The Week in Winter

Winter has arrived. While this officially starts during the months of December, the recent snowfall (York pictured to the right, photo taken earlier today) had signalled a de facto initiation. Spare a thought to all the traders in stalls today participating in the St. Nicolas Fayre, whose stock was in places blanketed by snow and were constantly frozen themselves! Having volunteered at Holy Trinity Goodramgate Church on Friday morning I can empathise; stone floors eat through the thickest boots to make your feet cold, and unless you have gloves your hands are going to be frozen. That said, it looks nice outside for once, and I haven't had any major difficulties getting anywhere by foot.

This week has been fairly busy, with dissertation ideas being floated (I have a crazy idea about social dynamics that I want to expand on, but I'm awaiting a literature review on that one, so watch this space) work hours increasing, and module work to be done. In addition, my Post Hole article (see SoT passim) has triggered a welcome response from a certain Mr. Roberts in the latest issue of the Department's student-run electronic journal, and can be viewed here. I found his paper to be an interesting constructive critique, but not serious enough to warrant a head-on riposte. In my future planned articles I may have to address certain points, however.

Astute readers will have also noticed the creation of a standalone page, accessable via the link to the right. This is a home for my most representative essays, and currently houses one on postprocessualism and fieldwork. I may have to abridge it, however, since no one wants to read something 3000 words long recreationally!

Following complaints about the lack of a Sunday Song in last week's special blogpost, I am now proud to present this week's edition: Joy Division's Disorder.



Following the acquisition of a set of speakers, my musical sensibilities this week have been turned towards good stereo songs. Top of the experiment list has been Joy Division's (1979) debut album opener, Disorder, which was produced by Martin Hannett. Interviews by former band members later on revealed that the spacious, echoing sound that characterises Unknown Pleasures-era Joy Division was inspired by Hannett's own state-of-the-art soundsystem -thus leading him to tailor music to that rather than to the standard LP players that everyone had at the time.

I like Disorder because of its strange, empty soundscape -in many ways it puts me in mind of 70's academic books about computing or geometry. I can't listen to such dehumanised music for long, though, and it's very easy to over-listen to Joy Division, but this song, along with its lyrics vocalised by a heavily sedated-sounding Ian Curtis, is perhaps one of the most coherent, streamlined and listenable songs that band ever did.

Note: next week's SoT blogpost will be a -very exciting!- Sunday Song special.

Strata of Thought: king-sized edition!

This week the media has been focusing on the UK's Royal Family. On Tuesday Prince William announced his engagement to Kate Middleton, and on Friday Charles hinted Camilla might become 'Queen' should he ever become king himself. The TV and the Internet have united together to discuss every aspect of Kate Middleton, including her lineage, character and fashion sense, or simply to say that they just don't care (Americans being the current leaders of this).

I would imagine that irritation and hostility is not just confined to myself. Alongside the worry that the wedding will be paid out of the public pocket, or that Charles & Camilla won't make the best state figureheads for the country, sits the age-old and forever feeble question: 'why do we need a monarchy anyway?'

Republicanism has never been a very strong movement in Britain. A MORI poll conducted in 2006 showed that 72% of 1006 people still favoured monarchy, and 85% were satisfied with the current queen. However, solid support to me seems vague; in 2000 ICM revealed 46% of 1094 16-24 year-olds thought the monarchy was necessary, compared to 43% who argued contrary, and in 2007 a Populus poll showed 53% of 1004 people thought the Royal Family were not 'out of touch', compared to 43% who thought so.

So most people want the Royal Family, but evidently aren't happy with them. So what's the benefit of keeping them?

1. Value For Money

Let's jump straight into the practical considerations: value for money. According to pro-royal think-tank Sovereignty, the cost of the Royal Family to the taxpayer is £37 million per annum, which is far below the revenue they produce. Legally the Crown Estate must give all surpluses to the taxpayer, and all other forms of income are taxable in the firstplace. According to BBC News, the 2010 surplus was £210.7 million. Sounds good, right?

