this is it...

I know, I sound like a broken record... but here I am, in Argentina, and I’ve done nothing since I got here 3 days ago but work on the flippin’ journal. It’s not like I’d not been working on it before leaving for this trip; I had. But this is the peak season for submissions (of both new manuscripts and reviews of manuscripts sent out to review). So I got here with 44 papers to make editorial decisions on, and 28 manuscripts to send out to review (or to ‘triage’ if they would be more appropriately submitted to a different journal). So far I’ve managed to get through a meagre 37 of the 72 total manuscripts that require my attention (there are others too that require more minor attention, but I’m disregarding those for the sake of my sanity). Which means I still have 35 to do. So when I say, in the now immortal words of the King of Pop, that “this is it”, this IS it: Unless something changes, and Elsevier come through with the additional support I’ve requested, this most definitely IS IT. Otherwise the risk that I end up like Whacko Jacko is just too great. It’ll either kill me, or I’ll go completely whacko. Are you listening, Elsevier?

Once I’ve calmed down, I shall write a more interesting entry, including why I shall never fly Air France again, why an elasticated waistband isn’t such a bad idea, why you should never dispense soap before establishing that there is running water with which to rinse it off, and why going to Philadelphia and to Stockholm were recent highlights on my calendar. With a bit of luck, this trip to Argentina will also turn into a highlight. But for now, a pile of manuscripts beckon as dusk draws nearer in the Patagonian winter...

editorial mortality

I have neglected this page. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that, whereas only 3 weeks ago the journal queues were cleared, and whereas I have been working on the journal fairly consistently despite a trip to Philadelphia in the interim (more of which in a subsequent entry), there are roughly 50 manuscripts on the queues now that require my attention. No amount of tranquilizers will help (though I suspect that a valium or two to the authors who are getting jittery might not be a bad thing!).

Somewhat disturbingly, when talking with another editor (of another leading Experimental Psychology journal), this other editor said to me, on hearing about my workload: It will kill you. He meant it literally. I fear he is right.

oops!

Damn! I’m meant to be somewhere else. Not here!

the piano

Two seemingly unrelated events, one in the northern hemisphere, 38 or so years ago, the other in the southern, about 25 years ago, finally came together this weekend:

1972. Oxford, UK. When I was around 12, I saw the movie If, directed by Lindsay Anderson, and starring Malcolm McDowell. As a British schoolboy, the movie was notably poignant. But more poignant for me was the soundtrack - the Missa Luba. I asked my parents for it, and somehow, they found a copy (an LP, in fact). On the reverse side was Grieg’s Piano Concerto - the first piece of classical music I ever owned, and still to this day my favorite piece.

1984. Neuquen, Argentina. About a month ago, Silvia received an email from an Argentinian living in Germany. Emilio Peroni. He remembered her as his first piano teacher, from when he was between 7 and 10 years old (i.e. around 25 years ago). She was paying her way through University in Neuquen by teaching piano at the local music school. He had found her web page, and wanted her to know that he was now a professional concert pianist.

2009. York, UK. This weekend Emilio came to visit, and we were talking about favorite pieces, and I mentioned the Grieg piece. He sat down, and started to play it. I cannot describe what it felt like to hear someone sat at my own piano playing that... It was like I’d been waiting 38 years in anticipation of that moment, without realizing it until suddenly, unexpectedly, these two unrelated events, one in Neuquen, the other in Oxford, came together.

I write about this here so that, in the future, I perhaps find this page again, and can relive the pleasure of that moment, and the intensity of the emotion that accompanied it. And because what happened to Silvia - a student contacting her 25 years later to say “look at me - you helped make this” - is what some of us can only ever dream of. And as I sit here writing this, to the sound of her student playing for her, I feel that something extraordinary has happened.

back for a brief stopover

For reasons that only an expert psychiatrist would be able to deduce, I’m about to leave for Stockholm having just returned from New York and Washington (DC). The flight over, to New York, was uneventful, despite flying an airline I haven’t flown in years: Continental. I used my remaining air miles with them to upgrade to Business, an experience that included, as a special treat, an in-flight cheeseburger that made me appreciate the culinary craftsmanship of McDonalds...

