I have taken my first step into work on my PhD. Ultimately it many never form a huge part of the results, or conclusions, but discussions I have with myself, with Caroline, with my colleagues will be the ones concerning method, and the method started today. Today I undertook my first piece of oral history.
I am currently taking a Masters in Social Research Methods at the School of Social Policy, Sociology, and Social Research (SSPSSR) at the University of Kent, Canterbury. Its funny saying that as I know how ridiculous that sounds and also because everyone who is ever likely to read this will already know. As part of the methods training, paid for you by one of the last 1+3 funding awards this country is ever so willy nilly hand out to the likes of me. If I had not made funding this year, I would have had to change my dreams. This has never been spoken, but Caroline and I know that we would need to. That said, they are now teaching me something that I never had time for as an undergrad. They are teaching me the methods of research... I thought that was what you did when you opened a book, or drank a pint with a friend!
So today, armed with a GPS phone accurate to 2700 meters (thank god it was that good) a shaky email giving me directions to a farm from the wrong direction, and assuming I was in a car rather than walking the 3.7miles from Berkhampsted Train station, and a name 'Ray Cooper'. Oh year... and it was raining. I got as close as I could to the farm without moving away from the nearest pub, and I stopped for a swift one. I honestly thought it would help. A sandwich and and a mint later I continued the last 1.9miles. I arrived, perfectly on time, and only damp enough not to illicit remark. We smiled and shook hands, he seemed instantly at ease in his own workshop. People obviously came and chatted alot, and it was good. I selected a tall seat for me, as if I was about to sit down and strum a guitar that he had just made. Ray Cooper was a Luthrian. He makes bespoke guitars for the those who can afford it. He is a drummer, a guitar player, he is "Ray the Guitar Maker". He lives in Potten End North East of Berkhampsted, and as we sit down and settle, I explain what this is for, and about the recorder. I place it casually on the floor and I ask "So tell when did you first hear about Potten End".
What then opened up was a delightful development of what Ray though of Potten End, Rays life surrounding the little village and how it has book marked his life through his 62 years. I spent the entire time stealing glances and trying to keep abreast of the multiple levels of information that I was trying to keep an eye on. It had only to last 1 hour. This is not a suggestion, it is just that I needed to leave and pick up Chas. Was this borrowed recorder working, a red flashing light told me that. Have I made suitable notes, have I got the issues I want to bring up again. More onto of this, 'What has he just said? What did I just say? Was that interesting? Are we off the topic? Did I miss something there? Did I just say that? Why did I just say that? What did he just say?". It was hard but execrating work. And then I walked the 3.7miles back to the station, listening to the tape again, smiling.
I did things wrong, I missed moments and talked over him 3 or 4 times. But I was on a tight control and he would never has stopped. I took it that there were time when he was more open, almost needing a new topic as he was getting board with the last one. But he would not have stopped, just needed to know that this is what I wanted. He talked alot, and that made things very easy. But it is in itself not necessarily useful or of higher quality. But there were other times when all I did was smile and nod and he continued.
I really enjoyed today. I am floating on the waves of it, the thought of it. The road that I have started on.