Wrong. Firstly, Sovereignty purports that current Royal residences would be maintained even in a republic, and that non-occupied residences, such as Hampton Court, are maintained already through visitor money. So surely without the cumbersome Royal Family the former could support themselves? Secondly, the site suggests that in a republic the 3000 events the Royals attend and pay for themselves would be paid for by the taxpayer, although in this scenario the Royals would not exist. Their successors, the presidents (perhaps) -even considering protected former presidents- would not in total number the same as the current Family. Nor after a certain period of time would they be need to be protected at all, or even need to be funded. Thirdly, one presumes the Queen's private money is not raised through working, or working as everybody else defines the term. This is money derived through various property given/taken by the Crown from others. Fourthly, Sovereignty ignores the fact that the Crown Revenue surplus is the sum profit of all the Sovereign's revenue, including the visitor-run properties they were so quick to exclude, and the Crown Jewels, et cetera. So, would this be produced even without the Royal Family?

2. Tourism

According to a survey by VisitBritain.com, the Queen is 3rd on a list of top 10 international visitor attractions, presumably because of the glamour of the wealth surrounding the family, its celebrity nature, and the fairy-tale veneer of royalty that our republican neighbours did away with centuries ago, and subsequently don't have. They apparently become so central to tourism that occasionally appear on tours specifically designed to promote it. And next year's Jubilee year, so Britain has a lot of business to look forward to, to boot.

This argument has the immediate effect of devaluing the integrity of the Royal Family. As rich, controversial and historic magnets of interest they have no intrinsic importance. Their title is the importance; you could potentially label anyone 'sovereign' and they would automatically do the same 'job' just as 'effectively'. The obvious counter to this is that they couldn't -the Royal Family owes its legitimacy to its geneaology. But is this the only form of legitimacy? Of course not! Whose to say that this role -if it is needed and couldn't be performed in an abstract sense by the People, the State, or the Nation- couldn't be granted to a truly, organically popular person? This person would be, I suppose, 'preside' over the national image, but I'm sure no such precedent has been set by any other republican country. Right? As for the tourist board, I'm sure the old houses will be just as popular, more accessible, and more profitable under new management (look what happened to the Louvre, after all). No tourist ever gets to see the Royal Family in any case, so it's hard to imagine their absence causing much distress.

3. Our Heritage

My argument directly above anticipates the age-old notion that the Royal Family is part of our Great British Heritage. It has been singled out as a reason for others to visit Britain, is fully integrated into our past through geneaology and the built environment, and represents the country in one single, united face. Sure, it's not perfect, some members aren't as dignified as others, but on the whole the Queen is "known for her resilience and “stiff upper lip”", as england.mu puts it, "a kind of quiet toughness which captures the British personality and spirit". An inseperable part of our history!

Not that I'm condoning violence, but royal families have proved perfectly seperable to many countries, such as France, America, Russia and Germany. And although these countries didn't all have smooth histories from that point onwards, what country has? These histories were instead determined by people, to a degree determined by the the level of democracy. And who in the world has a finer pre-existing democratic tradition than the UK? More importantly, Britain can be viewed in all kinds of ways, is made up of all kinds of people, and is characterised by all manner of supposed national traits (many of which are contradictory). One person cannot embody them all, or claim to represent them all.

4. Unity/Stability

Which brings me to the final claim: unity and stability. While I have already demonstrated that the Queen cannot possibly unify the nation in representing them, monarchists claim that the Royal Family is a constitional institution capable of rising above petty party politics and acting as a safety measure against it by being techically higher in stature than the Prime Minister.

Which ignores the fact that kings have caused wars. Surely no one believes that the English Civil Wars of the 17th century had nothing to do with Charles' long history of extorting of the taxpayers? And wasn't Edward VIII considered a potential threat even after his abdication because of his extreme right-wing sympathies immediately before and during the civil war? It is impossible for monarchs to be fully objective and rise against party politics - haven't the social sciences over the last 40 years spent most of the time trying to demonstrate that nobody can be truly objective? Where was objectivity and tactful reserve when Italy became fascist? Victor Emmanuel III personally selected Mussolini to serve as Prime Minister after all, and look how that turned out. Both the German and Spanish ruling houses merely fled in times of national disaster -what makes the British one different?

But all things aside, no, they're worth it.

-Edited at 23:30.

A Bundle of Things

Pre-emptive: yes, I've changed the logo and colour-scheme for this blog. Let me know how you feel about it! Personally I think it's a change for the better.

