Aspiring to be a ‘Jolly Good Fellow’

Week 2. My second visit to St Andrews this autumn literally flew by. I borrowed AND returned a book from the library; continued my literature search; finished reading a fascinating series of letters in a journal; had myself a library induction (setting a good example, since I’m always urging newcomers to attend their library induction!); and met some members of the Institute of Scottish Historical Research for lunch.

If in doubt, ask!

This last was the challenging bit. How do you identify a historian? They don’t have obvious ‘tools of the trade’ like musicians or artists. I hovered outside the hostelry, peeped in and couldn’t decide who was a historian, and finally solved the problem by asking at the bar! The bartender seemed to find this an entirely reasonable question, thankfully.

Image by 1195798 from Pixabay

My New Favourite Journal

Victorian classroom, children seated around piano.

Pursuing one particular aspect of my recent research that fascinated me, I’ve turned up a number of useful references that I now need to sift through. I’ll still be working on this task in St Andrews this week.

History AND Music AND Education AND Scottish

The literature search has certainly had its challenges. Searching on History AND Music AND Education AND Scottish, just won’t cut it in this situation!

In one chapter of the book I’ve just finished writing, I’ve written about Scottish music publishers and some of the materials they produced for Scottish music education. Now, I need to move on beyond my book: I want to know how much their resources were used or disseminated beyond Scotland, and I want to catch the pedagogues talking about them! The tricky part of this search is in ensuring I get a historical perspective – I’m not looking at how the history of music is taught today, but a particular aspect of the history of teaching music.

One journal in particular wasn’t an obvious resource when my main focus was on Scottish music publishers. However, now I’m thinking even more deeply about their educational materials, I’ve just found a journal that looks distinctly promising:-

And I’m also going to be combing some resources on English music education, in the hope that some Scottish resources or pedagogues get at least a passing mention. If they’ve been mentioned, then I don’t need to reinvent the wheel. If not, then I have a blank canvas, and that in itself is exciting.

A Fellow’s First Steps

I like to think I made an exemplary start!

I’ve activated my email and library account. I’ve made contact with the library, and I’ve called up a book to be fetched for next week. I’ve also started a literature search for the topic I’m hoping to explore. Half of me considers it unlikely that the general topic hasn’t been covered, and the other half thinks it’s highly unlikely that my specific niche has been written about! If I can research and write an article during this Fellowship, I’ll have a significant output that will have drawn on St Andrews’ admirable library resources.

And of course, I don’t yet know what/how much will need revising in my book! That could be another major task for this autumn.

So far, so good. I have also achieved another personal goal. I wanted to see the sea at lunchtime. I did that, too!

Lunchtime Wandering
En route from the Castle
Outdoor Coffee Break
A rare sight! (New email account)

Articulating Your Research

I’m currently reading a new book in the Routledge Insider Guides to Success in Academia series:

Be Visible or Vanish: Engage, Influence and Ensure your Research has Impact (Routledge, 2023)

The authors are Inger Mewburn and Simon Clews; since I’ve followed Inger’s work for a number of years, I knew it would be good, and I got it for RCS Library recently.

It’s an approachable guide, and the kind of book you can tuck into a bag or pocket to read at free moments during the day. This morning as I drank my pre-work latte, I was reading the chapter on making academic small-talk, and being ready with an answer to the inevitable question:-

So, what is your research about?

(A reasonable question in any situation!)

It particularly resonated for me this morning, because I take up my honorary Ketelbey Fellowship at St Andrews tomorrow. Not only that, but a family member had been asking me the same question last night! What are you studying there? Why there? How are you going to benefit from the experience? It wasn’t intended as preparation for the sort of questions I should be anticipating, but I nonetheless took it as a prompt to think carefully about how I shall be introducing myself when I meet new colleagues!

I’ve also heard this described as an ‘elevator pitch’ – though in my case, I would need the elevator to travel more than one floor! As I’ve said before, the title of my recently-submitted book doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue. However, it outlines what my research has been about in recent years so I have to be able to trot it out.

  • A social history (yes, that describes it well)
  • of amateur music-making (make no mistake, that’s what we’re talking about – it’s not generally about serious, cutting-edge classical music)
  • and Scottish national identity (this is such a big deal, that it’s inextricably interwoven throughout the whole book)
  • [And then there’s the subtitle!] : Scotland’s printed music, 1880-1951 (I’ve been looking at the output of Scottish publishers during this era, which proved much more interesting than even I had ever imagined. When I got to 1951, I got to fever-pitch excitement. You’ll have to wait for the book to find out why!)

But, back to the questions of last night. I’ll be revising the book when it returns from the reviewer(s). I’ll also be investigating a particular aspect of my research that still merits even deeper investigation. I’ll be exploring a bigger, richer library collection than I usually have access to, and I look forward to engaging with a lot of different research scholars, hopefully gaining fresh ideas and maybe ideas for new directions or collaborations.

Most of all, I’ll be settling into my academic role – yes, I know, I’m a seconded researcher back in my home institution, but it’s new for me to be a Fellow for a few months – and I’ll be thinking about my future ‘second career’ as a researcher once I retire from music librarianship next summer.

Now, where was I with Be Visible or Vanish …?

A Partial Pecha-Kucha: the Librarian-Researcher

When my line-manager suggested I could give colleagues an update on my current projects and plans, I must confess I freaked out a little bit. Everyone else was talking about things happening in our library. I worried that ‘What Karen gets up to when she’s not being a librarian’ might come across as a boast-fest. It wasn’t about library news and developments, or services, or anything like that. I don’t research librarianship – I research music. My ‘research family’ are interested, but there’s no reason why anyone else should be! I tried to be absolutely factual, and to demonstrate how I chose my research subject because I wanted to study something relevant to students on one of the degree courses at the Conservatoire. I wanted it to be useful.

I was once told people’s attention begins to wander after 20 minutes – so I allowed myself about five minutes – three quarters of a Pecha Kucha presentation.  Hopefully, that wouldn’t be too long?

First I had to explain my interest in research. I shared that, back in 2004, I decided to fund myself to study for a PhD, in my spare time.  (I had never finished the one I had once studied for in Exeter before I even trained to be a librarian. Believe me, it wouldn’t have been useful in the workplace. Cantus firmus treatment in fifteenth century English polyphony? Definitely only for mediaeval enthusiasts! I had started writing that first thesis, but think I lost interest partly for that very reason.) To keep myself interested, the new PhD topic had to be relevant to RCS, and my circumstances (a full-time working mum with three primary-school aged sons) meant the university had to be local.  That’s how I ended up researching Scottish music at Glasgow Uni. I hoped the knowledge gained would be useful.

Next, I described how the Scottish song-collectors that I researched for my PhD, lived a long time ago, and even my subsequent research projects stopped when Queen Victoria was young. This meant that whenever I was asked to talk to our trad music students, I found that I had less to say about the 20th century Scottish song-books in our collection. However, I didn’t want to leave the impression that nothing much happened between 1920 and the second half of the 20th century.  (The teaching staff cover the recent history, so that didn’t concern me much!)

I explained that, having done the PhD and a couple of research projects, I decided I wanted to write another book, to fill in the gap I’d identified.  I approached my publisher again.

A Social History of Amateur Music-Making and Scottish National Identity: Scotland’s Printed Music, 1880-1951

Naturally enough, I suggested a title at that point.  But in the end, my publisher chose a better title for me – this one – when I signed the contract.  It says exactly what it ought to say, but it’s a bit long! However, the book is about amateur music-making, because that’s what Scottish music publishers published – and it is about national identity, because they published so many Scottish songbooks!  A long, accurate title can only be a good thing. Without a word of a lie, if anyone asks why the library has so many Scottish song-books, the answer is that it’s because they reflect different interpretations of national identity over a couple of hundred years. And my book will hopefully back this up!

My narrative began in 1880, because that’s where my first book stopped.  I decided the book would finish in 1951.  As well as some significant events that year, it marked when television came to Scotland.  That was one topic too many; and my music publishers were dying out anyway!

I described what the book is about. It begins by focusing on two Glasgow publishers (I may have mentioned the occasional woman publisher or RCS woman piano teacher … )

Then I wrote about dance music – I may also have mentioned racism in Victorian music – and I wrote about books of songs for children. I wrote about Scottish songbooks costing a lot – and very little.

I wrote about educational music published by the Scottish music publishers, and I wrote about the publishers’ efforts to get Scottish music to expats who had emigrated. 

Although I never intended to write about recording music or broadcasting it on the radio, the publishing and recording and broadcasting all seemed to be connected in different ways, so … I covered that too.

And then when I’d done all that, I decided to write about why Scottish music publishers didn’t publish classical music. 

My book has been sent to the publisher; there will be reviewing and editing and indexing before it’s ready to actually be published. I’m waiting to hear if the reviewer liked it, right now. Nail-biting times!

Hoping that my audience weren’t getting tired of the sound of my voice, I also mentioned that I’m about to take up a temporary honorary research fellowship at the University of St Andrews, in the School of History, from September to December.  It’s the first Ketelbey Fellowship, named after the first woman history lecturer in St Andrews.  Doris’s brother was an English composer – we have some of his music. I’ll be in St Andrews on Wednesdays and Thursdays, but still working back in RCS Whittaker Library the rest of the week. I anticipate editing the book, doing some more research, getting to know other scholars in the department, and I’ve been invited to give a couple of lectures – one in History and one in the Music department.

Next summer, I’ll be retiring from the library, but I hope I’ll still be a part-time researcher at RCS.  If anyone else needs a part-time researcher, do get in touch – I couldn’t stand a retirement filled with daytime TV!  I freely admit – I’m the librarian that is utterly sick of cataloguing, but loves doing research. An embarrassing oddity? Can’t be helped. Ideally, I’d like my book to have been published by the time I retire from librarianship, but who knows?  Meanwhile, the fellowship gives me the opportunity to build up the research side of my profile.

I didn’t want to be boastful – I hope it didn’t come across that way! But at the same time, I didn’t want to sell myself short, and I didn’t want to be apologetic for being who I am. I hope I succeeded!

Tracking down the Editor

I had never 100% identified an editor of a particular songbook, despite extensive efforts. I had his name and an address, not much more.  I decided to have a final attempt at tracing him, and planned a wee trip to the archives. SURELY I’d find him there!

And I did. But still nothing to pin him down.  It was a very common name.

I did rule out someone else’s theory. Their chap died when mine was clearly alive and active.

Anyway, I came home from the archives to have another go at tracking him down.

I may now also have ruled out one of my alternative theories, sadly.  There was a likely tenor soloist, with the right name, consistently linked with a Fifeshire village.  For a year or more, it has been my best guess. A singer might well involve himself in collecting songs.

Last night brought success in tracing the singer, but not success in  proving him to be my editor! A common name and the right kind of occupation are insufficient to go on, especially when singing might not have been his day-job. I found a daughter’s wedding. Right village, right name,  deceased father.

I found her parents. Wedding,  census, Dad’s funeral all at the same village address. Parents both apparently sang in the same concert in the right town, as young adults, some years before they married. Looking good, I’d say. I even found the singer performing with the man who collaborated with the editor on an earlier publication.

But there are two problems.

Does a Fife fisherman – in 1910, 1911, 1921 and a retired fisherman when he died – edit a songbook jointly with a famous composer? That may be a somewhat subjective question.

But the bottom line is that I can’t connect the village fisherman, with the man at the Edinburgh address.

Hmm!

Not to worry. I have another line of enquiry, as it happens … another place, another guy with the same common name…

Report of Conference: Reading and Book Circulation, 1600-1800

(Libraries, Lives and Legacies Festival of Research), University of Stirling, 17-18 April 2023

I wrote a report for the conference that I attended in April this year, thanks to an LIHG Bursary. This report has just been published in the latest LIHG Newsletter for Summer 2023 , Series 3, no. 53 (ISSN 1744-3180), pp.7-10.

I thought I’d share excerpts of the report here, too.

The conference resonated strongly with the research topic of my 2017-18 AHRC Networking Grant, Claimed from Stationers’ Hall, when we were investigating surviving music in the British Legal Deposit libraries of the Georgian era.  Although my network was interested in books rather than music, I had immersed myself in the Georgian borrowing records of St Andrews University Library, and had taken a particular interest in the music borrowing habits of women of that era, so the opportunity to hear more about what people borrowed apart from music was irresistible. 

On the subject of borrowing records, the opening introduction to the ‘Books and Borrowing 1750-1830 project’ and demonstration of the digital resource by Katie Halsey, Matthew Sangster, Kit Baston, and Maxine Branagh-Miscampbell was fascinating, offering so much data for investigation.

The following panel on Reading Practices in Non-Institutional Spaces was just as interesting, with Tim Pye’s ‘Had, Lent; Returned: Borrowing from the Country House Library’, along with Abigail Williams speaking about non-elite book use in rural settings, and Melanie Bigold’s paper about women’s book legacies. Whilst my own interest has been in formal library borrowing, ‘my’ borrowers took music away for their leisure-time enjoyment, and these papers served as a reminder that musicians were probably just as likely to have borrowed music outwith the more regulated library environment. Similarly, the concept of the Sammelband is very familiar to me – that was how libraries kept their legal deposit music. Sam Bailey invented a useful new verb, ‘Sammelbanding’, during the course of their talk on ‘The Reading and Circulation of Erotic Books in Coffee House Libraries’ – a topic far removed from my own research.

