Not so bad so far, nothing blown away, though the wind is still sounding around the house and the rain washes against the windows. But all ferries were cancelled and no bus services on Mainland. It is sad that we are here for only a short time, for such a short time. We head back tomorrow afternoon, and will spend the night in Thurso again before driving south. Meanwhile, the gale's path from the north west is traced in spray and turbulence across the diagonal of St Tredwell's Loch. I can see how the constant noise of the wind can wear one down!
I have started to read A Jar of Seed Corn by Jocelyn Rendall, lucid and quietly ironic in tone.
Tonight we are off to supper.
I haven't done very much work, partly because I am too absorbed in my new surroundings, but I have been thinking about what I want to say. Suddenly I have a crowd of commitments, more than I am used to, though probably normal for the more professionally oriented academic. I am writing a paper for a collection on teaching philosophy, in which I shall try to use some material from Plato's Symposium that I have used elsewhere. (There is a draft further back in these postings). Then a paper for an RIP conference on Philosophy as Therapeia, then something for a symposium on the work of David Cooper at Durham, then a philosophy of religion paper for the RIP in London in February 09. More immediately I need to do a final version of my paper for the Philosophy as a Way of Life volume I am co-editing with Michael Chase.
Amy and I went to the shop against a strong wind and showers of splintering hail.
A powercut around five for several hours, so it was good to eat pizza and salad in a warm house bright with candles and an ample fire ... the lights came on as we sat eating our After Eights, then went off, then came on again. The wind is still strong but not quite as brutal ...
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