Complaints, Conferences, and Cold

D. helped organize his department’s conference which took place this past Wednesday and Thursday (This is why our Thanksgiving tales will come along a bit later). Running concurrent with the opening tea and first speakers was a scheduled and staged Glasgow University protest against increases in tuition. Through the quirkiness of a single idle comment from the student in charge who wanted to “check the conference room one last time,” D. and his fellow conference organizers were trapped inside the administration building while students conducted the most peaceful protest we’ve experienced. “We’ll let your people in,” the campus security told him earnestly. “Nae fear of that. But we canna let you oot.”

Soo. Whilst D. watched, trapped and a little grumpy at missing tea and breakfast, the students marched, carrying flags and banners, screaming and shouting. But: they had people in neon shirts to stop traffic for them; they only ever blocked one lane of the road; nothing was broken or damaged; and they did not even tread on the grass when coming or going from their protest!

The Glasgow Police Helicopter followed them along their whole route – from the main gates of Glasgow University, winding around through University Gardens, down University Avenue to Woodlands Road, through to George’s Square (and the city Chambers), and back to the University. It hovered over them, as if it could accomplish something other than spending the funds not spent upon funding education (helicopter time isn’t cheap, after all). The priorities are a bit skewed in this picture, we think.

Though the whole thing seemed to be sort of rehearsed, and campus security was even a little freaked out that D. photographed things — these students were not bent on destruction, unlike the students at the tuition protest in London last week, which apparently started out in the same orderly fashion, but ended with torched cars and mounted policemen riding into the crowd. We’re grateful G.U. opted out of that.

In the evenings, when one can draw a full breath (it burns to take deep breaths — nose, throat and lungs burn, it is so frigid out), there’s the smell of smoke in the air. Peat fires and coal smoke and the more familiar scent of burning wood. Yes, indeed, there’s a bit of a nip in the air around here: the walks are icy, the streets sparkle with salt and a fur of frost, and the fountain in the park has a layer of ice on top, to the tune of about 1 inch of solid ice at the edges, and more than that in the middle. As you can see, great entertainment was found in breaking away the ice floes from the edge and flinging them into the middle, where they broke through and stood like a temporary and ragged Stonehenge. You will be proud to note that D. flung this particular icy missile himself. Ars brevis.

We’re expecting snow any time now, the heater is barely effective enough to combat our single-paned windows, and this isn’t even “proper” Winter yet. Our ice-cleats are ready, though, as we expect to need them at any point. We know that we’ll need our thermal underwear tomorrow, as we’re heading off to Edinburgh with the University’s International Families group. We’ll spend the morning in Edinburgh wandering through St. John’s Church (which has a gift shop and a coffee shop, so we’ll be warm after D. takes his pictures), and perhaps take a few exterior pictures of St. Giles Cathedral. We’ll then will make our way to Lauriston Castle in the afternoon. With plenty of warm-up stops along the way. And very short ambles through their gardens. Brrrr.

It’s an early trip, though — no one wants to get caught in shopper’s traffic, so we’re on our way at 8:30 and to Lauriston by 2:30. We might even get home by full dark, which is these days at ten to five, with the sun going down before four.

Hope that you are staying warm where you are, and eating well.

-D & T