Friday, April 25, 2025
Blog Page 1664

Matriculated Mummy

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It’s 11.59pm. The big hand is looming precariously closer towards the number 12 and it’s time you faced the facts – you need to pull an all-nighter. Again. You told yourself last week that you wouldn’t let this happen but here you are, staring at the screen, willing ‘Document 1’ to fill up with never-before-seen brilliance which will dazzle your tutors come the 10am tute (brilliance is optimistic – you’d settle for a few good points). Life as an Oxford student is hard. But we make it work, it’s all about adjustment. And adjustment is something I know about, what with having a two year old son to contend with whilst I try to decipher Shakespeare. 

If you’d told me a few years ago that by the time I was twenty I’d regularly be spending my time wiping excrement off another human being, I would have been enormously offended, and probably questioned your twisted sense of humour. You see, being single and having a child wasn’t in the life plan – let alone having a child at the tender age of eighteen. When I was twelve I envisioned myself being relatively child-free until around thirty, when suddenly I would ‘settle down’, get married to Hugh Grant’s younger brother, and pop out a set of twins named Tom and Jerry. But I’ve realised two vital things in the eight years in between. Firstly, that Tom and Jerry were never going to be good name choices, whatever the circumstances. Naming your children after a fictional duo of an unlucky cat and a devious mouse just isn’t a good move for the playground. Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, that life doesn’t care about the plans you have for it. But I’ve adjusted, and I’m loving the adjustment, despite the copious amount of nappy changes. 