Anyway, an anecdote for you: yesterday I was on the tills pretty much all day, half a mind on the job and another half looking at the clock. It's pretty dull just bagging cards and exchanging money, and customers don't usually talk all that much. Then one elderly woman came up to me with a few cards, buried in a fairly substantial hat, and I went through all the usual motions until I noticed she had a badge fastened to her coat. It said 'SCRAP THE WALL', and had a picture underneath of said wall.
"May I ask which wall?" I said (I really am that polite). She didn't realise what I was talking about until I pointed at her badge.
"Oh," She said. "It's the Palestinian Wall. They've [the Israelis] built a wall to keep the Palestinians out, and there's people starving over there. And our government won't do anything about it." And she said all this very passionately, tucking her cards into her bag as she did so. Ever since I've been wondering how on earth she became so involved with the movement, a corner of foreign affairs only RESPECT and Palestinians on BBC News ever really talk about. I don't think I've ever been so taken aback. Good for her.

Otherwise, it's been a very busy week for me. I've developed a three-point plan for archaeology which I hope to be able to share fully at some point, and have begun essay plans for the summative assessment a month down the line. My Wednesday presentation on Viking Normandy was comprehensive if hurried, but the reading for it made for an interesting essay. I get feedback on that in 2 weeks.

My hobby this week has been the production of my own Christmas cards, something I think is coming along very well. I still can't really draw for England, but I can diligently steal designs from history and make them look reasonably nice. No pictures of that yet, however, since they will be given out as mini-gifts to certain individuals.

A shoutout here to Rachel, and her most recent blog post regarding her late dog. It's very sweet and well-written, and I urge you to take a look.

Sunday Song: a second shoutout is necessary here, in order to thank Caroline for her music suggestions, particularly The Boxer by Simon & Garfunkel. I didn't even know I knew the song, but I definitely recognise it. The lyrics are exquisite.
I had a problem choosing this week's Sunday Song, however. After some deliberation I chose something in keeping with the 60s trend I appear to be setting, The Door's Peace Frog:



The main street I live on has always reminded me of The Doors. There's always a lot going on and, particularly in the blistering summer, it brings to mind American towns. There's also a court called 'tradewinds' that inevitably makes me think about a line in their song The Crystal Ship. On Wednesday I obtained a third parallel, when I returned from town to see the after-effects of an accident between a taxi and a girl on a bike. Peace Frog's constant references to blood resonated with this really strongly.

And this is no coincidence -the lyrics were apparently inspired by an accident Jim Morrison once saw as a child.

Essays and Musical Archaeology

Two essays totalling 5000 words, two presentations and extra reading -this blog post is brought to you live from the eye of a storm.

I exaggerate, it's not all that bad. My Fieldwork question (Are post-processual approaches to fieldwork a dead-end?) I finished Friday night, and I'm pretty proud of the result. Since I am never averse to accepting a theoretical challange, I've prepared a critique of p-p theory building on the work for The Post Hole. The second, for The Vikings, is currently being produced and will be ready (hopefully) for Wednesday submission. The theme for that one will be early Normandy, and is already looking markedly less confrontational than the former. No less theoretical, however.

The essay will be my basis for a presentation I am scheduled to give that Wednesday.

Such endeavours naturally impinge on Nanowrimo, and Rachel and I are, unfortunately, at 5,000 words when we should be over 10,000 -we'll make up the difference I expect during the second half of the week when everything calms down. A shoutout for Steve is necessary here, who recently broke 20,000! We can only for the moment look on in envy.

On another note, there was only ever going to be one choice for today's Sunday Song. Simon & Garfunkel's Mrs Robinson has easily been the song of the week in this house, on some occasions being played 5 consecutive times. But more than that, it is a personal link to over a decade ago -when I was about 9 years old- when I was first introduced to music from the sixties. This song and others I listened to heavily over the course of a year (Keep The Customer Satisfied, Homeward Bound and The Sound of Silence in particular) remind me of long winter nights when everyone was late coming from work, being ill, trying coffee for the first time, and my collection of Ladybird books. Sadly my own personal sixties ended when my classmates subsequently made me embarressed about my musical taste, and I stopped listening to these songs completely from that point onward -only to rediscover them this week! Special distinction goes also to the Mamas & Papas song California Dreamin', which shared a similar history until its discovery a year or so ago. As Sony will not allow me to embed a YouTube video of Mrs Robinson for reasons known only to themselves, this song has been embedded instead: