I know I'm a bit of a broken record with the anti-LLM posting, but I recently read this excellent article from Katherine Rundell in the Guardian that was not only extremely compelling but also strangely gave me a bit of hope, or at least a call to action.

I talk a great deal about reading for pleasure; I’ve written elsewhere about the necessity of pleasure in the classroom, and why it is not an optional extra but the hallmark of true education. We must find ways to show children that reading gives you access to an inexhaustible source of delight. But I worry, too, that we are limiting the meaning of the word pleasure. Learning is a strange and discomfiting experience; it’s a struggle and a frustration, and epiphanies are rare. It is not always pleasure in its easiest sense.

So I think we also need to talk to young people about reading to outrun and outfight injustice. Reading to get faster, swifter and tougher; to develop powers of scrutiny and criticism and huge creative imagination. Reading human work to insist that we are human. Reading for liberation and emancipation; reading for intellectual freedom, and to have the strength to fight in the arenas of the mind, because when we let a computer think for us, we put a gun to the head of civilisation.

There are dark days ahead. If we are to fight against those with untold financial wealth, we will need untold intellectual wealth. We will need tough-minded people; people with stamina, a huge range of knowledge, and an ability to see wide and far enough to understand in real time what is being done to us. Reading for pleasure and delight are vital – but alongside that and even more urgently: reading for power.

Somehow I missed it that I got an award for my supervision last year. It slipped my mind completely until I got this certificate in my inbox:

Looking at the list of awardees, it seems any supervisor who was nominated was awarded such a commendation (except for the first-place winners). Thank you to whichever of my students nominated me!

Tibi dixit cor meum, quæsívi vultum tuum, vultum tuum Dómine requíram: ne avértas fáciem tuam a me.

I was once again the director of our choir at All Saints Ainslie, on a cold and wet Sunday with few choristers and few parishioners, even though it was a transferred feast. We sang Stopford's Do not be afraid, a poem by Gerard Markland based on the words of Isaiah:

Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you.

I have called you by your name;

you are mine.

When you walk through the waters,

I'll be with you;

you will never sink beneath the waves.

When the fire is burning all around you,

you will never be consumed by the flames.

When the fear of loneliness is looming,

then remember I am at your side.

When you dwell in the exile of a stranger,

remember you are precious in my eyes.

You are mine, O my child,

I am your Father,

and I love you with a perfect love.

Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you.

I have called you by your name;

you are mine.

There's something weird going on, because we celebrated the Transfiguration already on Quinquagesima Sunday, and last year they made no special observance of the feast of the Transfiguration. The transferring of feasts is such a mess! I'm liking Oliver Brewer-Lennon's policy of never transferring anything and celebrating feasts on the day more and more.