New York was, quite literally, legendary. We were staying with friends on Washington Square, in the exact apartment that was Will Smith’s in I Am Legend. The highlight of the trip was when a tour group stopped outside to be given a quick synopsis of the movie. I couldn’t resist, and stuck my head out the window and announced that this was indeed that apartment and that the owner would be only too happy to show everyone around.. ok, I exaggerate… I confirmed that this was that appartment, and that our host (let’s just call him “Brian” for the sake of preserving his anonymity) was also a legend. Regrettably, the entire tour group found this all too entertaining, and “Brian” is now expected to deliver an impromptu show each time they return.

Serves him right, I say. This is, after all, the same person who, seeing my roving eye on my home page, felt that my time would have been better spent doing something else. Or even doing nothing.

But in all fairness, we did discover that our legendary host had hidden a couple of rather nice jazz CDs in Silvia’s suitcase before we left. Seeing as her suitcase and mine were identical, and the only way to discriminate between them was on the basis of our respective tastes in underwear, I can only guess how he figured out whose was whose...

So anyway, I’m back, just long enough to cut the grass, outstare the ducks, feed the fish, process a few papers at the journal, grab a bite to eat, pack, and leave.

Bye, then.

another trip...

Am off, almost. To New York, then Washington. Then back to (old) York for 4 days and then to Stockholm. Two weeks later, Philadelphia. No time even for a quick nervous breakdown. But here is my achievement of the week:

This is the state of play at the journal - I’ve cleared the queues ... the Associate Editors may still have some manuscripts on their queues, but for now, as a flight beckons, I barely care! What matters is that for the first time in about 3 years I can take a plane trip without taking with me a zillion manuscripts to make decisions on. Not that I can relax and watch the inflight movies - I have a chapter for a Handbook of Eye Movements that I need to finish.

Traveling with me will be my latest gadget (as well as various not so recent gadgets): a LaCie iamaKey USB key. Only disadvantage - unlike my other USB key that I’ve just given away to one of my kids, I’m not yet sure that this one will survive a 50 deg. 90 min. cycle in the washing machine. But I bet it would!

I’m sure there’s more I could say, but it’s a sunny 20 degs. outside, and there’s more to life than sitting here, typing this. At least, that’s what the self-help books say. Not that I’d know ... because if I had any, I’d not have the time to read them. And if I did, I’d probably simply scribble “not acceptable without major revision” on the cover and move on to the next...

soy sauce, sweetbreads, noodles...

Have recently returned from two conferences, each at opposite extremes of the gastronomic experience:

The first was at the University of California at Davis. Davis is just down the road from Sacramento, famous for housing the Californian governor who is, of course, not Californian. The second was at the University of Lyon, which, unsurprisingly, is in Lyon (that’s France, just in case you needed a prompt). Culinary highlights included:

• Davis: beer, wine, margarita, martini, noodles. not unreasonable coffee.
• Lyon: beer, wine, steak, sweetbreads (thymus gland), kidneys, bone marrow, fish, duck, paté du fois gras, steak tartar (raw beef), rubbish coffee.

The soy sauce from the title of this entry accompanied a part of my journey on a train from Oxford back to York until I spilled it on my MacBook Air. I’m happy to say it licked up a treat. But seeing as I had only recently spilled my iPhone down a toilet, I’m worried that this is becoming a habit (the spilling, not the licking... the iPhone is definitely off-limits, now).

And finally, a confession to share: a friend recently complained that my emails were resembling this blog more and more. And yes, said friend had already heard about the food, the soy sauce, and the toilet before they just this moment graced this URL. So I admit it: Today’s entry has been recycled - my small but valiant attempt to make this a greener blog.