Kelsey Jackson Williams’ hands-on session with books from the Leighton Library, in an exhibition curated by Jacqueline Kennard, was the perfect after-lunch session, offering the chance both to stretch one’s legs on the way there, and to inspect some rare selections from the Leighton.

Parallel sessions meant tough choices, but I opted to hear Angela Esterhammer talk about John Galt’s various publishing ventures – an intriguing history – followed by Cleo O’Callaghan Yeoman’s ‘Still my ardent sensibility led me back to novels’.  (I reflected that St Andrews’ first music cataloguer, Miss Elizabeth Lambert, had read a wide variety of books, and whilst her reading included travel accounts, religious books, and books on botany and conchology, she certainly wasn’t averse to reading a good novel, too.)  Next came Amy Solomon talking about Anne Lister’s considerable book collection at Shibden Hall, and how she had made an inherited collection her own, as well as keeping commonplace books, diaries, and reading journals. I regret having missed seeing the films about her diaries, and the two more recent ‘Gentleman Jack’ series on the television.

The first keynote paper was given by Deidre Lynch, on ‘The Social Lives of Scraps: Shearing, Sharing, Scavenging, Gleaning’.  I am sure I was not the only delegate pondering as to whether any of my own ‘scraps’ would survive to intrigue future readers, but more importantly, Deidre’s paper reminded us that proper ‘books’ are only a small proportion of the vast amount of printed material still surviving, often against the odds and far from their original context. 

On the second day, the opening plenary roundtable chaired by Jill Dye addressed borrowers’ records across Scotland, and I heard from several people with whom I was already acquainted, three of them through my own AHRC Networking project. 

We heard about the library of Innerpeffray, the National Library of Scotland, and Edinburgh, Glasgow and St Andrews’ University Libraries. I was interested to hear about the bigger picture, so that I could place my own special interests into the wider context.

For the third panel, I opted for the panel on Readers, Libraries and Loss.  Jessica Purdy gave a fascinating talk on ‘Libraries of Lost Books?’, speaking about chained church libraries, and the fact that their tight security and still pristine condition suggest that the books might as well have been ‘lost’ as far as most of the local residents were concerned.  Elise Watson, too, made us reflect upon just how many publications of Catholic devotional material had been published, even if they were so ephemeral that there are now ‘”Black Holes” of Ephemeral Catholic Print.’

For the fourth panel, I attended the panel on ‘Education’, hearing Maxine Branagh-Miscampbell talking about the Grindlay bequest and ‘Childhood Reading Practices at the Royal High School, Edinburgh’.  The Grindlay bequest was valued sufficiently that it was all added to stock, even though some material was never going to interest young or teenage boys.  Mary Fairclough gave an interesting talk on ‘Barbauld’s An Address to the Deity and Reading Aloud’.  I have recently encountered Victorian publishers appropriating evangelical hymns for magic lantern shows, but had not considered that poetry might also be ‘trimmed down’ and repurposed.

Duncan Frost’s paper did have a musical subject: ‘Bird Books: Advertising, Consumption and Readers of Songbird Training Manuals’.  Who would have thought that so many books were written about catching and training songbirds to sing in captivity?!  The most intriguing aspect of this genre of books was in fact that, despite many pages dedicated to all aspects of caring for and training your bird, there was significantly little information about the kind of tunes that you might want to teach it.

The second and closing keynote lecture was delivered by Andrew Pettegree, on ‘The Universal Short Title Catalogue: Big Data and its Perils’.  Professor Pettegree was at pains to underline not only what the USTC had achieved, but also its shortcomings, or rather, what it was not.  We were also reminded of some aspects that I have encountered in my own work: that books in libraries were not the only copies of these titles; they would have existed plentifully outside libraries, and so might other books which we can now only trace by, for example, publisher’s catalogues and advertisements. Moreover, library catalogues can conceal different editions, or show duplicate entries, depending on minor differences in cataloguing approaches.

Since my own networking grant, I have had to reflect upon the benefits of the work, and the impact the research has had.  One of the outcomes that I identified then, was that library history research created effectively a ‘third space’ where librarians and academic scholars – and those like myself, straddling both library and research worlds – could meet and beneficially share our insights and learning.  I realise that at this recent conference I had experienced exactly the same kind of meeting of minds again. Similarities of approach and a common interest in library and book history meant that I felt I had an underlying understanding enabling me to benefit from their fresh insights.

