In the hazy crazy adrenalin-fuelled ride of a world that is the Higher Education landscape of late, competition, or at the very least a sense of the competitive, has become the norm. We are internally competing as a sector on multiple fronts; there is a sense of the various mission groups of the sector (University Alliance, Russell Group, Million Plus and Guild HE) all jostling for position in a never-ending sprint – like that bit on the track just after the runners break their lane allocation- then there is the competition of the league tables, each year causing people like myself to try unsuccessfully to fathom the mystical alchemic nuances of the algorithms by which success or failure is mathematically bestowed upon a given institution – this shape-shifting hydra morphs unpredictably (some say whimsically) from season to season, dreamed up by a poor solitary soul locked in a darkened room with only maffs for company (or, alternatively it is arrived at by placing the various commonly used institutional performance indicators on a dartboard at the other end of a football pitch and, after a pint or two and a good go on a swiftly moving playground seesaw, letting the arrows decide the weightings). And then there are the Times Higher Education Awards; twice-yearly back-slapping riots (read networking events) of epic proportions at which various institutional triumphs are (rightly) celebrated and the number one risk is injury on the competitive dance floor – flailing limbs (my own included) desperate to recover remnants of a rose-tinted youth are flung precariously in all directions with no hint of a care for anything approaching conformity to rhythm, the beat of the song being played, or even a whiff of personal coordination which could be construed as vaguely ‘together’. And then alongside this bruising competition there is TEF, and REF and the NSS and DLHE and the brand new Global Teaching Excellence Award from the HEA and more 3-4 letter acronyms with more algorithms and panels sitting behind them and faster and quicker, slicker, leaner, meaner, morer…

And second place, as they say, doth butter no parsnips…. (actually, they don’t really say that…)

And yet…

And yet, all of the above; all of the planning and graft and competition and sense of phenomenal work across the institution at all levels to make positive changes to our everyday practices and lives and the direction of travel which, put together will end up actually making things better, (we’re seeing it happen as I write) – all of this work will end up eventually being reflected in the performance indicators, which will then end up being reflected in the competition results (whatever they might be…). And yet…. And yet, all of this competition, once a year, for a brief incendiary moment, pales into insignificance behind perhaps the greatest competition of them all. For the briefest of time periods, all of the above is eclipsed by a competition so savage, so brutal and so without the thinnest hint of humanity or forgiveness, it could have been born of Mordor itself. I am, of course, referring to the pinnacle of athletic prowess that is…

Salford University Sports Day 2017.


Admirably organised by @DSASevents, and fronted on this occasion by, amongst others, @rimmsie and raising a load of cash for our chosen charity of the year (@MindinSalford) it was a competition of epic proportions. The social media banter before hand contained more braggadocio and put-downs than a full performance from Sinatra and the Rat Pack and more swagger than a John Wayne box set.

The team from The Old Fire Station, including our DVC and Dean of Students, put together letters from each participant name to arrive at a well thought-out and catchy team name; WRENCH. (Surprisingly, no-one from marketing was present at this time.) T-shirts were duly printed with a wrench emblazoned on the chest, (geddit?) but this slightly-less-than-self-explanatory motif was subsequently interpreted by many onlookers to actually be a spanner, resulting in an unforeseen dip in the reputational stock of said band of crack athletes: pictorial semantics’ll getcha…

Stock clip-art interpretations aside, the event included trials to worry even the most versatile of heptathletes: basketball hoops, tug of war, space hopper relay and the ubiquitous egg and spoon race all tested previously untouched limits.

And we came third. Which is not bad. (it’s not entirely good, but y’know…) WRENCH came right behind the Students’ Union (who, understandably and rightly, have already started to gloat), who came right behind the winners; a disciplined team of academics from within Environmental Life Sciences (we are considering an appeal on the basis that they may have used performance enhancing cultures developed in the bio-med labs…)

Sadly (or fortuitously, depending on ones perspective) I actually had to live the event vicariously through the medium of twitter – I was just down the road presenting at a conference on retention. I was talking to colleagues from across the sector about some of the ways we’ve been enhancing retention at UoS along the idea of building an authentic, meaningful university community and a sense of pride and belonging in place and space.

I think I should have just asked the delegates to come and join in the egg and spoon and to soak up some of what I saw impressions of on twitter – I think that was a much more meaningful expression of belonging in action…

See you next week.