Having a child is alien to most students – many of my friends were petrified even to go near Bailey when he was a baby, in case (a) he started crying (a given) or (b) they got asked to hold him (also a given). But what I’ve learnt from being both an Oxford student and a toddler’s mum, is how there are a few common ways that can help you to survive both.
1) Be a bit ridiculous
The determination to read four thick volumes in a week, despite knowing it’s a feat humanly impossible is not what I’d call conventional behaviour. But you do it anyway, and somehow manage it, or just about. Nor is the ability to juggle a heavy workload with several extracurricular activities and a role in the JCR, and still squeeze in time to be mildly sociable, a straightforward task. But so many of us do it. Take a look around Oxford and see the range of quirky, eccentric people we have here, I might go so far to say that to be a bit ‘odd’ is a product of the Oxford co ndition.
I first realised the extent of Bailey’s effect on my personality after I had spent the entire day pushing a teddy bear around Oxford. In a pushchair. You see, Bailey didn’t want to be taken for a ride in the Maclaren himself, but he did want to help Mummy ‘drive’ Teddy around the shops purely for the stuffed toy’s comfort. The unfortunate result of this request was that Bailey became wedged in between myself and the stroller, hiding him completely from view. 
To passing onlookers it looked like I had cracked, that the workload was simply too much, and I had resorted to pushing a spotty red stroller around the town centre with a teddy bear strapped into the harness. This, coupled with the fact that I (like students everywhere) put off laundry until it’s absolutely necessary and so was wearing the flattering ensemble of odd socks, striped jeans, and a fluorescent pink T-shirt, made me realise I’d entered the realm of the ridiculous. Moreover, I’d become a crazy old lady who watches pigeons (Bailey’s favourite pastime) by the age of twenty. I hadn’t expected to be here for a good forty years yet. 
 2) Get competitive
We’ve made it. We’re in one of the finest institutions for learning in the world. Congrats for beating the competition in the fierce, academic survival of the fittest. But don’t get complacent. Although we’re here we still experience rivalry from a range of different sources, whether it’s in contests between Oxford and Cambridge, between different colleges, or within our own subjects. A decent amount of tension, and often very blatant competition, is always bubbling under the surface. 
When I entered into Parent World I didn’t fully understand the concept of playground politics, a term which can fairly be applied to most if not all conversations between doting parents. Parent World is a dangerous zone of conflict, and should be entered into with the utmost precaution. My ignorance of this world’s very existence was soon remedied after a few of Bailey’s swimming lessons. Bailey loves his swimming lessons. I use the term ‘swimming’ very loosely here: he’s not quite got the whole coordinated leg and arm thing going on, but he does flail about in the water like a pro. Swimming was the first opportunity I got to encounter other mums in their natural environment, and I realised just how real competitive parenting is in day-to-day life. ‘My Noah’s so good at French’ or ‘Jenny’s starting to do 4 year old puzzles and she’s only two’ are frequent conversational topics in the swimming pool changing rooms. The first time I was treated to an account of Noah’s aptitude for French, I laughed out loud, thinking that Noah’s mum had just cracked some hilarious joke. It wasn’t a joke. No, one and a half year old Noah, who I had yet to hear speak any decipherable English, was developing a mysterious ability for French. I soon learnt to nod politely and exclaim how wonderful it is that X’s son/daughter has developed Y talent. Needless to say, Noah’s mum and I have never truly recovered from the tension. 
3) Learn to love deals
Whether it’s the reduced section at Tesco (a treasure hoard for slightly out of date yet delectable food at low, low prices), or discount tickets to Thursdays at Bridge, every student with a hefty overdraft knows and appreciates the value of deals. We have loyalty cards, student discounts, ‘buy four, get two free!’ vouchers – constant companions whenever we hit the shops or fancy a late night dominos. And nowhere does this love for discounted merchandise show itself in a more obvious form than at the Freshers’ Fair, the dream realised for the dedicated saver. Free pens, free bags, free T-shirts and pizza are all only a sign up away, the only hindrance being the weekly emails you’ll then have to unsubscribe to one by one for the rest of the year. We feel obliged to pick up free things at this event, even if we don’t need or want them, with my five fridge magnets advertising ‘the best in Oxford recruitment’ being a case in point. 
Like the student, the parent is on a constant quest for anything discounted. I circle the supermarket like a hawk, eyeing up every aisle on the off chance that a crazy bargain will reveal itself. My hands are constantly ready to make a grab before the next shopper can swoop in first, whether it’s for bulk packs of shower gel or eighteen individual chicken fillets. Having a child is a massive financial wound – it costs £200,000 on average to raise a child to twenty one – and this knowledge alone has made me almost fanatical in my bargain hunting.
4) Remember: it’s 
hard work, but worth it
Studying at Oxford is mentally and physically exhausting. Like you didn’t already know that. The academic side alone can be at times overwhelming and leave us, after a particularly grievous deadline, feeling like a shrivelled and dried up raisin. But studying in the city of dreaming spires is an incredible experience: the people we meet, the engagement with our subject, and the exposure to unique events (aka. Johnny Depp) is something to be cherished. We have odd traditions, like dressing up in a cape and kinky black ribbon upon entering the University, and more recently, braving a dark, stormy night until 6am to watch the Morris dancers flaunt their folky stuff (does anyone actually know why we celebrate May Day, anyway?). This really is one of the best, if not the best, time of our lives. 
But then so is being a parent. Never before could I get away with watching Toy Story 3 at least once a month, or relive the beauty of The Very Hungry Caterpillar without generating a weird reputation. I get to make cushion fortresses in the living room, visit farms and feed the ducks, and test my football skills with someone of vaguely the same level. Watching Bails grow up gives me a sense of achievement unrivalled by anything I’ve ever experienced before, and growing up with him is part of the excitement. I may refer to myself in the third person as ‘Mummy’ accidentally with my friends, and have an overly competitive mind-set when I enter the supermarket, but these are the side effects of being a parent which I’ve come to accept. Life really doesn’t listen to the life plan – it hurls trials and obstructions at us when it thinks we aren’t looking, but for me, it’s adjusting to these trials which has made life really worth living. 

Having a child is alien to most students – many of my friends were petrified even to go near Bailey when he was a baby, in case (a) he started crying (a given) or (b) they got asked to hold him (also a given). But what I’ve learnt from being both an Oxford student and a toddler’s mum, is how there are a few common tactics that can help you to survive both.

1) Be a bit ridiculous

The determination to read four thick volumes in a week, despite knowing it’s a feat humanly impossible is not what I’d call conventional behaviour. But you do it anyway, and somehow manage it, or just about. Nor is the ability to juggle a heavy workload with several extracurricular activities and a role in the JCR, and still squeeze in time to be mildly sociable, a straightforward task. But so many of us do it. Take a look around Oxford and see the range of quirky, eccentric people we have here, I might go so far to say that to be a bit ‘odd’ is a product of the Oxford condition.

