Friday, April 25, 2025
Blog Page 1793

Oxford student, 24, dies in holiday accident

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An Oxford student has died after a tragic accident in southwest France on Wednesday afternoon. His two friends, also from Oxford, tried but were unable to save him.

The victim was 24 year old American Kojo Owusu Minta, who was Vice-President of the St Hilda’s College MCR last academic year. He had just completed an MPhil in History at St Hilda’s and was due to begin a DPhil at Lincoln in Michaelmas.  

The three students were part of a group of a dozen Americans and Britons staying at a cottage in a nearby village. They had spent the day on the banks of the Gave d’Oleron near Dognen in the Pyrenees-Atlantiques, when Minta lost his footing and was swept away by the current.

His two friends were unable to catch up with the current and soon lost sight of him. After another British tourist on the other side of the river alerted the emergency services, he was located downstream by a rescue helicopter.

A fire department doctor attempted for over an hour to resuscitate him but was unsuccessful.

The tragedy is said to have shaken the small town of Dognen, as the area of the river is reportedly popular for swimming with tourists and locals alike. The site is generally considered safe, with no previous history of accidents.

Dr Georgina Paul, Tutor for Graduates at St Hilda’s, told Cherwell this week: ‘The College is feeling the loss of Kojo Minta very sorely. He was a man of style and panache, a great personality in the College community, and it is impossible to comprehend how someone so dynamic could have had his life cut short in this way.

‘But he was also a man of quiet good works and deep convictions, and I think all of us are feeling the strength of that legacy: his love of the Bible and of Milton, his work not just for the College, but for the University’s Race Equality Steering Group, and with the African Books Collective amongst other activities.

‘He had just attained a Distinction in his History MPhil and had the funding to continue on to his DPhil. His supervisors have written to me of his academic promise and energy and their shock, too, at his loss. This tragic accident has robbed the University of a talented mind as well as taking from all of us a very fine and special man. Kojo will for ever be remembered at St Hilda’s.’

A memorial webpage in honour of Kojo Owusu Minta can be found here:  http://www.forevermissed.com/kojo-minta.

Britain and Ireland in colour

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Brighton Pier

 

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Brighton beach

 

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Richmond Park, London

 

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Ducks in Richmond Park, London

 

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Damselfly in Richmond Park, London. 

 

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Brownstone Beach, Ireland

 

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Derryrush, Ireland at sunset 
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Derryrush, Ireland at midnight

 

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Worcester College, Oxford

 

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Bird on a bike in Oxford

An American parable

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I have seen The Social Network seven times now, and I’m still astounded by how I remain hungry for more viewings, eager to immerse myself once again in the richness of the world it portrays. I still insist it was the best film of 2010, and, There Will Be Blood aside, it might well be the best film since the 90s. I also don’t accept in the slightest that this is just a ‘moment’ which resonates with my generation in particular, and this is a point worth dwelling on. I think the film will persist for some time, for reasons to now be explored.

I did initially perceive the film, then, in a way that was hospitable to this sort of criticism: it’s about the founding of a website that has quietly integrated itself into our lives to an extent we should stop and appreciate, and the moments and lines that stood out in the film were the opening scene, with its array of communication problems; the final scene, and its disturbingly honest and representative screen-staring; the scene where Mark’s friend asks him if a girl is single, and he sarcastically replies that people don’t go around with signs indicative of their relationship status, before sprinting off to edit Facebook’s HTML; when the Winklevosses realise Mark had been lying to them – or, more accurately, their email accounts. Together, these moments that are so telling about the way we’ve come to contact one another, came to constitute my impression of the film, and it’s easy to suggest that if social networking goes the same way as any other modern craze – or, conversely, if it becomes so natural that people cannot comprehend life without it – either way, the film’s hip humour and power could disintegrate.

