Cicero knew the people she wanted around her. She knew she was getting older. That she couldn’t go on forever. She knew it was a question of assembling a team. Of bringing together a cadre. Of constituting one. People who would Understand.
Cicero liked our humility. We were people who’d be happy to remain in the provinces. We didn’t have Lofty Ambitions. We weren’t all Cambridged and Oxforded up. We came from lesser universities. From low league-table universities.
Which were, of course, the only places where you could study European European philosophy. Not Anglicised European philosophy. Not Analytic-style European philosophy. But European European philosophy.
Cicero liked the fact that we were drawn to it, European European philosophy. As she was, back in the day. As Cicero herself was, back behind the iron curtain.
Work in Progress 