#Weare50: Place, space and belonging

The more observant amongst you may have twigged, by dint of the occasional message or several, that we (the University of Salford) are fifty this year. To mark the occasion, there is a whole host of activities and celebratory shenanigans, stretching throughout the year. These range from, stories, to days in the life entries from staff, students and alumni, to gala events, to showcases, to University Day, to creative events, to some fantastic networking meetings across the globe, which have brought together students, staff, alumni and our other partners. Granted, some of these things are part of our ‘normal’ calendar, which have been given an additional celebratory lift, but there’s also many events which are here once and gone forever, arriving and departing the way that birthdays tend to.

Although it hasn’t always been made explicit, I’ve noticed the idea of place, of us belonging somewhere in the world running through all of our celebrations. As someone who has now been at Salford for three years, (actually three years last week, dontchaknow) I was struck from my first day, and continue to be struck, at how grounded and rooted in a keen sense of its immediate environment Salford is, whilst at the same time, readily acknowledging, capitalising and drawing upon a myriad of global connections. It’s a porous place, not a house on the hill, or an ivory tower of old – it’s a place in conversation with itself and its immediate community and context. And what is a university if not its people? Sure, this sense of place, space and belonging is partly contained within the buildings, but even these are changing – the campus landscape has shifted beyond previous recognition even in the short time I’ve been here – no, its much more a felt sense; perhaps something which can’t adequately be captured in words, but is a shared sense, resting in the hive-mind of our staff and students, a resonance that some how one keys into and recognises as a place where one belongs.

One beautiful, and unexpected, instance of this came recently when I was fortunate enough to attend a book launch in our theatre space in our New Adelphi building. The book is called The City Of: A Salford Collection. It’s a retrospective on 50 years of life in Salford City; a collection of poetry and photographs and personal accounts and stories from Salford residents, staff and students. There’s even a brand new poem in there from our Chancellor Jackie Kay  (I’m looking forward to sharing Graduation with Jackie later in the year).

The book launch started with a presentation of a devised piece of theatre from our undergraduate performing arts students – about 50 of them (coincidence?) by my reckoning. This performance dramatised the developments of the last 50 years, picking out landmark events and translating them through a local echo. There was movement and music and dance and words all coming together in beautifully colourful ensemble action. What was striking however, was the cultural resonances the performers managed to hit. On a couple of moments all the elements of performance and the subject matter met perfectly with my own recollections of the times being dramatised and I was left thinking; how can minds and hearts and bodies who were not even born in the years they were conveying, capture something beyond their years so accurately; resonances of place and space lifting all to become more than the sum of their parts, like they were carrying powerful echoes of something they could only be aware of second hand. Fantastic to see…

And then it continued inside the theatre. And the book was duly launched in a crowd of people including staff and students and members of our local community. And then came the surprising bit: I was presented with the first copy of the first imprint of a brand new text. Wow. As an academic I count books amongst my most treasured of possessions. Folks, this one is sitting right up there at the top of the pile; a wholly unexpected and generous gift.

And, as I’m writing this now, leafing through the pages of the book, and thinking of the community inside the theatre, and thinking of our students’ performance and thinking of that tangible sense of reflection coupled with an idea of arriving that inevitably accompanies a landmark birthday year, there’s the clear chords of a shared endeavour and a understanding of place; a sense of grounded belonging ringing out loud and clear. And above everything, a real sense of pride in what we’ve done, what we’re doing, and where we’re going to go. Affirmation and excitement, certainty and uncertainty all in one go. Not bad at all.



See you next week.

Bit by Bit…

In my head I sometimes fancifully imagine what ‘having arrived’ will look/ feel like. What I mean by this is having a sense of the final impact of success. The sense, although not attached to any particular circumstance or picture, is, I suppose, quite filmic – one could place any number of descriptive metaphors against the feeling; the idea of a finishing line being crossed, a pinnacle being reached, a door finally swinging open… And beyond this threshold? An idea of arrival, of finality, of a job being completed – a sense of there being no track left upon which to run further; a sense of having arrived.

Of course, that’s;

  1. All in my head (which is, from experience, not always a good thing)
  2. Decidedly Hollywood-esque, simple and overly convenient in its linear narrative construction
  3. Not in any way representative of what actually happens

Real life just isn’t that definite or that straightforward is it? It’s far more complex. In my experience, the sense of arrival, or success, is momentary and fleeting if that; it passes by in the blink of an eye, if indeed it is there at all.

