A silk purse from a sow’s ear

In the last month or so, I’ve attended a couple of conferences. I was pleased, on both occasions, to deputise for other colleagues in MARC, and hope I didn't cause too much collateral damage, what with my reticence, cynicism, monkey boots and too many layers of clothing.

The conferences I attended:

• The Future of Student Recruitment, by the IDP Connect folk (the new name for the WhatUni and CUG), in the wonderful garden area at the Barbican
• UCAS’ Teachers and Advisors Fair, in the rather grand and gilded surroundings of The Principal Hotel in Manchester.

Go me, RIGHT?

Kingo in conference

Well sort of. Yes. And no. I was a shoe in for Marketing in the first instance and for Recruitment in the second. Both disciplines are, in honesty, beyond me. Yes, I’m one of the old hands in MAR, but I’d struggle to get sell a fully plumbed in water cooler in a desert. My expertise, such as it is, is in Market Research. Which despite and almost because of its bad press, requires scruples and a level- or at worst a pretence - of even-handedness.

I had to represent this. Our blurb for the UCAS conference. I mainly achieved it through staring into the middle distance.

The UCAS event had some interesting and (for me) relevant sessions. It was also really enlightening to hear about teachers and advisors’ perspectives. And guess what? They’re not happy about unconditional offers. Can’t blame them. If you aren’t ‘up on’ the thorny issue, where have you been? Here’s a Bob-piece on our response to the practice and how we’re dipping our toes in the filthy pond of despair.

The UCAS event was a two day affair. Sadly, our allowance for meals didn’t stretch to the £60 asking price for the UCAS dinner, so I slummed it for dinner round the student quarter around Oxford Road. Two conversations struck me. Nothing to do with HE, but the first (point 1 below) definitely from a party connected, presumably to either Manchester or Manchester Metropolitan University:

1.  A table of people were wondering what kind of monster would eat crumpets without butter or spread. Can see their point. They were referring to a mutual colleague who indulged in such fantastic behaviour. A monster. “Off his head half the time,” one of the group observed;
2. In a different establishment, in a room dedicated, rather perplexingly, to Jack Daniels, a group of three people discussed the likelihood of being sent to prison for a driving violation if the offender already has six points on their licence. Wasn’t a discussion I wanted to get into.

I’m going to try and bring some more meaningful feedback to the MAR team. Some of it will almost certainly appear in my intranet feedback page. Shout if you’re interested, in the meantime.

So anyway, I'm off to see The Sleaford Mods at the 100 Club in London this evening. I often post a clip of music at the music at the end of my pieces, but The Sleaford Mods are big on swearing, and not so big on tunes. Instead, here's a beautiful piece of British 60s jazz, by the Rendell Carr Quintet. Check out that Coltrane-esque soprano. These guys were on top of their game. I missed out on a recent repressing of their much sought for albums and feel sad about it.