I first realised the extent of Bailey’s effect on my personality after I had spent the entire day pushing a teddy bear around Oxford. In a pushchair. You see, Bailey didn’t want to be taken for a ride in the Maclaren himself, but he did want to help Mummy ‘drive’ Teddy around the shops purely for the stuffed toy’s comfort. The unfortunate result of this request was that Bailey became wedged in between myself and the stroller, hiding him completely from view. To passing onlookers it looked like I had cracked, that the workload was simply too much, and I had resorted to pushing a spotty red stroller around the town centre with a teddy bear strapped into the harness.

This, coupled with the fact that I (like students everywhere) put off laundry until it’s absolutely necessary and so was wearing the flattering ensemble of odd socks, striped jeans, and a fluorescent pink T-shirt, made me realise I’d entered the realm of the ridiculous. Moreover, I’d become a crazy old lady who watches pigeons (Bailey’s favourite pastime) by the age of twenty. I hadn’t expected to be here for a good forty years yet. 

 2) Get competitive

We’ve made it. We’re in one of the finest institutions for learning in the world. Congrats for beating the competition in the fierce, academic survival of the fittest. But don’t get complacent. Although we’re here we still experience rivalry from a range of different sources, whether it’s in contests between Oxford and Cambridge, between different colleges, or within our own subjects. A decent amount of tension, and often very blatant competition, is always bubbling under the surface. 

When I entered into Parent World I didn’t fully understand the concept of playground politics, a term which can fairly be applied to most if not all conversations between doting parents. Parent World is a dangerous zone of conflict, and should be entered into with the utmost precaution. My ignorance of this world’s very existence was soon remedied after a few of Bailey’s swimming lessons. Bailey loves his swimming lessons. I use the term ‘swimming’ very loosely here: he’s not quite got the whole coordinated leg and arm thing going on, but he does flail about in the water like a pro. Swimming was the first opportunity I got to encounter other mums in their natural environment, and I realised just how real competitive parenting is in day-to-day life. ‘My Noah’s so good at French’ or ‘Jenny’s starting to do 4 year old puzzles and she’s only two’ are frequent conversational topics in the swimming pool changing rooms. The first time I was treated to an account of Noah’s aptitude for French, I laughed out loud, thinking that Noah’s mum had just cracked some hilarious joke. It wasn’t a joke. No, one and a half year old Noah, who I had yet to hear speak any decipherable English, was developing a mysterious ability for French. I soon learnt to nod politely and exclaim how wonderful it is that X’s son/daughter has developed Y talent. Needless to say, Noah’s mum and I have never truly recovered from the tension. 

3) Learn to love deals

Whether it’s the reduced section at Tesco (a treasure hoard for slightly out of date yet delectable food at low, low prices), or discount tickets to Thursdays at Bridge, every student with a hefty overdraft knows and appreciates the value of deals. We have loyalty cards, student discounts, ‘buy four, get two free!’ vouchers – constant companions whenever we hit the shops or fancy a late night dominos. And nowhere does this love for discounted merchandise show itself in a more obvious form than at the Freshers’ Fair, the dream realised for the dedicated saver. Free pens, free bags, free T-shirts and pizza are all only a sign up away, the only hindrance being the weekly emails you’ll then have to unsubscribe to one by one for the rest of the year. We feel obliged to pick up free things at this event, even if we don’t need or want them, with my five fridge magnets advertising ‘the best in Oxford recruitment’ being a case in point. 

Like the student, the parent is on a constant quest for anything discounted. I circle the supermarket like a hawk, eyeing up every aisle on the off chance that a crazy bargain will reveal itself. My hands are constantly ready to make a grab before the next shopper can swoop in first, whether it’s for bulk packs of shower gel or eighteen individual chicken fillets. Having a child is a massive financial wound – it costs £200,000 on average to raise a child to twenty one – and this knowledge alone has made me almost fanatical in my bargain hunting.

4) Remember: it’s hard work, but worth it

Studying at Oxford is mentally and physically exhausting. Like you didn’t already know that. The academic side alone can be at times overwhelming and leave us, after a particularly grievous deadline, feeling like a shrivelled and dried up raisin. But studying in the city of dreaming spires is an incredible experience: the people we meet, the engagement with our subject, and the exposure to unique events (aka. Johnny Depp) is something to be cherished. We have odd traditions, like dressing up in a cape and kinky black ribbon upon entering the University, and more recently, braving a dark, stormy night until 6am to watch the Morris dancers flaunt their folky stuff (does anyone actually know why we celebrate May Day, anyway?). This really is one of the best, if not the best, time of our lives. 

But then so is being a parent. Never before could I get away with watching Toy Story 3 at least once a month, or relive the beauty of The Very Hungry Caterpillar without generating a weird reputation. I get to make cushion fortresses in the living room, visit farms and feed the ducks, and test my football skills with someone of vaguely the same level. Watching Bails grow up gives me a sense of achievement unrivalled by anything I’ve ever experienced before, and growing up with him is part of the excitement. I may refer to myself in the third person as ‘Mummy’ accidentally with my friends, and have an overly competitive mind-set when I enter the supermarket, but these are the side effects of being a parent which I’ve come to accept. Life really doesn’t listen to the life plan – it hurls trials and obstructions at us when it thinks we aren’t looking, but for me, it’s adjusting to these trials which has made life really worth living. 

Future Prospects- Richard Sambrook, Professor of Journalism

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Alishba Khaliq talks to Richard Sambrook, who worked for the BBC for over 30 years, and is now Professor of Journalism at Cardiff University and a fellow at the Oxford Reuters Institute of Journalism.

Joke application for JCR President

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A second year student at New College was unknowingly entered for the JCR President elections by a friend last week.

A makeshift manifesto was submitted for Jonny Green, a physicist, by his roommate. The manifesto boasted credentials such as “I’m really clever – came sixth in the year in Prelims” and “I have experience in organising the Physics dinner”. It also promised to “take control in the bar and lower all drinks prices”.

Green told Cherwell that the manifesto was created and submitted whilst he was preparing for a night out. “My roommate and I were getting ready for the night ahead. I was in my room getting changed but had unwittingly left my laptop on. During that time he hijacked myGgmail and made a makeshift manifesto highlighting a few of my so-called qualities and ideas.

“Midway through the night, I received an email from the New College Returning Officer asking me about some sort of proposer thing, but at the time I thought nothing of it! The next morning students seemed to be grinning a lot when they saw me and it only occurred to my why when I read my emails and saw that I had been entered.”

Green’s roommate, Robert Hunt, explained that he had intended to keep the whole event secret and “to get Jonny really drunk and put him into hustings.”

The plan ultimately fell through as Hunt had forgotten to get the manifesto proposed before submitting it. The application was removed from the JCR, but not before it had been viewed by a large proportion of the student body.

Green said that he was relieved at not embarrassing himself any further, adding, “I definitely wasn’t considering the position.” When asked how his fellow students had reacted to the manifesto, he said, “They all found the whole thing brilliant and I think deep down, people are gutted that [Hunt] made that schoolboy error!”

Others however, were less amused by the prank. JCR President Oscar Lee told Cherwell, “Jonny was disqualified from running because he did not have someone to propose his nomination.

“The joke wasn’t funny and the audience was spared an hour of an excruciating husting which would have been enjoyed by about two people in the room.”

Transgender priest gives sermon in Hertford Chapel

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Reverend Dr Christina Beardsley, a transgender priest, was invited by Hertford College to preach at Evensong on Sunday.

Representing Changing Attitude, an organisation that works for the full inclusion of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people in the Church of England and in the Anglican Communion, Beardsley preached in front of a wide range of students, tutors and fellows. This included members of the Christian Union, as well as college and University diversity a LGBTQ officers.

In her sermon, Dr Beardsley said, “Some Christians seem to treat the Bible exactly like a rule book, especially when it comes to matters of sexuality and gender. Texts and verses are ripped from their context and misused as sticks with which to beat lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people as well as women.

“Though he does not address homosexuality specifically in his teaching, the values of Jesus towards those who are sexually compromised…is one of compassion and forgiveness…the values of Jesus in the gospels seem very different from those who appear to demonise the sexually or gender variant person.”

