I went to the summer conference of SOTS (Society for Old Testament Study). As in previous years, I was one of the least qualified people in the room (which is actually rather a safe position to be in, there is nothing to lose in the way of status).

I set off from home on a dull Monday morning, and caught the early afternoon train from Kings Cross to Durham. It happened to be an Edinburgh train, and I was tempted to just stay on it, and have a sneaky few days in Edinburgh while Husband did all my duties at home. When I arrived in Durham it was sunny, and I decided to walk to Collingwood College. I had not factored-in the hills; Durham has a lot of them. Or the lack of signposts; Durham has very few road name signs. I arrived at the venue resembling a witch recently evicted from a sauna. Everyone else stepped from taxis looking very smart and intelligent.

I went to the reception desk, received my name badge (kept it round the wrong way until I had managed to tidy up a bit) and collected my room key. I set off to find my room, returned a few minutes later and was issued with a map—the campus is like a rabbit warren, it all connects (great if it rains) and lack of signs seems to be a feature of university campuses. Maybe it’s like in Malta, and they plan to confuse any invaders. My room, when I finally found it, was clean and uncomfortable, with a tiny shower room and paper-thin walls. It was also extremely hot, which seems to be another feature of university campuses. But it was a nice private space to escape to when I needed a break from trying to look intelligent.

This was my fifth conference, so I now recognise most people and would include some of them as friends—even though I see them only at conferences. There was a drinks reception, so I changed into a dress, combed my hair, and negotiated the rabbit warren back to the dining area. I remember my first SOTS, when I hid in my too-hot room, too nervous to join the reception until I was sure the cohort from my college had arrived. I am less anxious now. I recognise several people by their names, because they have written the books in the libraries, and it’s fun to meet them, to tell them I have enjoyed their writing, to discover whether the person matches the style of words. (They often do not, some of the people who write very clear, easy to understand books are less comfortable in real life.)

Therefore, only a few minutes after arriving at the university, there I was, drink in hand, chatting with a group of clever people who I have never met before, trying to look intelligent—or at least, not too stupid. But as I stood there, drink in hand, I was aware that I could feel an unusual crease in my dress, and the awful thought loomed—was my dress inside-out? I tried to remember whether I had actually looked in a mirror after changing, and I realised that no, I had checked my face when I combed my hair, but I had not looked in a full-length mirror at any time, I wasn’t even sure if there was one. (There was, I later found one inside the wardrobe door.) It was therefore completely possible that my clothing was the wrong way round. I daren’t look down to check, because I sort of didn’t want to know until I was alone, and could rush off to change. So I held eye-contact with the person talking, but I probably looked distracted. When the main group moved away, I glanced down. All was well; dress properly positioned. But I did make a note that in future, this is the sort of thing I should check before I leave the room. Although, if I am honest, it is possible that the sort of people who attend SOTS might not notice inside-out clothing anyway.

The conference continued with dinner, and then a lecture. This was the format of the whole week: food, lecture, coffee, lecture, repeat. It was fairly intense, because even during the mealtimes people continued talking about academic things. Even at breakfast, the conversation was intelligent, which was bit of a struggle for me. The lectures were interesting, and even when I didn’t understand the whole thing (there was one lecture with a lot of Greek discussed) there was usually something that struck a chord, a little oh, I didn’t know that, moment, which is always fun.

By the end of the conference, I was exhausted. I found it impossible to ‘switch off’ my brain after the evening lectures, and this combined with the hot room and uncomfortable bed meant I slept very little. I also missed my home. I was therefore very happy on Thursday morning, when I could abandon my room, and walk through the beautiful city of Durham to the station. I am really pleased that I attended the conference, and I learnt a great deal. But going home was wonderful.

I hope you have something to look forward to this week. Thanks for reading.
Take care.
Love, Anne x

I will write about some of the papers in another post.