In my spare time (hahaha) a guilty pleasure (one of many folks, one of many) is video games. As anyone of a similar disposition will know, the success of completing a level, or a section, or even the entire game, is always a bit ho-hum. The real joy is to be found in the problem solving wrestle of ones personal navigation of the game and the means by which incremental success is achieved and cemented as a stepping stone to the next challenge. Several years after first picking up the game, I’m still finding new things to do in the vast and beautifully layered landscape that is Skyrim – all of these rely on me ensuring my avatar continually acquires increasingly advanced skills and abilities.

Relatedly (it will become clear in a minute or two – stay with me folks) I went for a run this weekend – not an isolated incident you’ll be pleased to know – you can put the blankets away – I tend to run 3-4 times a week. As the clocks have now hit summer settings and the evenings begin to stretch, it’s that time of year when I look forward to a season of Tough Mudder runs and various other outdoor adventures which involve a certain level of stamina. (It’s all part of a longer journey which will hopefully see me complete an Iron Man Challenge in a year/ couple of years). My general routine is to (very) slowly increase the mileage and the incline/ terrain difficulty through Spring so that by the time I hit Mudder season (this year its in about a month or so – I’ll being doing two consecutive runs on the 5th and 6th of May) I’m comfortably running 12 or so miles across country. This weekend I did about 9 miles in the Goyt Valley with my canine partner in crime Willowpants the Brave (see photos of said doggie in this blog entry) Next week it’ll be 10 miles and so on… Incremental gain, bit by bit. There’s always a brief moment of reflection after a run; what worked, what didn’t, and then this learning is put to use the next time my feet hit the hills. This week I learned that a small glass of water and a banana an hour before running is fine. A small glass of water and a banana 15 minutes before running leads to an uncomfortable first couple of miles and an interesting body breath relationship on the incline….

More gains – this time at work. The nattily and succinctly titled annual Times Higher Education Student Experience Survey came out recently and I’m delighted that, thanks to the collective efforts of staff across the university, we’ve gone up 19 places, to now sit smack bang in the middle of the league table. And what is this down to? Alongside some of the bigger changes we’ve been making (for example, changes to our physical campus) it’s achieved through the collective power of incremental gain. Matthew Syed references this in his reflections in his book Black Box Thinking on the performance of the GB cycling team  at the latest Olympics (amongst other reference points). Phenomenal success was achieved through a consistent, persistent pursuit of improvement through collective incremental gains. So it is at Salford; whilst there are always the slower moving big-ticket items, success is achieved through a myriad of tiny, increasingly rigorously focused steps, reflections and improvements, each one of which by itself would amount to very little. But when experienced collectively by our students, a tangibly more positive difference is felt in the overall encounter – one aspect that tells us we are succeeding.

So, to return to the notion of success/ arrival opened up at the start of this entry, and with my PVC Student Experience hat firmly set on head, does this make me feel as though we’ve succeeded? Is there that sense of finishing line being crossed? Of course not. Success is not about having arrived (does one ever?). It’s about intelligent increments, moving forward step by step (this doesn’t mean slowly by the way) and, in a complex, shifting and dynamic environment, being in a good position to grasp the next rung of the ladder. In this vein, a convenient point/door/finishing post (as much as I sometimes wish for one…) is just not good enough. I think we’re/ I’m actually in pursuit of a temporal, attitudinal, habitually practiced stance. On a personal level, its simply intelligently pushing/ demanding myself to up the ante. On an institutional level, its an expectation of a systematically embedded high performance culture.

We’re/ I’m getting there. Bit by bit.

See you next week.

Expansions and contractions in Ramallah

So I’ve been in Ramallah this week. It’s been brilliant, hectic fun in which rehearsed flexibility has been key. I’ve been here with the British Council, on the first visit of a programme which seeks to develop and embed entrepreneurial and intrapreneurial thinking into the practice of Palestinian universities, such that the graduates of these universities could then operate with entre/ intrapreneurial mindsets and capabilities. It’s a really interesting programme and has stemmed from my visit to Bethlehem and Ramallah in May last year – I blogged about it here.