The Revd Dr Andrew Teal, Chaplain at Pembroke College, who recently delivered a sermon in which he encouraged the acceptance and affirmation of the LGBTQ community from the Church added, “I’m delighted that she was invited and have no doubt that her humanity will help others.”

Dr Beardsley was warmly received by members of the college. Mei Cooper, an LGBT rep at Hertford, stated, “From an LGBTQ perspective, I’d say that it was pretty good… she did give a sense of the progress being made in parish churches, and also gave a message of hope to those who might feel marginalised by the Church.”

She added, “In terms of the choice of preacher, I think it was quite a bold move on the Chaplain’s part, but reflects Hertford College’s progressive stance.”

Another member of the college explained, “I was pleasantly surprised to have some of my stereotypes about Hertford Chapel broken – I’d always thought it would take a conservative stance on most issues…absolutely no-one should ever be rejected from a church regardless of identity, belief or opinion.”

However, she added, “In terms of her main point about the church accepting transgender people, I absolutely agree. But I think her overarching message that everything and anything to do with LGBTQ was totally fine by the Bible was too huge a message to put across in ten minutes, knowing she wouldn’t have the time to Biblically justify it.”

Following the sermon, Beardsley blogged about her experience, writing, “At one point I was strongly challenged, not, as might have been expected, by the CU members, but by two bisexual people, a young man and woman, who felt bruised by identity politics; caught between ‘both sides’: gay and straight. It’s not a view anyone’s expressed to me before.

‘I was glad that they felt free to discuss idenity and that we had an opportunity to talk it through; and to talk about other things, for there’s far more to life than gender, sexuality and the Church of England, important as these matters are.’

CCTV suggested for Somerville kitchen thieves

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Somerville College has threatened to put CCTV cameras in college kitchens after a spate of food thefts from communal fridges. Posters containing the warnings went up yesterday morning following discussions between members of the JCR committee and the Domestic Bursar, Carol Reynolds.

The thefts, which have been occurring throughout Somerville over the last few terms, have been of a number of foodstuffs. Salmon, cheese, bread, chorizo, mushrooms, jam, hot chocolate, garlic, Alpen, Diet Coke, courgettes, and ham are among those foodstuffs that have allegedly stolen.

JCR President Tom Allsup sent an email to JCR members on Wednesday, updating them on recent progress. He said, “The college has recognised the severity of the current problem and is working towards identifying the culprit(s).

“In the mean time we would like to re-emphasise the importance of labelling all your food and having total respect for the property of others. Carol [Reynolds] would also like to stress that if the motivations behind these thefts are financial, the individuals really should just get in contact with her who will provide all the help she can in total confidence.”

The posters, signed by the Housekeeping and Lodge Manager, are entitled “Possible kitchen CCTV monitoring”, and read, “It has been reported that items of food are being removed from this area without the permission of the owner(s). This notice is to inform you that should this continue the College will have no alternative but to place CCTV cameras within this area to monitor this matter. Taking items that do not belong to you without the permission of the owner is theft.”

Students took to Facebook to express their outrage at the food thefts, with some novel solutions proposed by undergraduates to combat the incidents. Florence Avery commented, “I feel a Poirot-esque confrontation with every possible culprit in a room at the same time needs to happen at some point”.

Nick Cooper agreed, saying that the students should “smoke this person out”. Eleanor Keindeg Jaskowska addressed a comment to the “Thief of Penrose”, saying, “If you are in financial difficulty college will help you out. If you are stealing for kicks please seek psychological help.” David Railton called the thefts “beyond tedious”.

Responses to the possibility of CCTV being installed in the kitchens have been mixed. One second year Somerville student said, “Personally, I think installing CCTV is rather excessive, but at the same time the issue of food theft has really got out of hand lately. I’m not sure how effective CCTV will be anyway, since it’s quite hard to tell what food people are taking.”

However, another second year condemned the proposal, arguing, “That’s absolutely ridiculous. Somerville relies on a community, and to have that kind of suspicion is just a bit odd, and to have cameras around college would be weird. It’s a very bad decision. Very bad decision.”

Rose Newman, a third year English student, referred to the financial implications of the thefts for students, commenting, “It’s just really inconsiderate and annoying; most of us don’t have that much money to spare, and if I wanted to feed someone else I’d go and help a Big Issue Seller not a closet kleptomaniac.