I am grateful to the Library and Information History Group for enabling me to attend this wonderful and thought-provoking conference.  Besides having such a rich array of papers to listen to, I certainly did benefit from the opportunities to talk to other delegates.  It was a treat to be able to take two days out of normal routine in such a beautiful setting, giving plenty of food for thought for the future.

Image: Image by G.C. from Pixabay

Two Worlds Meet

News of a potentially interesting archival item triggers an attack of insatiable curiosity. I must confess that the musicologist is somewhat more triggered than the custodian!

So, I have a few questions that need answered. Where and when was the original owner born? When did they leave Scotland? What did their Scottish ancestry/identity mean to them?

And most importantly, was ‘Scottish’ music a significant part of their repertoire?

As I mentioned in earlier posts, my librarianship is amply qualified, and embodies four decades of expertise, but musicology and research came first. The musicologist is buried beneath the outer librarian, and can’t help bubbling to the surface when an intriguing possibility presents itself!

If I can answer these initial questions satisfactorily, then I’ll want to explore further. I think you can guess what I need to do this morning!

AND LATER …

Well, the original owner called themselves Scottish. But they were born in England of a Scottish mother. Should I order their birth certificate? It’s not cheap, and could arrive too late to be useful. But … !

58 Weeks to Go – How is This Meant to Feel?

Goalposts

The government moved the goalposts – when I started work, I imagined I’d have retired by now.  Instead, I’ve worked an extra five years, with one more to go. I shall hit 66 in summer 2024.  I don’t want to retire entirely, but I must confess I’m utterly bored with cataloguing music! (Except when it turns out to be a weird little thing in a donation, perhaps shining a light on music education in earlier times, or repertoire changes, or the organisation behind its publication – or making me wonder about the original owner and how they used it … but then, that’s my researcher mentality kicking in, isn’t it?!)

Status Quo: Stability and Stagnation

Everyone knows I’m somewhat tired of being a librarian.  Everyone knows that my heart has always been in research.  Librarianship seemed a good idea when I embarked upon it, and it enabled me to continue working in music, which has always been my driving force.  But the downside of stability – and I’d be the first to say that it has been welcome for me as a working mother – has been the feeling of stagnation.  No challenges, no career advancement, no extra responsibility.  Climbing the ladder?  There was no ladder to climb, not even a wee kickstep!  (I did the qualification, Chartership, Fellowship, Revalidation stuff. I even did a PhD and a PG Teaching Cert, but I never ascended a single rung of the ladder.)

In my research existence, I get a thrill out of writing an article or delivering a paper, of making a new discovery or sorting a whole load of facts into order so that they tell a story. I love putting words on a page, carefully rearranging them until they say exactly what I want them to say. I’m good at it. But as a librarian, I cannot say I’m thrilled to realise that I’ve now catalogued 1700 of a consignment of jazz CDs, mostly in the same half-dozen or so series of digital remasters.  (I’d like to think they’ll get used, but even Canute had to realise that he couldn’t keep back the tide.  CDs are old technology.)

The Paranoia of Age

But what really puzzles me is this: when it comes to the closing years of our careers, is it other people who perceive us as old? Is age something that other people observe in us?  Do people regard us as old and outdated because they know we’re close to retirement age? 

Cognitive Reframing (I learnt a psychology term!)

Cognitive reframing? It’s a term used by psychologists and counsellors to encourage someone to step outside their usual way of looking at a problem, and to ask themselves if there’s a different way of looking at it.

So – in the present context – what do other people actually think? Can we read their minds? Of course not. Additionally, do our own attitudes to our ageing affect the way other people perceive us?  Do I inadvertently give the impression that I’m less capable?  Do I merely fear that folk see me as old and outdated because I know I’m approaching retirement age? A fear in my own mind rather than a belief in theirs?

How many people of my age ask themselves questions like these, I wonder?

Shopping Trolley

Am I seen as heading downhill to retirement?  Increasingly irrelevant?  Worthy only to be sidelined, like the wonky shopping-trolley that’s only useful if there’s nothing else available?

Is my knowledge considered out-of-date, or is it paranoia on my part, afraid that I might be considered out of date, no longer the first port-of-call for a reliable answer?