What was an initial visit to present a paper I co-authored with Helen Marshall, our Vice Chancellor has, by means of a couple of workshops and many conversations with the British Council, turned into a genuinely exciting programme of work, in which projects aligned to the endeavour of developing entrepreneurial and intrapreneurial teaching and learning are being shaped by an inter-institutional team from the UK. This last point in itself is exciting – its great to be collaborating with colleagues from other universities – its particularly rewarding since we’re all from the same mission group (University Alliance); the development of resilient graduates through distinctive real world learning is, I think, part of the special character of our mission group – its certainly there in bundles at Salford.

Anyhow, on this visit we’ve been working with colleagues from seven Palestinian universities to kick off their projects and position our full programme as a large piece of action-research in itself – watch this space for further details on that front…

However, whilst the formal content of the three full days we’ve been here has been fun at full tilt in itself, I actually want to pull out a brief moment outside those workshoppy spaces and places; it came after the first day of workshops, on the evening of our second day here…

It’s the first time I’ve worked with Dr Joan Lockyer from Coventry University, and Dr Gillian Jack (or amusingly, and pleasingly briefly, Dr Jack Gillian, as the first version of her airline ticket read – cue 15 minutes of being exceptionally nice to lovely BA staff at stupid o clock in the morning) from the University of South Wales. We’ve all reflected on how well and how quickly we have meshed as a team – in early instances of team teaching I have found it a rarity to be comfortable enough with material and unfamiliar colleagues to be able to happily ditch well-laid plans and the rosy cosy comfort blanket of rehearsed text, and play, improvise and shift things around as the need arises. However, we’ve done just this, and the outcome has been all the more robust for doing so.

Anyway, at the end of the first day of workshops, there was a palpable and shared sense of ‘that went pretty well – we’re onto something here – I think its going to be a good outcome’ between us. A slightly tentative breath out, but not all the way, not just yet. Given that we’d been indoors all day, and were riding on the kind of high one has when walking into sunshine after a concentrated indoor task, we decided to take a walk up the road from the hotel and into the winding Ramallah streets and the Souk.

It was an ambling walk during a hazy dusk, wandering where the pathways took us, round countless street vendors selling corn, and spices and sandals and strawberries – mountains of strawberries, and sneakers and hot tea and coffee and strange vegetables stacked house high on carts and boxes and all of this visual and olfactory feast was cloaked in a cacophony of car horns, and shouted wares and unfamiliar music and chatter and in the background, the droning song-speak of mosques as the call to prayer floated out chants and guiding hands called a hundred thousand times over; incantations which grounded the whole scene in a tradition which blended with the thump from stereo speakers in the street.

Here’s a little video which captures some of it…

You can see a full slide show of the trundle here.

Afterwards, we had dinner in our hotel and then put the world to rights over a glass of wine (that last bit implies the singular, rather than the plural – I’d be sandpapering actual truths into a more respectable form if I let that stand; there was wine and it was definitely in more than one glass.)

The conversation between Gill, Joan and myself was broad, deep and thoroughly enjoyable, seamlessly flowing (like said beverages) across subjects as diverse as Kantian thinking, hermeneutics, phenomenology, to politics, to genetics and inter generational genetic memory, to solipsism, deterministic thinking, to embodied knowing and consciousness, to play theory and social constructivism, to soft networks and organisational structures. Sadly, we didn’t manage to get to the X-factor, but there’s a limit, y’know? We did, over several scribbled napkins, also capture the essence of an idea about a potential shared venture of a book – even managing to arrive, after some time, at a working structure and tasks forward.

It was very good wine.

My reflection on all of this – the intense day, the seemingly aimless wandering (which was just as much about being mentally led by the sights and sounds of the souk, as the physical activity of the pootle) and the highly enjoyable and, as it turns out, productive conversation over dinner, is that, I don’t think the remarkable dinner conversation could have happened with out the contraction of the day, and then the release of the walk – both episodes contributed to the final chapter of the day and were foundational in its architecture. Again, similarly to my post last week, it’s partially about a subjective experience of time – contractions and expansions giving rise to different body-mind states, each of which offers opportunity. Another reminder to myself to recognise, search out and nurture the gifts which are always, always there.

Finally, this blog entry actually has multiple purposes – firstly, it’s a piece of personal reflective writing on experience which is to be shared with our Palestinian colleagues – to those readers – I hope its useful. And secondly, this is my documentation of my day for the 365 days of experience being captured at the University of Salford as part of the story of our 50th year. It’s not been a bad day at all…

See you next week.