One vital reason that this is nonsense, of course, is the fact that a film’s showing a world we cannot relate to is no indication whatsoever that it won’t be totally enthralling – how else to explain our obsession with the world of crime that few movie-goers will barely get anywhere near to? Then when you add in the fact that as a piece of art the film is just flawless, possessing one of the most distinctive and coherent mise-en-scènes that we’ve seen in years, The Social Network‘s status is starting to look safe as a viable candidate to stand the tests of time.

There’s one final consideration, though, that I think will ensure its greatness. If you recall the night club scene, you’ll remember that after a lengthy story about the founder of Victoria’s Secret that sold out a year too soon and committed suicide, Mark, perplexed, asks if it was intended as a parable. I think the whole film is a parable. I think it is best seen as one huge gushing love-letter to America as an idea, and as the nation of innovation, liberty, prosperity. And this holds true whether it was Fincher’s conscious intention or not. Perhaps you can only see the film in this way if you’re not American, but I suspect if you’re a citizen you get the equally wonderful sensation of pride instead. It’s simply impossible not to watch these undergraduates carve out a vision that has reached over 500 million people without knowing they’re adding themselves to a long line of innovators stretching from Howard Hughes to Bill Gates. You know it could only have happened in America. You know Harvard looks like a university where the air is just that little bit fresher and freer to breathe, and you know Sean Parker could never be British, and nowhere else in the world could twenty-something nobodies drop out of college and be made billionaires in a matter of years.

For me, at least, I think this is the final source of the film’s almost magical appeal: awe at a world and lifestyle we’re lucky just to watch and be aware of, even if it’s impossibly distant. As Eduardo casually hops from Manhattan to California, The Social Network grows into a 2 hour paean to the USA. Ironically unoriginal, but something tells me that if people remain sane, this will continue to engross and inspire for a long time to come.

Get smart!

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I’m one of the last people I know to actually get a smartphone, having survived with a Sony Ericsson that cost me about £15 three years ago when I bought it as a ‘temporary’ phone. This means that I’ve been part of the ever dwindling group of people that can always fall back on my phone for cheap laughs if a conversation is going badly. Having finally upgraded my phone to join the Blackberry/iPhone-wielding masses I’ve found my life has changed for both better and for worse.

Any question or argument can now be solved in about five minutes (providing I have 3G signal), instead of spending hours wondering or debating. In the past two weeks of iPhone ownership I’ve used it to answer more standard questions, such as the name of the song used at the start of Reservoir Dogs (Little Green Bag), to slightly more off-kilter topics such as whether anyone has ever survived a plane crash into the sea (the answer is yes, which I hope reassures you if you are flying abroad this summer). This does tend to ruin conversation though; it’s always a bit depressing when your anecdote about how planes only come with a procedure for crashing at sea to make passengers feel better is ruined by someone who is on the internet as you speak, finding the one example of a European flight from the 1960s that did actually manage to land safely. 

Of course the internet can be used for more than just fact finding (not that I really need to tell you, as I’m pretty sure if you’re reading this you are well acquainted with it). I now no longer have to try and remember my transport arrangements/appointments/cinema times or write long lists of them. Recently, pre-iPhone, I got the train back from London and suddenly realised that I had absolutely no idea where to change or at what times. I panicked and had to ask the woman opposite me to plan my route home on hers and, while she was very helpful, her look of surprise when I showed her my phone said it all.

The iPhone also helps me to get my Facebook fix, like the junkie I am, on the move as opposed to having to rely on my desktop or laptop, which both come with the significant ‘disadvantage’ of not letting my check Facebook at any second of the day. Facebook has now become completely portable for me. I can check in so that everyone knows I’m sat in KFC Oxford (normally the sign of an essay crisis); I can respond to those Varsity Events invitations as soon as they come in, just so that I can be one of the first down to attend Blues at Camera (which, as always, is likely to be as rammed as a promiscuous ewe); I can see what pictures I’m tagged in immediately, although I have now experienced the horror of finding myself tagged in a photo from Park End that I can’t even remember being taken but which I am unable to de-tag until I run back to my desktop. I can even add people mere seconds after meeting them as opposed to having to wait until I get back to my computer (by which time there’s always the danger they may have forgotten me and may not return my all-important friend request).

