by my aunt Carolyn on Thursday night, the very next evening I was feeding (quite literally) off Lucy's generosity in Brighton. (Sentence framed this way to draw attention to the issue of card machine sexism!) Touring the Sussex campus, I was torn between loving the ability to walk around in a virtually car-free environment and never quite being able to escape the thought of The Village, which is common to all campuses. However, it was lovely to visit and see more of 'real' university life

The next day we went back to Brighton and visited a wonderful second-hand bookshop with plenty of old, old books. Naturally, I headed straight for the children's section and it was there that I made The Discovery: My Mates and I, by a Mrs. O.F. Walton and published by the Religious Tract Society. According to the British Library it was written in 1870 - although published later - and is by all accounts a terrible, terrible book... from the absurd title and woeful characterisations to the paper-thin plot which barely makes any effort to disguise its Jesus-leanings. I just had to buy it. And now, in what I anticipate will become an irregular feature, I would like to inaugurate the first in a new series: The Wit and Wisdom of My Mates and I.


Part 1: On The Temptation of a Noisy Game
Having received expert spiritual guidance at the house of old Mrs. Payne, the lads depart and soon find temptation... "just outside we met with a number of our companions, who were talking and laughing at the top of their voices, and who wanted us to join them in a noisy game. However, with Mrs. Payne's words ringing in our ears, Frank and I refused, and went quietly home; though I am sorry to say our two mates were over-persuaded, and left our company for theirs".