“That said, I don’t agree with the decision to install CCTV. We are an Oxford College not a Young Offenders’ Institute, and the rest of us shouldn’t be treated like criminals just because a certain someone(s) can’t keep their thieving little paws to themselves.”

When contacted by Cherwell, Somerville’s Domestic Bursar, Carol Reynolds, declined to comment.

For the love of all that’s Holi

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Over 1,000 people braved the chilly weather last Sunday to appear for this year’s Holi celebration at Merton Mansfield sports grounds. Organisers described the event as a “huge success with a vast amount being raised for charity.”

The Holi ‘festival of colours’ stems from an age-old Indian agricultural tradition, celebrating the arrival of spring. Participants throw coloured powder on one another and spray water to rejoice in the colour and liveliness of spring.

Cups of powder were distributed for £1 each and attendees were encouraged to bring water bottles with which to douse fellow revellers. Water guns were also sold, and were in such high demand that supplies ran out within 20 minutes.

Organiser Shyam Thakerar said, “Everyone had a brilliant afternoon from as far as I could tell, which I feel is really important in the stress-filled Trinity Term. With the grey skies we’ve had recently, Oxford could do with a bit of colour!”

Second year English student Jess Campbell said the event was “fab, colourful and very wet”, while Sachin de Stone, a Maths and Philosophy student, commented, “It was euphoric. It was so vivid, I saw it, tasted it, smelt it, and loved every minute of it.”

Despite the event’s success, there were some concerns about the use of water while Britain suffers drought. One first-year musician, who preferred to remain anonymous, did not attend the festival but commented, “How can people be running around laughing and wasting precious water while this drought threatens us all?”

The celebration managed to raise over £1,550 for the two sponsored charities, Ashiana Charitable Trust and the Smile Foundation.

Students survive on a pound a day

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Students throughout Oxford have resolved to live off just £1 per day to raise money for charity.

Live Below the Line, which describes itself as “an innovative awareness and fundraising campaign”, is an initiative of the Global Poverty Project, an education and campaigning organisation whose mission is “to increase the number and effectiveness of people taking action against extreme poverty”.

The project invites individuals and communities to live off £1 per day for food for five days, in order to “glimpse into the lives” of the 1.4 billion people currently living under the poverty line.

Jonny Dower, a first-year PPE-ist from Lincoln, said, “So why am I doing it? There are 1.4 billion reasons – that’s how many people live on £1 or less a day. Our challenge only involves spending £1 on food and drink for five days – the reality for these 1.4 billion people is that this (or even less) has to be enough for everything. What if a member of your family falls ill? How can you afford to treat them? This is a reality we really can barely begin to understand living in a developed country, and something that we shouldn’t ignore.

“Live Below the Line offers an opportunity to raise awareness of an ever-present global problem and, through raising money for effective charities, the chance to make a real difference to some of those living below the line.”

Tomas Christmas, also from Lincoln, commented, “I heard about it at an international development conference I went to back in Michaelmas – it sounded like a great way to raise money and awareness so I wanted to get a decent group of friends and CU members doing it too! As well as the obvious fundraising benefit it gives a huge personal perspective on spending habits. I often spend more on a single meal than a lot of people can spend in a week – this is really making me think about where my money goes day to day.”

He added, “Half way through the first day I think I’m still holding up pretty well. Although I’m worried that I’ll get a bit sick of Tesco Value beans by the end of the week.”

However, some have criticised the scheme. One anonymous student said, “While I think that raising money for charity is always commendable, I’m not sure the scheme provides any real insight into a life in poverty. People taking part already have all the home comforts they need: a warm bed, a hot shower, a microwave, a kettle, a toaster. Really what they’re experiencing is a bit of inconvenience and food that’s not great for a few days, it’s patronising to suggest that this even comes close to the destitution that’s out there. I’d rather just donate money to these charities in the knowledge that I’ll fortunately never experience the reality of extreme poverty.”

Phil Bull, a DPhil astrophysicist, makes up one half of fundraising team ‘The Cunning Astrolinguisists’ alongside fellow Wadhamite Asia Lindsay, a linguist. He told Cherwell, “We’re doing it to highlight the issue of food poverty internationally, and also to challenge ourselves. Food poverty is estimated to affect around 4 million people in the UK alone. Live Below the Line raises awareness of food poverty around the world, while simultaneously raising money for a number of charities who are combating this problem.