Shameless Plugging: Waiting Room

I have a friend called Dave. He is a playwright. A little while ago I had the seed of an idea for a play, but unlike Dave, I lack the requisite skills in the creative structured translation of thought to page. So, having wanted to collaborate with each other for a while on a creative project, together we mulled over the emerging essence of the idea on a long walk around the Goyt Valley early in 2016. I do find that after about two hours on a walk, my mind really gets to work on the knotty problem of the day, sometimes without my knowing. I’m sure it has something to do with the space, and the quiet padding of forwards motion – personal horizons, literal and perceptual are expanded. I’ve reflected upon this in a previous post, bringing Czikszentmihalyi’s notion of optimal experience, known as flow, into the discussion….

Anyway, digressions, digressions. The result of the walk and then Dave’s talent at translating and expanding upon our joint, amble-centric thinking was a brand new piece of writing: Waiting Room. For reasons which will shortly become apparent, I won’t go into too much detail about the play here and now. However, in the manner of what is hopefully a tempting teaser (again for reasons which will shortly become apparent – stay with me folks) I can tell you that the play is a monologue and is set on a train platform. The circumstances of the central character – Thomas, are frighteningly similar to some of my own personal details. And that’s all you’re getting for now. Unfair? Yes. Necessary? Of course – nothing is done without reason…

So, the Waiting Room was, with a shockingly small rehearsal period (2 days in my dining room), then taken to the Buxton Fringe in 2016. (incidentally, its apparently the 3rd largest Fringe in the UK after Edinburgh and Brighton) The piece was premiered for a short run in a lovely little performance space in the top room of the Green Man Gallery and played to sold-out houses (very small houses – maisonettes, really) on each performance. And, despite my occasional departures from the exact words of the script, (causing Dave to have kittens as he was operating the sound) it went well; 5 star reviews; yours truly was nominated in the Fringe awards for Best Actor, and the piece itself won Best Theatre Production. Which was nice, because Dave and I were just testing it out. You can see a review from the 2016 Buxton Fringe performances here.

So then we thought about putting it on again, just to see if the friendly Buxton audience were simply being nice. (Buxton is a nice place). We took it for two nights to the Kings Arms at Salford – a fantastically active and welcoming fringe venue (with good ale, which is always a bonus). Again, a good reception and some more positive reviews. I actually stuck to the script most of the time (Dave no longer had kittens midway through the performance) and said efforts were rewarded; a nomination for Best Performer in a Fringe Show in the 2017 Manchester Theatre Awards. I have to go to Home in March for a spangly do. I expect there may be canapés and fizzy stuff. I’m genuinely chuffed.

But wait, there’s yet more, folks; the piece has been a welcome opportunity for me to get back to performance and to practice as research. After I finished the PhD (2014) the thought of writing, or researching anything was a feeling akin to having nails dragged down a blackboard, or being tied to a chair and being made to watch the Sound of Music twice; essentially unpalatable. However, after a couple of obligatory articles/ pieces from my PhD, this work has facilitated a return to research. It’s been such fun. And here comes the reason for the prior holding back of detail – Waiting Room is now scheduled for a single night of performance at the University of Salford’s very own New Adelphi Theatre on March 2nd 2017. Yippee and Hurrah.

This performance will be the icing on the cake for me. It’s the proverbial icing for several reasons; it allows me, as a senior leader of the university, to present my research as practice to colleagues and students and do so in a manner that runs the risk of me going wrong in public – keeping me on my toes (no pressure Sam – even though at the time of writing it’s a month away, the sense of personal/ reputational risk is already a palpable presence in my stomach when I think about it). It also allows me to share a different side of my working practice with interested parties at our university, and finally and best of all, I get to a chance to personally contribute to embedding research within student learning journeys – something I’m wanting academic colleagues to routinely do as part of our ‘ICZ ready’ curriculum; In the case of Waiting Room there’s a post show talk for students, and the performance has been woven into the curriculum diet of some undergraduate performance programmes as well as having given rise to a small number of live briefs.

After this, I’ll be working with students to turn it into a radio play and a film, (more live briefs) then there’s a bit of research which, bouncing off themes explored in my PhD, reflects on the nature of optimal states of being for the performer across all three mediums.

