I must admit to a mild and nagging dissatisfaction resulting from my life as an undergraduate. True to form, I went to university with wildly high expectations; I was anticipating some kind of oasis of informed debate about all sorts of interesting things, but the reality was that most people were more concerned with last night’s ’shennanigans’ in Ziggy’s nightclub than discussing divisive aspects of historiography. Naive of me to begin with such outrageously elevated hopes, I’ll admit. Meanwhile, the university itself was frequently guilty of treating its students as customers from which to make profit than as their greatest potential asset.

However, I took one module at university which did live up to my expectations, and allowed me a taste of the fervent discussion I had hoped for. This module focussed on the juicy topic of utopia. What can be more strikingly interesting than historical and philosophical reflection on the quest for an ideal society? Not much, I would argue. The debate was massively encouraged by the blog which was set up by Sarah Rees Jones, the creator of the module, for precisely that purpose – and it was to my great surprise that I received an email today asking me to take part in the 2010 version. Anybody who knows me well may well have heard me singing the praises of this course of study, and there are many reasons I remain grateful to Sarah for creating it.

A look around the room I am currently sat in (my bedroom in Cambridge), reveals a collection of William Morris patterns attached to the wall above the fireplace, and a book of his patterns on the mantlepiece itself. The bookshelves to the left are swollen with the books from the module itself, but predominantly with all of the philosophy books I have enjoyed since my appreciation for philosophy was ignited during the Utopias module. William Morris’s presence is bolstered by a battered old copy of his utopian novel News From Nowhere (amusingly priced with extra ‘war costs’ of 1/8) and a large biography of his life.

I have often reflected slightly warily on the nature of a history degree from the University of York. The experiences of some of my co-historians made them feel that the academic staff didn’t have much time for mere undergraduates, although I think these lecturers must have been in the minority. I will always be keen to assert that a couple of individuals should undoubtedly be exempt from such criticisms. Namely, my then-supervisor John Cooper (who endured some of the implications of my suffering from severe depression during my first year of university), and Sarah Rees Jones. Sarah has that rare talent for being able to respect others’ opinions even if she is inclined to disagree with them.

Sarah, with something of the humility she always displayed, seems reluctant to believe that I intended to send an email expressing my gratitude to her for creating this module in the first place. This is not surprising – so few people ever thank others for their efforts, so why would I do so two years after I studied a module which she created? The least I can do is a blog post whilst I sit back and look forward to hearing interesting new discussions.