Got woken up just before 1am by the house shaking. Jamie (now 10) got up too, so evidently I wasn't dreaming. Turns out it was the UK's largest earthquake in 25 years ('large' is relative - it was 5.3 on the Richter scale).

A number of people know that I'm an avid fan of Karate. So you can imagine my reaction, some months ago, when I read that the MP with responsibility for sport and culture believed that boxing should be introduced to all schools. Somehow, that's going to make children feel more empowered and put an end to the juvenile crime that is apparently sweeping the country like some unchecked viral epidemic. My personal view is that boxing is a brutal and ill-disciplined sport. It also causes severe brain damage, making deformed ears and noses the least of a boxer's concerns... So.... one Saturday morning, in a moment of boredom, I sent an email to this MP and suggested that boxing was not fit for said purpose, but that if he was serious about trying to teach respect and responsibility through sport, martial arts such as Karate would be better suited. I think that my email must have been misunderstood, because yesterday I received a long reply extolling the virtues of boxing over the marital arts.

My MacBook Air arrived. It's so lickable. And it comes with a useful cleaning cloth with which to wipe it down after you've licked it...

So... I wrote a fellowship proposal 10 months ago than went to ESRC (one of the UK research councils). I was lucky. I was awarded the fellowship (all told, it's worth £370,000 over 3 years). The fellowship pays my salary and some other stuff. The expectation was that the money would pay for a temporary 3-year lecturer to take over my teaching and administration, and that the leftover could pay for a research assistant as well. There's also money in there for a 3-yr PhD studentship and a bunch of equipment. But here's the rub: The University of York (my employer) have told my department that none of the fellowship money will be passed on to them to pay for a replacement for me. Essentially, the university will keep the fellowship money, and my department will have to struggle on without a penny with which to replace me. Unless something changes in the next few weeks, I shall have little option but to write to ESRC and turn down the fellowship on the grounds that my department cannot afford it. It means that the university could lose out on monies that would have, in any other university, paid for that 3-yr replacement lecturer, that 3-yr research assistant, and that PhD student.

If I ever end up writing that letter, turning down the fellowship, a letter of resignation to my vice chancellor will most likely follow.

ok - I whine too much. I admit it.

UPDATE: A couple of days later, the head finance guy phoned me up to allay my fears. In all fairness to him, he was very nice about it all. Apparently, it will most likely work out ok, it's just not clear when the money will be given to the department. One hopes in time to employ my replacement and the research assistant... Still, I shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing; it's bad enough trying to convince reviewers and grant agencies to fund our research without having to then spend even more time than it took to get the grant in the first place trying to persuade the university to pass the funds on.

I admit it - my posts tend to be rather whiny, as a friend pointed out. And that same friend pointed out that I shouldn't feel guilty about the journal. After all, Since Jan 1st, I've made 70+ editorial decisions and sent 50+ papers out to review. I've also come back from South America, gone to North America, terminated one mole, installed the new eye-tracker, had my credit card details stolen, and been ill with influenza. What's there to whine about? That I haven't yet managed to write the paper that was due Feb 1st? A minor detail, that... Fact is, I provide a quality service and deserve a medal.

Perhaps if I repeated that last sentence a few million times I'd eventually believe it...

Actually: despite the odd hiccup at the journal, I think that I, and the associate editors, do a fantastic job. I genuinely believe that. It's just that I like to whine about all the other things I'd like to do but find hard to get done in the time that's left over. Perhaps if I spent less time whining...

Well... not quite. But my credit card details. There I was, browsing my credit card statement online, as one does on a peaceful Saturday morning, when I thought to myself: "oh look, 9 separate payments over a 6-day period to EasyJet - I wonder where I'm going, and who with..". And then a couple of £700 insurance payments and various prepay minutes to phone companies I don't subscribe to... all totaling just short of £3000. Phoned up my credit card company, who were amazingly helpful, and didn't question even once the possibility that I might have simply forgotten that I'd made 9 separate payments to EasyJet... new card is in the post, old card is already cut up...

I wouldn't mind, really, but if someone's going to steal even a part of my identity, they could at least edit a paper or two while they're about it...

... is on vacation - sadly, I am not on vacation, and I wish it would come back. Am in bed with 'flu-like symptoms. Can't possibly be 'flu as I had a 'flu jab in October. But hey - if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, flies like a duck, and tastes like duck, it's a duck, right? So it's 'flu. Plain and simple.

My first thought as I woke up with fever and aches all over (even my feet ached) was: it's Friday, and Fridays are spent working on the journal (as are weekends and Monday afternoons). This was a catastrophe. The thought that I might actually sleep the 'flu off didn't survive more than a few milliseconds, despite my body telling me that that is what it needed to do... so have been working from my bed, sending out papers to review, and dealing with various other issues. And I feel guilty that I haven't done more. It is a sad indictment of my life that I feel guilty that I am unable to work on the journal because I'm ill. And most likely, it's working on the journal in the first place that has contributed to the suppression of my immune system.

:( Hmph...

... well, over the Atlantic (again). Have decided to write down my thoughts on the passing of time:

It's SO SLOW..

I've just looked at my watch, having written 6 decision letters, and there's still SEVEN hours of flight to go. I'm exhausted. No amount of coffee or United Airlines goodwill is going to get me through the next 7 hours. The guy sitting next to me has a very clever screen protector on his PC which means that he can see what's on his screen (and mine, I suppose, if he cared to look), but I cannot see what's on his from this angle. The fact that he has to insert a plastic passkey into the machine to use it makes me think that whatever it is, it must be really interesting, and just the kind of thing that, were I to read it, would make those 6 hours and 58 minutes pass all the quicker...

6 hours and 47 minutes to go... and time isn't speeding up. My eyelids are definitely heavier than they were before. The guy in the seat next to me is doing gymnastic exercises in his seat... Am curious about his screen... what's he got to hide?

6 hours and 32 minutes to go... I can't go on like this. Some turbulence would be good, just to break up the monotony of working on the journal uninterrupted. I have important decisions to make as I read through manuscripts and reviewers' comments: Should I keep listening to Chopin (soporific value: High; intellectual value: High) or switch to Sting (soporific value: Low; intellectual value: Medium; Carbon emissions: Excellent)? It's not easy being an editor... but I do feel I need to change the music, as the chap next to me is now doing some silent, headphoned version of the jitterbug... what's HE listening to??

5 hours and 17 minutes left... Finally! Some excitement: Mr. Jitterbug went to the toilet, so being the curious person that I am, I took the opportunity to surreptitiously open up his laptop (passkey still inserted) and take a look at what he'd been writing. Evidently, he's a civil servant of some kind (it was that boring..). And I think he could do with a bit of help with his grammar... OH COME ON.. do you really think I'd open up his laptop when he wasn't looking, let alone advertise that fact on my blog? Honestly.... what do you take me for? Get real - it was a PC, and as a Mac evangelist I wouldn't touch a PC with a barge-pole....

4 hours and 10 minutes left... current rejection rate on this flight, for 1st submissions sent out to reviewers: 70%. Which sounds like it's a little short of the journal's average rejection rate of 85% - but 15-20% of submissions didn't even get sent to review, so under one interpretation of these numbers, I'm rejecting about the right number of papers.

2 hours and 30 minutes to go.. I have a streaming cold. Tissues are insufficient defense against the floodwaters emanating from my nostrils. I guess you neither needed, nor wanted, to know that. Chap in the next seat has now graduated from gymnastics to a form of ballet. Very impressive, really... either that or he's just trying to avoid the nasal torrent...

Landed.