Lesser Feasts

One of my better covers Blessed John Duns Scotus, OFM, died (according to tradition) on 8 November 1308, so today is his feast day, for anyone inclined to celebrate. I actually started writing about Scotus entirely because someone else suggested the idea to me. That's not a particularly respectable reason to start working on a historical figure (my reason for working on Anselm is even less respectable; I'll get to that at some point), but the interest quickly became quite sincere, and Scotus has taken over my life and then relinquished it in waves ever since. I currently owe OUP the definitive (ha!) book on Scotus's ethics. Yeah, well, I owe lots of people lots of things. ***** I spent last weekend at home in Tampa. It was not a successful visit, since I spent the whole time suffering, and then recovering, from a stomach bug. I did lose 3.5 pounds over the weekend, but not, I suspect, in the way my trainer was encouraging. Our dog, Tess, is not particularly cuddly. She like...

James McIntosh Patrick, The Striped Scarf  (1932) The image is, obviously, a painting of me just before my first conference session. The Society for Medieval and Renaissance Philosophy held its first-ever stand-alone conference this week. I am actually not much of a conference-goer, and I didn't have anything on the program myself, but this was a chance to see lots of people I haven't seen in a while. Plus, it was held at Notre Dame, where I did my graduate work, so there was a nice opportunity for some nostalgia as well. Dinner the first night was at an Irish pub with a couple of old friends. There was a larger gathering at an upscale bar two blocks away, and I protested feebly (and not altogether sincerely) that I really should get back to the hotel and get some sleep. OK, fine, I'll go for half an hour. "Are you Thomas Williams? Can I give you a hug?" That from a scholar I've interacted with in print and on email but never met before. Lots of lively convers...

By the time I remembered I was supposed to sign up for worship at Old St Paul's, I was too late, so this morning I went to the Cathedral. It's my last Sunday in Edinburgh (for now). Tomorrow I take the train down to London; on Tuesday I fly home. So today is about getting ready to leave, taking care of unfinished business, and taking stock. The first bit of unfinished business was a print in the window of one of the galleries in Stockbridge that I had decided to buy. So after the service I walked down to Stockbridge. Ah, the Stockbridge Market is open. There's nothing in the fridge; maybe I'll find something I want for lunch. And behold! a booth selling Scotch eggs. I had just  been thinking that I hadn't had a single Scotch egg the whole time I've been here. That's lunch sorted. And then there was a bakery stall, where I found a piece of cake that surely could not be as delicious as it looked, but the experiment seemed worth conducting. Then on to the galle...

My time in Edinburgh is drawing to a close, so I'm beginning to wrap things up. Yesterday I gave my research talk to the Institute for Advanced Studies in the Humanities -- quite a different experience from the first two times, since it was all disembodied. I was very careful to make the talk accessible to a broad audience of humanities folks, which is not easy for a fairly technical subject that requires a good bit of background to motivate it. Judging by the comments and questions, I think I succeeded, though at the expense of annoying the one other philosopher in the group, who clearly wanted a technical talk on the metaphysics of substances, powers, and dispositions, instead of the general-audience talk on virtues and the good life that I had so carefully prepared. (This particular philosopher practices that version of philosophy-as-blood-sport that I associate in particular with, well, her department, of which I used to be a member.) After my talk I turned in the keys to my of...

 I find that a lot of my self-isolation period is occupied with planning what I'm going to do when I'm no longer required to self-isolate. Trip to the Cairngorms? All worked out. Plans for daily public worship beginning on Michaelmas? You bet. Another favorite pastime is trying imagine how I might excusably go out into the world (where, strangely enough, it is persistently sunny). For example, I could surely be allowed to go out to empty my trash in the nearest bin, and then it would be totally understandable if I got turned around on the way back and accidentally  walked all the way down to Stockbridge and then down along the Water of Leith and back through Canonmills . . . OK, maybe not. Fortunately I'm managing to get work done. I just submitted a bibliographical entry on Anselm -- quite a lot of work for barely 5000 words -- and my proposal for the latest Oxbridge Handguide to Stuff should be ready to go off tomorrow. Then it's on to Scotus on virtue. Music is also ...