When I queue up for a coffee, I imagine that people around me, in their teens and early twenties, must see me as “old” like their own grandparents.  And I shudder, because I probably look hopelessly old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy.  But is this my perception, or theirs?  Maybe they don’t see me at all.  Post-menopausal women are very conscious that in some people’s eyes, they’re simply past their sell-by date.  I could spend a fortune colouring my hair, and try to dress more fashionably, but I’d still have the figure of a sedentary sexagenarian who doesn’t take much exercise and enjoys the odd bar of chocolate!  (And have you noticed, every haircut leaves your hair seeming a little bit more grey than it was before?)

Similarly, I worry whether my hearing loss (and I’m only hard of hearing, not deaf) causes a problem to other people?  Does it make me unapproachable and difficult to deal with?  I’m fearful of that.  Is it annoying to tell me things, because I might mis-hear and have to ask for them to be repeated?  Or do I just not hear, meaning that I sometimes miss information through no fault but my own inadequate ears?  Friends, if you thought the menopause was frightening, then believe me impending old age is even more so. I don’t want to be considered a liability, merely a passenger. And I know that I’m not one. But I torment myself with thoughts that I won’t really be missed, that my contribution is less vital than it used to be.

Gazing into the Future

Crystal ball
Crystal Ball Gazing

I wonder if other people at this stage would agree with me that the pandemic has had the unfortunate effect of making us feel somewhat disconnected, like looking through a telescope from the wrong end and perceiving retirement not so much a long way off, as approaching all too quickly?  The months of working at home have been like a foretaste of retirement, obviously not in the 9-5 itself (because I’ve been working hard), but in the homely lunch-at-home, cuppa-in-front-of-the telly lunchbreaks, the dashing to put laundry in before the day starts, hang it out at coffee-time, or start a casserole in the last ten minutes of my lunchbreak.  All perfectly innocuous activities, and easily fitted into breaks.  But I look ahead just over a year, and realise that I’ll have to find a way of structuring my days so that I do have projects and challenges to get on with. 

Not for me the hours of daytime TV, endless detective stories and traffic cops programmes. No, thanks!  Being in receipt of a pension need not mean abandoning all ambition and aspiration. I want my (hopeful) semi-retirement to be the start of a brand-new beginning as a scholar, not the coda at the end of a not-exactly sparkling librarianship career.  If librarianship ever sparkles very much!

I’m fortunate that I do have my research – I’m finishing the first draft of my second book, and looking forward to a visiting fellowship in the Autumn.  As I wrote in my fellowship application, I want to pivot my career from this point, so that I can devote myself entirely to being a researcher, and stop being a librarian, as soon as I hit 66.  And I want to be an employed researcher.  I admire people who carve a career as unattached, independent scholars, but I’d prefer to be attached if at all possible!

Realistically, I will probably always be remembered as the librarian who wanted to be a scholar.  At least I have the consolation of knowing that – actually – I did manage to combine the two.

First Ketelbey Fellowship at University of St Andrews

Here’s the big news I’ve been bursting to share! During Autumn 2023, I’m to be the first holder of the honorary Ketelbey research Fellowship in Late Modern History, in the University of St Andrews’ School of History. I’ll be there on Wednesdays and Thursdays for one semester, continuing to research and think about Scottish music publishers and other related topics, and enjoying the experience of being a research fellow in a very highly-rated university history department. St Andrews was rated the top UK university in the Times and Sunday Times Good University Guide last September, and the School of History came top in both the Times and Sunday Times rating, and the Guardian University Guide 2023 – so I’m dead chuffed! I’m an academic librarian and musicologist – I guess this means I can call myself halfway to being a historian, too.

The Fellowship is named after Doris Ketelbey (1896-1990), who was the first female academic in the School of History; a respected author; and had a phenomenal career for a woman of her times. Aileen Fyfe has written a blog post about her, which you can read here:-

Doris Ketelbey, 1896-1990 (in the series, ‘Women Historians of St Andrews’) by Aileen Fyfe

Interestingly, Ketelbey taught at St Leonard’s School at one point. A few years ago, I wrote a blogpost for the EAERN Network about about the very first owner of a private school in the same premises, in the early 19th century: Mrs Bertram’s Music Borrowing. But the St Leonard’s that Ketelbey taught at would have been a more sophisticated institution than Mrs Bertram’s doubtlessly estimable establishment!

– and yes, she was the sister of composer Albert Ketelbey, who wrote an enormous quantity of lighter music and songs. I bet he was proud of his determined, high-achieving sister!