Unfortunately, when my virtual friends are so close, where is the incentive to talk to the ones that are sat next to me? How can I see their tagged photos and who has written on their wall in face-to-face conversation? I’ve been in conversations and looked up from my iPhone to realise that I’ve not listened to a single thing said in the conversation or, even worse, that everyone has realised this and has cast me out, like some sort of electronic leper. Even if nothing has changed on Facebook in the last five minutes, there’s always the random article button on Wikipedia or YouTube. This wasn’t a problem with my Sony Ericsson, which only offered the choice of playing Snake or reorganising my contacts as sources of procrastination (please don’t judge me, you have to be inventive when you’ve only got WAP and Snake gets boring pretty quickly, although it’s safe to say I got pretty good at it).

The iPhone also hasn’t exactly done wonders for my self-confidence. I’ve always known that my hands aren’t exactly slender and that I don’t quite have the hand-eye co-ordination of a fighter pilot but this was confirmed when I started using the touch-screen phone. I’ve found the keyboard almost impossible to use, leaving my texts looking like they’ve been composed after a heavy night at Park End unless I turn the phone sideways to make the keys that all-important bit bigger. The disadvantage of this is that you quickly realise almost nobody actually uses the iPhone like this and people start to double-take when you use it this way.

Another thing I’ve found is that now I have a phone that is actually worth something I’m permanently worried that something may happen to it, with a feeling I imagine is pretty similar to parents worrying about their children. Waking up in the morning after a night out involves now not just wondering what happened last night and who I have to apologise to but also frantically checking the pockets of my jeans (which I nearly always wake up in – classy, I know) and any flat surface where I may have carefully placed my iPhone. Equally, dropping my phone results in a feeling of pure terror as I wonder just how many pieces the screen will be in when I pick it back up again. The worse thing that happened with my Sony Ericsson was that the 2 and 5 keys would stop working. That was easily be solved by just dropping it again or hitting it against a nearby table.

Of course, one of the biggest advantages is that I can now play Angry Birds. Need I say more?

Lionhead – A Radio Play

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Cast:

Rolf : Ed Chalk (Brasenose)

David: Alex Bowles (Mansfield)

Polly: Hannah Roberts (Hertford)

Creative:

Director: Will Maynard (Oriel)

Writer: Xenia Elsaesser (St Anne’s)

 

This radio play was written, rehearsed and recorded within 24 hours, as part of OUDS’ 24hour theatre festival in 2009. The cast have all since graduated.

Review: Wild Abandon by Joe Dunthorne

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Following up a novel as highly acclaimed as Joe Dunthorne’s 2008 Submarine, which was adapted recently into a successful film, can’t be an easy task. Like many coming of age novels with precocious but flawed teenage protagonists, the book attracted comparisons with Catcher in the Rye and Adrian Mole, and Dunthorne’s sharply humorous and poetic style of writing flagged him up immediately as a bright talent.

His new novel starts, as his debut did, with young people discovering themselves, struggling with first love, A Levels and squabbling parents, but the twist is in the setting: Albert and Kate live in a Welsh commune dedicated to “alternative living”, started up by their parents and their friends, where drugs are something that “old people do”, mobile phones are switched on only in emergencies, showers have to be timed and TV adverts are covered over with a thin curtain. As Don and Freya’s marriage disintegrates and the community seems to be crashing around them, a giant rave is planned, serving partly as a publicity stunt, partly as a necessary bid for salvation in the face of everyone’s internal apocalypses.