Anyhow… In the meantime, I’m excited about March 2nd. And it would be fantastic to see lots of you there, you lovely readers, you. So here’s the shameless plug; Waiting Room March 2nd, New Adelphi Theatre, University of Salford. MIMO. It lasts about an hour, meaning you can fit in a glass of wine and also be home at a respectable time on a School Night. Best of all, you can get your tickets here.

See you next week.

Riding the disruption

So, I went to China earlier this week. Out on Saturday, back on Wednesday. I went out with a couple of colleagues to assess, and subsequently (hopefully) recommend formal university approval of a potential partnership with Zhejiang Fashion Institute of Technology (ZFIT) in Ningbo on the Eastern Coast.

The whole visit went very well. Although I’ve encountered a fair bit of Asia, and spent a lot of time in the South East, this was my first visit to China. As with all first visits to such places, encountering the cultural and geographical differences are a joyous aspect for me of what was an all-too-brief immersion into an other; from the different taste of the air as one steps off the plane, to the etiquette of the formal business card greeting, to the ubiquity of delicious green tea accompanying every meeting, to the unfamiliar shapes of the architecture, both in the smallest of details and the wider sense of a cityscape. And the food…Oh the food! As an ardent foodie I have come away with many new ideas echoing in my taste buds. Suffice to say we were hosted to with an inch of our lives….

My cultural rendering of the familiar as welcomingly different was offset by what I perceived to be an increasing sense of global connectivity. Backed by a clear directive from the government, Ningbo’s agenda is to build – there’s a palpable sense of opportunity fuelled by an appetite for growth delivered with a speed unthinkable in the UK. The hotel we stayed in was an impressive building, clearly there to provide a sense of familiarity blended with regional character to the international business traveller. Breakfast catered to the traditions of all continents… (I still went for the red bean porridge and noodles*) Similarly, our brief tour of the Ningbo waterfront city centre saw East and West meet, with the traditional buildings and cultural reverence for the historical teachings and the evolutionary story of China sitting alongside the new churches – modern glass and steel arcades fronted by Hugo Boss, Salvatore Ferragamo, Prada et al.

Here’s a link to a slide show of the whole experience…

Aside from the business of business (I’ll tie all this together at the end, promise) the other aspect of the visit was entirely unforeseen. When we left Manchester the airport was shrouded in fog, which delayed our departure, resulting in a change of connecting flights through to Ningbo. For a while we were headed for Shanghai, but it ended up being Beijing. However, these shenanigans resulted in my luggage deciding to have a trip of its own, which meant that, due to its wish for independence and its desire to take in a number of sights and experiences sans yours truly, we were only actually reunited in Beijing on the homeward flight.

This meant, pretty much as soon as we checked in, and in the slight wobbly corporeal mismatch between internal time zone and external reality, I needed to visit the shops in Ningbo in order to replace the essentials and find another shirt. I had a speech to give the next day to a large gathering and needed to find a look other than that of 27-hours-awake-in-flight-chic. So my graceful and understanding hosts took us all off to a local supermarket. This again was one of those instances where the familiar is rendered strange, but there’s fun to be found when one can ride the disruption. (You try miming ‘hair styling wax’ without shampoo being the inevitable result…) However, we managed to find a shirt (slightly over-cosy denim is, apparently, the look for 2017) and pair this with a brand new University of Salford tie (resplendent with new coat of arms, mind). I think I’m the first to wear the tie at an official event. And possibly the first and last to carry it off with a fetching light weave denim. I give thanks right here and now to various deities for the small mercy of my coat.

But it was fun – genuine exploratory fun – riding the disruption, I had a little taste of the unexpected and saw a tiny slice of everyday Ningbo that I wouldn’t have otherwise strayed into. What a beautiful gift.

And there’s the tie together. I find that meeting of opposites fascinating – it’s an often unpredictable collision: the plan and the unforeseen in the luggage adventure, the Eastern traditions and Western practices in Ningbo as a whole. I think that’s what our (hopefully soon to be formally approved) partnership offers; focused as it is on fashion, it’s a meeting place for western pedagogies associated with disruptive experiential creative practices ,set alongside a Chinese educational system which brings a personal discipline and set of traditional values into this shared learning sphere. It’s an interesting and carefully tuned endeavour – one I’m really looking forward to seeing grow and develop and one that will undoubtedly produce further possibilities.

Not a bad start to the year at Salford. I hope the rest of our 50th birthday year will be just as much fun….

See you next week.



*And possibly a croissant