Finally reached the top of the library reservation list for 'Sharpe's Fury' and have been obsessively engrossed since. Went to Cambridge yesterday, got soaked to the skin within about five minutes of stepping off the Park & Ride and was seriously tempted to just sit in Nero's and chainsmoke my way through the novel instead. However, persevered through the torrential downpour and tried to see the parts I missed off last time. Bit pissed off that you had to pay to go into King's College Chapel though - can understand why my mum, stalwart C of E that she is, kicked up such a fuss when we went to Canterbury Cathedral and got us all in for free (although was mortified at the time). I liked St. Benet's Church best; mostly, I think, for its wonderful atmosphere as much as the Saxon features.

On the whole, I don't like Cambridge much. I find the town centre slightly stilted and in danger of being fossilised. One of the things I like so much about Norwich is how it blends the medieval with the modern so sympathetically and manages to create public buildings that are both functional and architecturally meritorious. Although, having said that, I think I could probably live in Cambridge for a lifetime and not run out of subjects for my sketchbook.

Finally heard back from the history prof at Bangor University. I sent out an email about a week ago to try to schedule a meeting to discuss my postgraduate application and was starting to worry that either a) it had got lost in cyberspace / a bulging in-tray or b) I could be dealing with yet another accademic who had managed to circumnavigate the email revolution. I remember one of my undergraduate tutors communicated solely through the medium of scrap paper shoved unceromiously into pigeon holes. I do not exaggerate when I claim that none of us could read his handwriting - although after three years Holly got pretty close and we all came to rely on her to act as ad-hoc translator. Anyway, returning to the point, I got an email back from his colleague today informing me that he was off sick at present but hoped to return in the new year and to try again then. I suppose there's no rush since I have until May to submit my funding application but I would like to get an offer in the bag - or at least a rejection so that I can revert to plan b in good time (or c, or even d!).

Also got a strange email from Uther. My own fault really since, in my eagerness to secure a Gmail invite I was willing even to make contact with the ex. Obviously I'm pleased that he's enjoying LSE and getting good feedback from his tutors but why the dickens did he feel the need to send me documentary evidence in the form of an 3,000 word essay on the Spanish empire? God alone knows what he would make of a recipricatory analysis of pre-Consuest native law in Wales... Maybe he wants to dazzle me into mournful regret for finishing with such a powerhouse of intellect - pah!

Can't seem to settle on fic writing at the moment. I started a mini-fic on Sunday with an idea that had been in my head for a while. It was one of those episodes that just seemed to write itself and I got about 1,500 words down before getting unexpectedly stuck again. Darn.

Reading: 'Devices & Desires' by P. D. James (fantastic, fantastic writer)

Messing about on the computer whilst waiting for my new palm top gizmo to congifure, I was disturbed to see my Amazon wish list come up upon Googling myself - is it just me or does that seem a bit, well, like a heinous breach of confidentiality (besides making me look like a violent war-mongering wierdo, for the most part)?

Today's Daily Mirror has a news item on Harry and Cho's first kiss in the OOTP movie (click on image to view actual size):



Finally got the new Keane album yesterday and it's fantastic. I'd been waiting for the follow-up to 'Hope and Fears' for ages, but when it came out I kept making excuses not to buy it (in the same way that I counted down the days until OOTP was released and then didn't read it until someone brought me a copy a month later, and in the same way that I still haven't read the new Sharpe novel). You know, I've often said before that there's no one quite so pessimistic as an optimist - you work yourself up to such a frenzy of anticipation that nothing ever lives up to your expectations!

Had a great work leaving do on Thursday at a Japanese restaurant - almost enough to make me feel nostalgic (well it's not every day a girl gets her name spelt out in onion). The chaps really came up trumps on the present buying front, too, with a gorgeous necklace and earrings combo, plus a bottle of Vodka and a 'Make Your Own Fairy' kit, for which 'the only gay in the office' is now taking orders from every other middle-aged heterosexual (ostensibly on behalf of pre-teen daughters, but who am I to judge what bean counters get up to in their spare time?). Then on to Optic where I was treated to Kevin's frenzied wedding dancing before getting a lift all the way back to the-village-no-one-has-ever-heard-of from Graeme. I suppose it must have been a good night because when I came down in the morning I saw that I had left the front door wide open so thank god that my sister does live in the middle of nowhere...



