Hell on earth

When doing qualitative research, it is quite well-known that the researcher becomes embedded in the world he/she seeks to describe, whereby the border between ‘research life’ and ‘private life’ is rendered problematic. In trying to get to grips with what ethics is about, I have felt this confluence acting out in many, many ways.

It is, however, nice to know that I have yet to go completely native, as witnessed in my devilish laughter this morning. Someone sent out an email to one of the ‘ethical’ mailing lists I subscribe to, looking for a couple of new housemates:

Re: Two Housemates Wanted: Green/Creative share in Cornerville*

How do you like the idea of waking up on a Sunday morning to the aromas of freshly-brewed fair-trade coffee and fried eggs crawling their way up the stairs from the kitchen, the faint sound of self-penned songs dedicated to the perils of modern living coming from downstairs, cherishing the luxurious knowledge that once you’ve struggled out of your semi-slumber you’re just a 14 minute tube ride to London’s thrumming heart?

You would be sharing with a mixture of musical, artistic and green-minded folk (aged 25-29) who offer various communal schemes – collective organic cookery, evenings out – for those who want to join in, within a cosy, laid back, TV free space.

The house itself is a lovely, spacious Victorian behemoth of a thing with a large living room, large kitchen and a back garden patio-ish thing with a regular squirrel. (and bikes, a compost heap, and struggling vegetables).

Yes, I am an evil, reactionary, sad git.

*I made up the name. Out of common decency, of course.

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  1. …says Mr. Vegetable Patch…

  2. Christian Toennesen

    …says Dr. Deklok…

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