A Night Out With The Boys.
The cup admittedly was the 'warren cup', which pre 1970 was refused, when offered for sale by most british museums and not to be outdone, turned away by a customs official in the US, in the 50's. The reason? The Warren cup is the only as yet discovered silver cup, Roman in origin, depicting 2 scenes of men engaged in homoerotic acts. The attitude and the law changed and so finally the Warren cup was finally bought by the British museum and was the centre piece of the exhibition. Its near perfect condition after 2000 yrs is incredible.
Depressingly, out of the 4 arranged speakers, all of whom were goood, only by the 3rd did we reach a speaker who exceeded my academic qualifications; this depresses me, not from the point of view that they weren't capable they obviously were. One though is going to need to work on his presentation skills before he completes his master, the other masters student, was really enjoyable to listen to, she discussed Egyptian brother sister marriage and how this was portrayed by the romans. His was on sexual graffiti found in Pompeii and the house of menander. What depresses is I sometimes see when I attend these, myself down there, declaiming on some obscure classical area. Perhaps I feel it as a loss that I never really went after the PhD when I should have. I still, just, remain convinced my mind is sharp enough to complete one.
I don't wake up every morning cursing this error. I really don't as I am presently pretty happy with my lot as far as I can be. But when in these situations I do have a realisation that I have either missed out or I confirm that dream of one day going for it, just to prove that last final point to an old teacher who sat across from my mother at a 4th year parents eveing and in my presence proceeded to tell her that I would struggle to finish A levels, and a degree was totally out of the question.
Mr Lander, that odious little man, at that point inspired me to prove him wrong, which I did when I achieved my degree easily, even deliberately dropping a class from a predicted first to a 2:1 through my colossal and sheer arrogance at the time, for a bonkers reason, is seem to remember. After the degree was achieved, I remember clearly that I had nothing more to prove, so I think subconsciously stopped academically striving. If there had been a professor who had challenged me with the classic 'you'd struggle to do a masters and definitely not a PhD I'd probably be Dr Theaker right now! Still no complaints though and there may be still time to crack it, perhaps when the children are a little older.
Until then I shall keep enjoying the symposiums and lectures and quietly but humbly bemoan the passing of time and admire those thrusting young turks, which a greater sense of purpose than me.
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