Save our souls

I’m writing a book. It goes well, so I am completely exhausted. For the last two and a half weeks, I have spent 8-12 hours a day in front of the computer screen, mostly writing. Writing a book is draining, intellectually, emotionally, and, especially at my age, physically. But a book counts for as much as a good article in the British research evaluation. To be honest, it really makes no sense to write academic books any more. And yet, I tell myself, no article will ever give the elation of holding a published book. Continue reading “Save our souls”

Those about to speak…

I am going to attend a conference soon. But as much as I look forward to it (and to Rome, which I adore), I also know, it will be a time of frustration. But before I offer my rant, I’ll tell a story. About 15 years ago I attended one of large international conferences in pragmatics. As usual on such occasions, there were a number of plenary lectures which were 3-4 times longer than the time allocated to mere mo Continue reading “Those about to speak…”

I miss the typewriter

It’s been just over 25 years since I received my doctorate. I remember it very well. An oath to preserve my integrity as a scholar (in Latin), being told that my name was in the second book where all doctorates were recorded (the first ended in 1930s) or the pro-vice-chancellor (in Polish ‘prorektor’) who was complaining that his gown with fur would make him sweat. But what I remember most, is typing my doctorate. On a typewriter. Continue reading “I miss the typewriter”

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