Running between February 13th – March 3rd 2017, the 10bn Talks accompany an online course open to all second-year students at the University of Sheffield. Many of these events are open to the wider University and the public.
As one of the two academic leads working on Level 2 Achieve More: 10bn, I’m looking forward to hearing colleagues including Wyn Morgan, Tony Ryan, Megan Blake, Casey Strine, Tom Webb, Alastair Buckley, Cristina Cerulli, Jackie Labbe, Marco Viceconti, Annamaria Carusi, Paul White and many others talk about issues relating to a predicted global population of 10bn.
L2 students from all disciplines, faculties and departments at the University of Sheffield can sign up for L2 Achieve More here.
According to UN data, by 2055 the global population will have reached 10bn.
Level 2 Achieve More at the University of Sheffield is organising a series of events to accompany an online course aimed at second-year undergraduate students. Some of these events are also open to the public.
To see what’s on, follow this link.
I walked to Salmon Pastures. A. told me he went to school and did his apprenticeship there. He explained how his father’s funeral cortège had travelled slowly along Carlisle Street and the men came out of the steelworks, doffing their caps as it passed.
To get there, I travelled by tram to Nunnery Square – a patchwork of car parks and police buildings, hemmed in by security fencing. I walked under railway arches, past carwashes and small factories, before crossing Norfolk Bridge (built in 1856) and taking a sharp right along a small cobbled street to join the river.
An old man from Yemen was sitting on a bench watching the river crowfoot stream in long ribbons with the current. We talked for a few minutes and he told me how this is a good place. Quiet.
I walked with Daisy along the River Don from the Wardsend cemetery to Neepsend. At Wardsend, we started off a little way down the railway lines that run stark and clean through the undulating and overgrown cemetery, then veered off to follow the river itself, along the newly surfaced track that cuts through the vast mounds of debris – spolia from demolished works? – that loom either side. The electricity pylons hummed and crackled overhead and the thunderous engines of quad bikes rumbled and reverberated in an undefinable distance.
Everywhere we walk, waste. And amidst the waste, lilac and jack-in-the-hedge. The river bank is strewn with tyres and bottles and fast food wrappers, mattresses and plastic chairs, podgy black bin bags. A sign screwed to one of the metal kissing gates put there to stop the quad bikes : fly tippers – we are watching you.
At Wardsend, on the hill amidst the silver birch, there has been a fire. Graves squat in scorched earth, black tipped tendrils clasping shards of stone, displacing fragments of Victorian ironwork.
The Hillsborough playing fields are to our right. A man in a vermilion jersey sparks across the pitch. A sheep’s skull – or perhaps it is just a carrier bag – is revealed, briefly, as the river washes across it. Bottle-green, muddy mallards drift.
Neepsend. Eviscerated drag cars and deserted roads, leading to an empty, elevated horizon.