Still, phase 2 of the 'Exit Norwich' strategy is now complete; I've left my flat, my job and all that's left now is to physically leave the place on a train. And yet I was reminded today why I like East Anglia so much; walking the dogs along the sand dunes at Great Yarmouth I realised that there are few moments in life more satsifying than having a cigarette as you face out into the North Sea in a buffeting wind (well, apart from facing out into the Irish Sea, obviously ;-) ).

I watched the much-hyped The State Within on Thursday - primarily because the brother-in-law was keen but also with a view to indulging in a spot of gratuitous Harry Potter spotting.

Now don't get me wrong, I think Jason Isaacs plays a convincing enough Lucius Malfoy but it's not a role that makes me want to rush out and order his entire back catalogue from Amazon - particularly after sitting through the tedious Peter Pan. So I was pleasantly surprised to find myself rooted to the chair for an hour (reminded yet again that it's always a mistake to have a cup of tea before a BBC production); it's clever, slick and well cast. Okay, so we don't need a dramatic camera whoosh to denote every scene change and they could dispense with the coloured lenses while they're at it but on the whole I thought it showed a lot of potential and it was a nice change to see something unashamedly serious on television for once.

Impressed by Mr. Isaacs, I looked him up on the Internet Movie Database where I came across this little gem of a quote on his Harry Potter casting:

I went off and read the books after the audition and I read all four books in one sitting - you know - didn't wash, didn't eat, drove around with them on the steering wheel like a lunatic. I suddenly understood why my friends, who I'd thought were slightly backward, had been so addicted to these children's books. They're like crack.

Dunderheads and Know-it-all’s: An Essay on the Treatment of Accademic Ability in Harry Potter

It is one of the more frustrating aspects of the Harry Potter series that our protagonist fails to exhibit the sort of natural flair for magic expected from the saviour of the wizarding world. We shout at the page in impotent disbelief as Harry procrastinates to the point of catastrophe throughout the Tri-Wizard tournament, struggling to master even a simple summoning charm under the tutelage of his infinitely more talented friend. Indeed, one could be forgiven for agreeing with Snape’s assessment of Harry Potter - an average boy of no exceptional talent - if not for the incongruous fact that he has repeatedly foiled the darkest wizard of his age. It is through his trysts with Voldemort that Harry at last begins to conform to the heroic ideal, utilising Gryffindor courage and perseverance to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles. This disparity highlights the curious ambiguity with which accademic ability is treated in the series.

As a non-selective accademic institution, Hogwarts must pitch itself at the largest proportion of the student body by catering primarily for students of average ability. This category of student is awarded little visibility in the series – suffice to say that the accademic performance of Lavender Brown or Susan Bones is never referenced. Instead, the vast majority of attention is focused on those students who fall outside of the mainstream. Usefully, Snape provides a terminology for these anomalous students, viz the ‘dunderheads’ and the ‘know-it-all's’. The ‘dunderheads’ comprise those students who fall short of the ideal, lacking either in aptitude or confidence; Marcus Flint, Crabbe, Goyle, Neville Longbottom, and possibly the hapless Hannah Abbott. This group contrasts with the ‘know-it-all's’ who exhibit a superfluity of both which they are not shy of advertising; Hermione, Percy and Ernie Macmillan all perpetuate the maxim that a low emotional I.Q. is the corollary to high intelligence. The first rule of law, then, is that social awkwardness is an inevitable consequence of accademic deviance.