Wild Abandon shares many of the elements that made Submarine such a success. Albert is a wonderful creation, an eccentric and articulate 11 year old masochist with a smooth telephone manner. The writing is excellent and is what makes the book such a delight to read, each page-turning page packed full of unexpected and vivid similes. Dunthorne’s well-honed knack of getting into the minds of his teenage (and non-teenage) characters makes the story constantly believable, and allows the shifting third person perspective to work well, although perhaps the story of drug-fuelled, lovesick Patrick is not as absorbing as that of Albert, led by the Mayan calendar enthusiast Marina to believe that the world is ending, or Kate, who seeks solace in nearby suburbia with her boyfriend Geraint and his family, rebelling from the rebellion. The hopeless idealism of patriarch Don and the sense of despair of his wife Freya are counterbalanced emotively, as real issues and relationships are deftly dealt with alongside humorous vignettes from commune life, such as Don’s attempt at a man-to-man chat with the disgusted Albert.

The book is clearly well-researched, and moves gradually but enticingly towards a fitting climax. The psychological problems of all the characters do not make them any less endearing, a word which Albert, who “doesn’t understand cute”, is said to hate. Joe Dunthorne has pulled off the proverbially difficult second novel. Wild Abandon is original and absorbing, and full of laugh-out-loud moments: read it before the inevitable indie film gets in the way.

Bod ventures into a technological world

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The Bodleian Libraries, in conjunction with mobile application developer Toura, released their first mobile app last week.

The app, entitled “The Making of the King James Bible” is the first in a series designed to enable the Bodleian to share some of their greatest collections in new formats. It is being launched to coincide with the 400th anniversary of the publication of the King James Bible, and the summer exhibition, “Manifold Greatness: Oxford and the Making of the King James Bible”.

Many documents and books relating to the King James Bible translation are being brought together for the first time, such as a copy of the infamous “Wicked Bible” of 1631, which contains a misprint in the seventh commandment which commanded readers to commit adultery, with most copies having been subsequently burned.

The app also includes commentary from the curators and fellow of St. Cross College Diarmaid MacCulloch, a leading authority on the history of the Church.

Whilst this is only the first app released by the Bodleian Libraries, it is part of a wider move to embrace emerging formats of distributing and displaying the Bodleian’s vast collection. The Gough map, the earliest surviving map of Great Britain, was recently released in a digital format for the first time by the Bodleian Map Library, as was reported on by Cherwell this week.

Andrew Teal, a fellow in Theology at Pembroke College, said, “I think all new ventures that make learning more interactive and less passive are good … there are already quite a variety of technophile resources (podcasts of lectures etc).”

“The Making of the King James Bible” has been made available for Apple and Android devices, for £0.69. The next app in the series is due to be released in autumn, and has been described as “a browsable collection of some of the Bodleian’s greatest treasures including the newly-acquired Jane Austen manuscript, ‘Magna Carta’, Shakespeare’s ‘First Folio’, Mary Shelley’s ‘Frankenstein’.”

Once Upon A Thai

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So you want to get off the beaten track, immerse yourself in a completely different culture and find yourself on the road? When I thought of South East Asia, I thought of the meandering Mekong, chanting Buddhist monks, misty rice paddies…

(I have assumed knowledge of last year’s viral Gap Yah video on YouTube, so for the uninitiated I suggest a watch — one is enough to get a handle on those irritatingly quotable one-liners.)

If you are in fact on your gap year, chances are that you will become one of the following:

Exhibit 1: The Gap Yah Girl

Baggy white printed Thai beer vest, with arm holes almost large enough to let their midriff escape. Frayed denim shorts that pretend to cover their bikini bottoms. Messed up top knot. About 20 bracelets on each arm. I mean it’s, like, helping the local economy. Ray Ban Wayfarers, could either be Phnomh Penh’s finest fakes, or bought by Daddy as a farewell present. A tattoo resembling a black blob. Up close it could be a prayer wheel? Slightly orange tan, speckled with white mosquito bite scars, and a large infected scab from that token motorbike accident. Havaina flip flops.

