Cyril Squirrel
Christmas was very quiet on campus. As the squirrellettes unwrapped their seasonal gifts of multi-mega-death computer games and nibbled their nut cutlets, the only sound was the merry clank of icicles dropping from the scaffolding on Falmer House. Unfortunately by waiting for the closure, the snow came too late and we were unable to have our customary fits of hysterics at the first sighting of a snow crystal on the horizon.
"How fortunate we are to have a dynamic research base which is achieving world class excellence in so many fields." Thus spake Gillian Shepherd, Secretary of State for Education, with what must be seen as admirable restraint, given the seismic reverberations of the outcomes of the Research Assessment Exercise within the universities themselves. Indeed the whole of the academic world seems to be behaving like the chorus in a Greek drama: the whoops of delight and shouts of hurrah that issued from the bunker in Sussex House just before Christmas quite discountenanced Mrs S who fell off her branch in surprise. The gaily euphoric condition of our own Vice-Chancellor no doubt sharply contrasted with that of his counterpart at, say, Exeter (which unlike Sussex did not do well). His lamentations I am sure would have reached Job-like proportions. The Higher treated the publication of results as though it were VE day and a royal wedding rolled into one, with acres of backslapping and self congratulation about how clever we all are, and how much cleverer we have all become now that we have to compete with one another for a proportion of our meagre research money: for all the world as though one department's gain was not another department's loss. Already a self-styled Ivy League is calling for more of the pot, fixed-term research-only contracts are on the increase and members of departments with 1s or 2s may find themselves acquiring dogs on strings and selling the Higher from draughty doorways to supplement their income.
Being an elderly rodent, I remember a time when the University roads were nameless and traffic wardens were simply devices with which to frighten the children. Then with an unsurpassed lyrical magic, names such as Arts Road and the inspirational North South Road brought light and order to what had previously been darkness and chaos. According to last week's Bulletin, many buildings are equally prosaically named 'after their principal usage'. Whilst one could clearly have fun with this idea - what precisely is Sussex House principally used for, and what lies behind the curious grammar of the Education Development Building for that matter?- recent changes in the organisation of the University have created new entities which mean that we need new names for some of our buildings. Curiously this includes the Refectory on the dubious grounds that the name no longer refers to its principal usage. Strange. Last time I was there everyone was munching furiously, even the older science dons in the Senior Common Room continue to manfully wrestle their spam sandwiches from the gloomy depths of their tupperware caskets.
However, again according to last week's Bulletin, we are all invited to suggest names for the Refectory and MOLS, MAPS, the AFRC, and the new student residences at King's Road, Brighton. Geographers have risen to the challenge and appear to have put in a heavy suggestion that physical features might be the thing, such as rivers and forests and even, apparently, hills. (Jimmy and mole come immediately to mind). However, I suspect the dead hand of North South thinking for if you or I want to make a suggestion we are encouraged to obtain a copy of "the paper setting out the full policy and guidelines", before "formal proposals" are submitted to the Estates Committee. So, in order to stimulate creativity, and since competitions have been thin on the ground since mole's departure, a bottle to the best 'informal' and 'unofficial' suggestions for names for the above buildings - entries to the Information Office by 3l January.
