Jones is Reader in Performative Social Science at the Centre for Qualitative Research at Bournemouth University. His views alone are expressed here and not necessarily those of his University.
Kip has produced films and written many articles for academic journals and authored chapters for books on topics such as masculinity, ageing and rurality, and older LGBT citizens. His ground-breaking use of qualitative methods, including biography and auto-ethnography, and the use of tools from the arts in social science research and dissemination are well-known. Jones acted as Author and Executive Producer of the award-winning short film, RUFUS STONE, funded by Research Councils UK.
Areas of expertise
• Close relationships, culture and ethnicity
• Social psychology, sociology
• Ageing, self and identity
• Interpersonal processes, personality, individual
differences, social networks, prejudice and stereotyping
• Sexuality and sexual orientation
• Creativity and the use of the arts in Social Science
His work has been reported widely in the media, including: BBC Radio 4, BBC TV news, Times Higher Education, Sunday New York Times, International Herald-Tribune and The Independent.
Thursday, 25 July 2013
I have one candle. It's sort of a votive candle and scented. I fired it up and sat at my computer which, in good times and bad, makes me feel secure. (I could have used the Macbook, but I forgot that it works on batteries--I always plug it in. I wondered if Wifi works during an electrical outage? I guessed not.)
I looked out on the street and it was quiet. There seemed to be some lights, but most of the properties were dark. Suddenly, a car pulled up and a young man got out and went to the side door at the MOT shop across the road. The top floor is supposedly a men's club of some sort, but he seemed to have a key. He entered quickly and went up the stairs where the lights then went on. Before last night, I hadn't known that someone lived there.
I wasn't sure if the blackout was just in my flat or not. I spooked around the stairwell where the hall lights were still working. One flat had light under the door. I went down to the garage and looked at the row of electric meters. Two were dark, the others not moving. I came back upstairs and sat at the computer with my candle. The smell was beginning to sicken me.
Finally, I called the electric company and was relieved to hear that there were several reports of outages in this area. She said it would be fixed in a few hours. I said, 'Good, because the meters aren't turning and you're not making any money'. She laughed. I went to bed then, feeling better that it wasn't just me and that someone got my little joke.
I woke about an hour later when everything in the flat lit up again.
Boom! Blackout over.