Exhibit 2: The Backpacker Boy

In The Tubing, Vang Vieng, Laos vest. Everyone has floated down the Mekong in a rubber tyre, so everyone just has to buy the vest to prove that they drank too much Lao Lao and almost drowned in the murky river. Neon swim shorts, with Full Moon Party printed across the butt. Casio wrist watch – an Argos cheapie with a button that lights up the screen, or the Vietnamese version. That is, neon, with lots of flashing lights. Neon green plastic aviators – large enough to cover the pink eye that you got tubing. A tattoo in Thai. It says ‘I Love Thailand’. At least that’s what that Thai bird said before it turned out she was a he. And all the Thais crack up when they see it.

And they’re everywhere. I mean like EVERYWHAH.

Now: a typical tale. It was about 7am in Luang Prabang, Laos, the morning after the Dutch had won another world cup match, and I had wished I was wearing orange (having said that, the Dutch are very amenable to letting you forget your English woes and become a Netherlands native for a bit). My sister and I had already abandoned our porridge to make a mad dash back to the hotel toilet, much to our parent’s bemusement. Note – parents are not suitable Gap Yah accessories. Father had pitched up at the match last night, and we’d had to pretend we were on our second Lao Lao cocktail, not our seventh. Luckily for me, that was to be the last of the day’s chundering. My sister was not so fortunate.

An hour or so later, and we were astride an elephant, swaying majestically through the Laos jungle, while the sun burned bright above us through the leaves, and brightly-coloured birds chattered around us. I mean, it really gave us a moving sense of the intricacy and delicacy of the world’s fragile ecosystems. It was like, we were like so small… and the elephant was like, so big.

And then my sister just chundered everywhere. Off the side of an elephant. Impeccable aim, unlike our football team.

To prove you can’t keep a good British girl down, my sister has been on her own Gap Yah odyssey this year, breaking locals’ hearts in salsa bars up and down Latin America. She and her Norwegian partner-in-crime were particular fans of the Peruvian city of Cusco, start of the Inca trail to Macchu Piccu, where one goes to search for the mythical Andean Vomcano.

Back on the trail in Asia, no trip to Thailand is complete without a pilgrimage to that shrine of wankered Westerners – the Full Moon Party on the island of Koh Phangnan. My advice is as follows:

1. Start the night in one of Had Rin’s finest eateries. Pad Thai is just the ticket for lining the stomach, and the endless reruns of Family Guy are perfect for predrinks.

2. Wear a bikini and not much else.You need plenty of skin space to plaster with glo-paint, and you may be sprinting into the waves to take a few tactical chunders. And don´t go out of your depth while drunk – there´s a mean riptide that claims a few Westerners every party season.

3. Don’t be discerning with your drinking.There are over 50 stalls that eloquently differentiate themselves with slogans such as:

SillyFuckingBuckets.
FreeKissFreeSuckySuckyWhenYouBuyFromMeMeLikesWhiteBoys. ExtraHappyHammeredLovingLifeBuckets.

They all sell the same thing, and everything tastes the same after a few glugs anyway. Buy the cheapest 350ml bottle of Thai Rum-skey with Red Bull for that dance ‘til dawn boost, and down from the child’s plastic bucket to your heart’s content.

4. Don’t try to find that ‘fit’ Australian from the Vietnamese pool party. You’ve been there and done that, and with 10,000 people partying on one beach, chances are he’s probably getting with a Swedish girl as we speak. Plus when and where are you going to get a chance to play the ‘how many nationalities in a night’ game again?

5. Pace yourself. My friend made the tragic mistake of peaking too early, and what started out as a tactical chunder turned into falling in the sea to vomit every half hour until dawn. We put her in a tuk-tuk home at 7am where she got distracted by a gentleman who she classified merely as ‘Northern’, and returned to our cabins an hour before the ferry to the mainland.