“We also wanted to see how being deprived of the foods we love would affect us psychologically – what will we do without a yummy chocolatey pick-me-up of an afternoon? What are we going to do without caffeine? Rumours that we’re just being cheap are greatly exaggerated. The realisation soon set in that many of the foods are very bland and boring – we doubt that Aldi noodles and fish fingers are anyone’s idea of fine dining.” ­

The international Extreme Poverty Line was defined by the World Bank in 2005 as $1.25 US dollars per day, which after adjusting for inflation, is estimated by the Global Poverty Project to equal £1 in GBP. This figure is calculated using purchasing power parity to accommodate the difference in foreign exchange rates.

Live Below the Line is occurring from the 7th – 11th May and has raised over £200,000 so far this year.

Album Review: Europe – Allo Darlin’

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Allo Darlin’ tackle important issues. The video to ‘My Heart is a Drummer’ shows two people in oversized cardboard hearts playing table tennis. Their lyrics include ‘I sent you a postcard from Berlin, of a fat man eating a sausage’. Europe doesn’t strive to be serious, but it possesses a quality superior to any ‘twee-pop’ stereotypes.

This is not an album simply evoking idyllic summer days and the happiness of youth. The refreshingly clean instrumentation veils in an almost euphoric haze some of the real sentiments present. In ‘Tallulah’, the sparsest song on the album, Morris’ pessimism and pain are most manifest. She wistfully reminisces over previous summer outings, ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen all my old friends’, yet still attempts to be optimistic: ‘I really love my new friends feel I’ve known them a long while’. However, negativity permeates through Europe, providing contrasts with the happiness and making Allo Darlin’s music far more intricate and enjoyable than that of many twee-pop acts who describe the world with an offensively fanciful view. They possess a realistic nostalgia and a clear understanding of life’s ability to fluctuate from exhilarating to oppressive.

Excessive layers of instruments do not dominate, the playful guitar sings alongside Morris, wandering off to higher reaches before reconnecting in a charming manner. Violin, reminiscent of Lanterns on the Lake, mirrors the lyrics’ sadness, while steel guitar complements positive images. Morris’ voice combines the charm of Zooey Deschanel’s with an aching vulnerability, making her less Hollywood and more human.

Allo Darlin’ have maintained the endearing warmth and excitement of an over-populated genre yet kept a firm understanding of life and included a wide spectrum of emotions. Europe is an exquisite summer record that pleases in the background and intrigues upon closer inspection.

Four stars

Review: The Tempest, Magdalen

The Magdalen Players’ production of The Tempest was forced indoors on Wednesday night
by the constant drizzle that seems to have recently descended upon us. The last-minute move
to the college auditorium left the actors still putting together the set as the audience arrived. It
was a particular blow as this light-hearted staging of Shakespeare’s last play would have been
ideal for a balmy evening in the open air of the President’s Garden.

The production’s main twist framed Prospero not as the exiled Duke of Milan, but as the usurped ringmaster of a Milanese circus, left to while away the years with card tricks on his mysterious island. He was complemented by a hyperactive and juggling Ariel, striped costumes and an accordion and guitar duo, with engaging results that also reflected the play’s conceit of its characters as entertainers.

With all the high spirits, the staging’s chief weakness was its neglect of The Tempest’s darker side. Dylan Townley’s top-hatted Prospero was a little thin, and lacked the bitterness of a man who has been left marooned for half a lifetime by his own brother, while Antonio (Archie Cornish) and Sebastian (Cameron Quinn) looked far too approachable to be convincing cold-blooded killers.

In its comedy, however, this jaunty Tempest really shone. Andrew Wynn Owen excelled as the kindly Gonzalo, relentlessly positive but ever so mildly senile. Sam Plumb’s camp Trinculo was equally well done, giving such a startlingly natural delivery that I started to wonder if he’d gone off script and was boldly improvising on Shakespeare. The decision to stage the play as an upbeat and masque-like spectacle may have cost it some depth, but made for a charming summer production which will hopefully return to the open air where it belongs.

FOUR STARS