Technical crew (with Tshirts); Marietta biscuits and Lincoln Creams (also Bourbon Creams and other chocolate things); smoked glass; institutional carpets; plastic clip name tags; the reading of scripted, and sometimes poorly prepared papers; Times New Roman; office blinds; exhausting/ exhausted building. Overall, maybe not what I expected a utopian studies conference to look like, which was a bit silly of me.

There were however two individuals who caught my eye: an older gentleman who pursued his needlepoint patiently, and with good progress, through every seminar I attended with him; and a boy, maybe not quite a teenager, who stayed close by his academic father’s side, a newish Huxley clutched in his hand.

It seems utopianism is a thing to be played close to the chest – maybe it is at large within the population to a greater degree than I suspected.

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