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.The smell of fresh coffee and faint sound of a radio playing immediately greeted her.The grey linolium of the corridor outside had been replaced with a brighter Mexican-style pattern.A terracotta paint covered the walls along with posters of art exhibitions and cinema films.Thelma and Louise defiantly stared at her, Annie Louisa Synnerton’s painting of Joan of Arc.Police posters about domestic violence.As she headed towards the open door at the end of the corridor the sound of voices became clearer.Looking inside, she saw about a dozen people sat around.Some chatted in pairs, whilst a more general discussion seemed to be taking place at the far end of the room.‘God, sometimes it’s like passing through an airlock coming from Eric’s side into here,’ she announced to no one in particular, slumping in the nearest seat.‘You mean like leaving the Siberian steppes for civilisation?’ said a ginger-haired man in a baggy knitted jumper and corduroys.The other people listening nodded in sympathy.‘Rumour has it,’ he continued, ‘they’re slashing the department’s budget next year.And if a bit has to go, who’s do you think it will be? Eric Maudsley’s frozen wasteland or Patricia Du Rev’s hotbed of research? Especially if Patricia wins this big research grant off the Economic and Social Policy Research Council.Then it becomes simply a question of money.’‘Don’t be tight on the old man, Julian.He’s been here donkey’s years, poor bloke.It was him who set up the Social Studies Department long before Patricia showed up on the scene.’This from a serious looking student, tamping down a roll-up with a matchstick.‘Very true, Adele,’ said Julian, now back-pedalling.‘Don’t get me wrong – I respect his subject area.The elderly are a hugely undervalued resource in modern society and their care needs serious investment by the government.But look at it.How many people chose his courses this year? About six? Eric’s style of lecturing – the whole way he runs the department, in fact – it’s so out-of-date.Where does he think he is? 1960’s Russia?’‘Actually he was thinking of setting-up a new module.The ethics of modern-day farming – he mentioned it to me the other week,’ said Clare, keen to deflate Julian in front of everyone.‘Who, Maudsley?’ he replied, ‘No chance.He’s too set in his ways to change now.Anyway, why were you asking? Not after a research position in his department too?’A few people looked towards Clare for her reaction.‘Yeah come on Clare,’ said a young girl, leaning forwards with both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.The word “Fairtrade” circled the rim.‘We know you’ve as good as got a place in Patricia’s department for next year.But what if Professor Maudsley offered you one too? Which way would you be turning as you come out of the lift? Left or right?’‘Aw shit,’ said Clare, with an American accent.‘That sure would be a hard choice.’They all burst out laughing as she reached into her bag and unrolled the poster.‘Anyone fancy coming along on the demo this Saturday? They’re trying to up the rent on student accommodation by six per cent next year.They know grants haven’t gone up for ages.’‘You won’t even be a student next year,’ said Julian.‘Your graduation ceremony is in a couple of weeks, in case you’d forgotten.’‘Yeah, but it’s the principle of it.If you ask me, it’s just another step on the slippery slope to elitist higher education.’‘Yeah – I’m up for it Clare,’ said Adele, licking the end of her roll-up and putting it in her mouth.‘Nice one, Adele.’ Clare smiled.‘Anyone else?’A few people made some promises to try, if they could find the time.One or two pleaded too much work on.Clare pinned-up the poster and put her bag back over her shoulder.‘Well, hopefully see some of you there.Anyway I’d better go – I’ve got an adult literacy lesson in half an hour.’‘Your spelling’s not that bad is it?’ The room fell silent and Julian realised he’d been a little too hasty in his attempt at a joke.‘I think,’ said Adele with an admonishing tone, ‘that you’ll find Clare is taking, not attending, the class.’ She turned away from the red-faced Julian.‘Where is it Clare?’ she asked respectfully.