6. On that note, don’t leave the morning after. The beaches are white and the sea is crystal-clear, so give yourself a chance to enjoy paradise by day. More realistically, you will want to lie in a darkened room for 24 hours.

It’s not all party, party, party though. Well it is, but your itinerary can take in the cultural (and spiritual and political) on the way. You can admire the fabled temples of Cambodia’s Angkor Wat by sunrise, examine the horrors of the War Remnant’s Museum in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam, and the Killing Fields in Phnomh Penh, Cambodia, pick leeches off your legs while scrambling up waterfalls in Laos’ northern jungles, and watch hundreds of Buddhist monks collecting alms at 6am in the elegant, French-colonial streets of Luang Prabang in Laos.

But you’ll probably just want to line your stomachs in preparation for uni, and watery Vietnamese street beer is 10p a pint. After all, where else in the world could you literally chunder off the side of an elephant?

Riot fears spread to Oxford

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American students taking part in an overseas study programme based in Trinity College were reportedly told not to venture outside the college gates on Wednesday night, in case the rioting seen in other parts of the country spread to Oxford. 

Although the porter on duty was unable to confirm this when contacted by Cherwell, the report claimed that those in charge of the programme, which caters for students from four US universities, decided that it was safest to keep all the students within their respective living quarters.

Though Oxford has not yet seen widespread riots like those in the UK’s larger cities, it has experienced several ‘copycat attacks’. 

An attempted arson attack on the Headington branch of McDonald’s took place in the early hours of Tuesday morning, and two youths, aged 18 and 16, have been arrested in connection.

Fires were also lit around Oxford on Tuesday evening. A 48-year-old man was hospitalised after a blaze outside a block of flats in Cowley, a bin in Botley Road and a skip in Mansfield Road were set on fire, and police officers found an Audi A4 in Great Clarendon St with a damaged petrol cap and a rag stuffed into the fuel tank which had been set alight but failed to spread.

Meanwhile, Oxford students have told Cherwell of their experiences in other parts of the country.  Joseph D’Urso, a second year PPE student at New College who lives in Birmingham, described Monday night’s riots in his home town, saying, “a huge number of people gathered, and started rampaging through the city centre, smashing up shops and looting. Public transport was cut at about 10pm and it was impossible to get taxis so the entire inner ring road was like a warzone, poorly policed and with no transport. Looting continued until 3ish.”

Dominic Parikh, a second year at St John’s, spoke of his dismay at seeing images of brutality in a familiar neighbourhood, telling Cherwell, ‘I used to live near and travel through Clapham Junction and it was sickening seeing the area trashed so mindlessly. I was pretty disappointed that there weren’t enough police to do anything more than watch.”

Alex Coupe, an English student at Corpus Christi, described the atmosphere of tension in South London following Monday night’s riots, saying that there is “lots of smashed glass in Brixton and empty shops, a few of which are burnt.”  He added: “it’s just eerily quiet, with most shops in Wimbledon and Tooting closed and shuttered. I saw two guys get off a train with what seemed to be looted computers. A man confronted them, saying, ‘Are you f***ing happy now, greedy p****s?’ That kind of reflects the general mood.”

A second year student at Brasenose who watched violence take place in Ealing in West London on Monday night commented, “What we have here is just a bunch of anarchists trying to get their hands on as much money as possible. I don’t think they have any particular political message”.  He called for a harsh punishment on those involved, insisting, “I really want to see these people humiliated, since they have brought shame to our capital and have brought pain to so many people’s lives.”

James Lawson, President of the Oxford University Conservative Association next term, also refused to ascribe any political motivation to the rioters, commenting, “This has nothing to do with protest and is simply opportunist criminal action: a classic example of the ‘Broken Britain’ the Coalition has to repair.”

Nicola Sugden and Colin Jackson, co-chairs of the Oxford University Labour Club, though condemning the riots as “unnecessarily destructive”, described them as “manifestation of the valid fears many of Britain’s youth have about their futures”.