It is significant that Snape is awarded the power to differentiate students into these categories, as he provides an illuminating case study of the consequences of such accademic prejudice. Clearly, a man capable of holding two professorships in unrelated subjects is no one’s fool, and we can take other inferences from the text that Snape was an unusually gifted student: Professor Slughorn still uses Snape as the benchmark for an exceptional Draught of Living Death nearly two decades later; Snape was creating his own spells and correcting N.E.W.T. level textbooks whilst still at school; in his Defence Against the Dark Art O.W.L. Snape wrote ‘at least a foot more than his closest neighbours, and yet his writing was minuscule and cramped’ and was studious enough to remain immersed in his question booklet even after the exam had finished. As a result, Snape was ridiculed for his conscientiousness and shunned by his peers:

‘I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,’ said Sirius viciously. ‘There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.’

Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular.

As a result of his adolescent experiences, Snape became intellectually introverted, shrouding the true extent of his abilities. There is not a hint of his brilliance at Potions in the cold and uninspiring classroom manner. Learning the hard way that he could not rely on the plaudits of others for his sense of worth, Snape cannot stomach the sort of self-promotion he observes in Hermione. The prejudice which Snape encountered at Hogwarts may go some way to explaining how an highly intelligent wizard became attracted to a violent brotherhood which would initially appear to hold more appeal to a knuckle-dragging dunderhead.

In some ways, it should come as no surprise that the highly intelligent might become disaffected in a value system that seems to value physical vigour above the intellectual - Snape certainly seems to have felt this keenly when he sneers that ‘a small amount of talent’ on the Quidditch field entitled James Potter to strut around Hogwarts. Sirius believed that this enmity sprang from jealousy:

‘I think James was everything Snape wanted to be – he was popular, he was good at Quidditch – good at pretty much everything. And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts.’

But this is just as well for our hero, as the one area in which Harry does excel at Hogwarts is on the Quidditch pitch, with his first flying lesson providing one of the few examples of intuitive skill. Harry’s other notable talent lies in his aptitude for Defence Against the Dark Arts, a fairly physical discipline which is complimented by his athletic reflexes – reflexes which save him from one of Voldemort’s curses in the graveyard scene after his rebirth. These physical skills have stood Harry in good stead in previous encounters: flying after enchanted keys in his first year and defeating Voldemort literally with his bare hands; battling a basilisk with Gryffindor’s sword; dodging curses from Voldemort in the Riddle graveyard; and duelling with his followers both in the Ministry of Magic and at Hogwarts on the night of the Death Eater security breach. For all his mediocrity in a dusty classroom, Harry is able to apply his knowledge to real-life situations. In contrast, despite her superior intellect, it is Hermione who cowers from a mountain troll, Hermione who is knocked unconscious during the Ministry of Magic duel and Hermione who falls for Snape’s trickery on the night of Dumbledore’s death. So not only will those heavy N.E.W.T. textbooks wreak havoc with your posture and social life, they may just mark you as Voldemort’s next victim.

‘Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery’ – ironically, this is one of the most important lessons which students take from their education at Hogwarts.

So I decided to return to a WIP after three months neglect. It's always a rather bittersweet enterprise, that; wonderful to re-immerse oneself in favourite plots and characters but dreadful to read the clunky prose and screaming OOC moments that were concealed beneath the blur of familiarity. So rather than produce the promised update, I decided to first go back and edit the previous seven chapters of Dark Sarcasm in the Classroom, adding a bit more depth to the GW/HG interplay.

I suppose my problem is that when I begin writing I only have a vague idea of how I am going to progress the plot; carefully planted subplots don't always come to fruition and need the occasional weeding! In light of JK's impressive collection of back stories and plot grids I feel somewhat abashed, but really - and I'm sure many writers would back me up - characters often exhibit a complete mind of their own when it comes to trying to shoehorn them into their destiny. For instance, I read in the foreword to Sharpe's Regiment that Bernard Cornwell had never intended to make Jane Sharpe bad (i.e. an adulterous little so-and-so) but that she had quite plainly had other ideas...

Reading: The Plague - Albert Camus (my only comment thus far would be: don't bother)