‘On the west side of town.It’s just a small set up – we’re working with refugees.Iraqi women mainly.’The comment earned her some approving nods and a couple of raised thumbs.Clare got up from her seat, and as she did so, the feather fell from her cardigan.It drifted slowly to the floor, noticed only by Julian.He waited until he heard the double doors swing shut at the end of the corridor, then surreptitiously picked it up and slipped it into his glasses case [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The smell of fresh coffee and faint sound of a radio playing immediately greeted her.The grey linolium of the corridor outside had been replaced with a brighter Mexican-style pattern.A terracotta paint covered the walls along with posters of art exhibitions and cinema films.Thelma and Louise defiantly stared at her, Annie Louisa Synnerton’s painting of Joan of Arc.Police posters about domestic violence.As she headed towards the open door at the end of the corridor the sound of voices became clearer.Looking inside, she saw about a dozen people sat around.Some chatted in pairs, whilst a more general discussion seemed to be taking place at the far end of the room.‘God, sometimes it’s like passing through an airlock coming from Eric’s side into here,’ she announced to no one in particular, slumping in the nearest seat.‘You mean like leaving the Siberian steppes for civilisation?’ said a ginger-haired man in a baggy knitted jumper and corduroys.The other people listening nodded in sympathy.‘Rumour has it,’ he continued, ‘they’re slashing the department’s budget next year.And if a bit has to go, who’s do you think it will be? Eric Maudsley’s frozen wasteland or Patricia Du Rev’s hotbed of research? Especially if Patricia wins this big research grant off the Economic and Social Policy Research Council.Then it becomes simply a question of money.’‘Don’t be tight on the old man, Julian.He’s been here donkey’s years, poor bloke.It was him who set up the Social Studies Department long before Patricia showed up on the scene.’This from a serious looking student, tamping down a roll-up with a matchstick.‘Very true, Adele,’ said Julian, now back-pedalling.‘Don’t get me wrong – I respect his subject area.The elderly are a hugely undervalued resource in modern society and their care needs serious investment by the government.But look at it.How many people chose his courses this year? About six? Eric’s style of lecturing – the whole way he runs the department, in fact – it’s so out-of-date.Where does he think he is? 1960’s Russia?’‘Actually he was thinking of setting-up a new module.The ethics of modern-day farming – he mentioned it to me the other week,’ said Clare, keen to deflate Julian in front of everyone.‘Who, Maudsley?’ he replied, ‘No chance.He’s too set in his ways to change now.Anyway, why were you asking? Not after a research position in his department too?’A few people looked towards Clare for her reaction.‘Yeah come on Clare,’ said a young girl, leaning forwards with both hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.The word “Fairtrade” circled the rim.‘We know you’ve as good as got a place in Patricia’s department for next year.But what if Professor Maudsley offered you one too? Which way would you be turning as you come out of the lift? Left or right?’‘Aw shit,’ said Clare, with an American accent.‘That sure would be a hard choice.’They all burst out laughing as she reached into her bag and unrolled the poster.‘Anyone fancy coming along on the demo this Saturday? They’re trying to up the rent on student accommodation by six per cent next year.They know grants haven’t gone up for ages.’‘You won’t even be a student next year,’ said Julian.‘Your graduation ceremony is in a couple of weeks, in case you’d forgotten.’‘Yeah, but it’s the principle of it.If you ask me, it’s just another step on the slippery slope to elitist higher education.’‘Yeah – I’m up for it Clare,’ said Adele, licking the end of her roll-up and putting it in her mouth.‘Nice one, Adele.’ Clare smiled.‘Anyone else?’A few people made some promises to try, if they could find the time.One or two pleaded too much work on.Clare pinned-up the poster and put her bag back over her shoulder.‘Well, hopefully see some of you there.Anyway I’d better go – I’ve got an adult literacy lesson in half an hour.’‘Your spelling’s not that bad is it?’ The room fell silent and Julian realised he’d been a little too hasty in his attempt at a joke.‘I think,’ said Adele with an admonishing tone, ‘that you’ll find Clare is taking, not attending, the class.’ She turned away from the red-faced Julian.‘Where is it Clare?’ she asked respectfully.‘On the west side of town.It’s just a small set up – we’re working with refugees.Iraqi women mainly.’The comment earned her some approving nods and a couple of raised thumbs.Clare got up from her seat, and as she did so, the feather fell from her cardigan.It drifted slowly to the floor, noticed only by Julian.He waited until he heard the double doors swing shut at the end of the corridor, then surreptitiously picked it up and slipped it into his glasses case [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]