Sunday 1st February 2026
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‘Funny, sad things’: In conversation with ‘GREYJOY’

Riva Dawar
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‘Funny, sad things’: In conversation with ‘GREYJOY’

GREYJOY is Blackstar Production’s second show, written by Rebecca Harper. Taking a light, sharply comic tone, it grapples with the weighty themes of end-of-life care, sibling relationships, and anticipatory grief with assurance and deftness. Each night features a number of “placed” audience members, cold-reading as one of the play’s doctors – a formal risk which is both playful and fresh. I sat down with Rebecca, Blackstar’s co-founder Tom Onslow, and crew and cast members Zee Obeng, Libby Alldread, and Avani Rao to talk about the show.

Our conversation meanders through the topics of Horrible Histories, American roads, and whether the sea or snow is scarier, before I start the questions proper, beginning with Rebecca’s inspirations for the project. She explains that the cold reading element emerged about halfway through the writing process, “very inspired by a lot of plays with audience interaction. My favourite play is An Oak Tree by Tim Crouch”, which shares GREYJOY’s interest in metatheatre, and “devolves into this thing about grief and performance. I was separately writing about my experience as a medical mock patient, and at some point, the two came together”. As for inspiration for the title, Rebecca teases that “it references the surname of some Game of Thrones characters, you’ll have to watch the show to find out why that’s important!”. Initially called Moonbear, GREYJOY, with its heavy yet hopeful connotations, “picked up a better thread,” being suggestive, slightly ominous, and oddly tender. 

When I ask what drew the rest of the team to the project, Zee, one of the play’s co-stars, responds effusively: “GREYJOY’s script was beautiful. I think that I look for things that are written in a way that I feel moved by, it’s not just the themes but the very way that it’s written. I had to be in it. I couldn’t talk about anything else in the week I auditioned.” 

GREYJOY’s emphasis on rhythm and lightness is palpable even in our brief conversation, not least because of the genuine warmth and affection between the cast and crew. This tonal balance, effortlessly juggling humour and weight, is one of the play’s greatest strengths. Tom explains that the show relies on the cast’s ability to “land a laugh and then go into something really tough. People have to really trust that they can do that, that they’re not going to step on one [by] doing the other. That they work together, a laugh doesn’t discredit a sad moment!” 

Zee has a slightly different take: “It’s like when you’re talking to someone about something [serious], the easiest way is to make it funny. Is that a British thing? I think it’s very human, something we all do, everyday.” Avani, the assistant director, is quick to add that the humour “makes it real, like the characters are actually going through these events – they wouldn’t joke about it if they weren’t”. Rebecca agrees: “Grief brings out some really odd things. I’ve been at some really funny funerals. The things you remember about someone are often funny stories. That’s a nice part of grief to focus on.” 

GREYJOY, at least in part, draws on Rebecca’s own life experiences: “I have three characters who go through different things. Cait’s relationship with her sibling is the most similar to my own – growing up with someone, and being at different stages in life, and having different concerns over time is something that speaks to me in particular.” In terms of the play’s exploration of anticipatory grief, Zee tells me that “as an actor, it’s oddly therapeutic. Working through Cait, her experiences aren’t unique experiences. Being able to put words to it feels very poignant, and I think it could be for the audience too. It’s a play that sparks conversation”. 

With its cold reading element, GREYJOY definitely blurs the lines between actor and audience more than most. Libby, one of the cold readers, explains that “there’ll be less pressure because I’m not going out as an actor, there’s more freedom than in playing a character”. Zee, meanwhile, says that because “the way I play it depends on the person who’s opposite me, I’m thinking a step ahead – it allows me to act like never before. It’s terrifying and exciting. If someone doesn’t read a line in the way that I expect it to, I have to keep going, but I think that adds to it”. Rebecca points out that “ I’m excited to see the moments which make our cold readers uncomfortable, or laugh. That’s part of the fun of it, representative of how people go into these medical exams in real life. There’s a sort of pre-established social script to follow, you interact with it as it comes.” The cold readers, then, function as a hyper-surrogate for the audience. Tom says that they hope the cold readers “play a game with it. When you’ve learned lines, you need to find pockets where you keep the performance fresh – hopefully the cold readers do that automatically”.

I’ve been greatly enjoying the GREYJOY marketing, which has encapsulated the dry, witty humour that the play promises, and teased various references within the script. Tom assures me that this is something the play comes by naturally, offering up an anecdote wherein Rebecca hung up a call quoting Shakira’s “whenever, wherever”. Zee tells me that her favourite reference from the script is to Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, where “one of the characters says something like ‘I used to think I was Violet Baudelaire, but I’m probably Count Olaf’”. Tom and Rebecca both pick a reference to Tim Curry, which also draws on Blackstar’s previous show, Teen Spirit. When asking what they think connects Blackstar’s shows, I’m told that the “Blackstar constitution [is]: gay, siblings, grief. We call it the GSG model! What else – bad accents, quite dry, people apologise too much. You explain it to people, say it’s funny, and they ask ‘is it really, though?’”. Libby informs me that Rebecca’s modus operandi is “funny, sad things”, which GREYJOY certainly seems to fit with confidence and charm.

My final question is medical, to match the show. If GREYJOY had a warning label, or list of side effects, what would it say? “Uncontrollable laughter”, “might cause tummy pain”, “heartstring palpitation”, “thoughts of your sister”, “white room syndrome”. To those of you coming to see GREYJOY, be prepared!

GREYJOY will run at the Michael Pilch Studio in Week Two, 28th – 31st January. 

Dressed the part: Dark academia at Oxford

Cerys Bennison
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Dressed the part: Dark academia at Oxford

Another Oxford Hilary, the term of bleak midwinter. Utterly bereft of Christmas sparkle, the season forces us to focus on our studies, with libraries becoming a refuge as the weather worsens. Reflecting Oxford’s heritage as a romanticised stronghold of academic tradition, the style of dark academia, while it helps us to ward off the worst of the seasonal chills, hints at the class politics underpinning the University. It is an aesthetic rooted in male-dominated institutions of wealth and knowledge, much like the iconic ‘sub-fusc’ academic dress.

The unfortunate stereotypes are not entirely inaccurate here, with the tweed-clad, bespectacled professor cast as this season’s unexpected fashion icon. Romanticisation meets subversion, with Pinterest boards collating a mixture of aesthetics and influences: Victoriana, Claudia Winkleman on The Traitors, and Donna Tartt’s The Secret History. Through its long wool overcoats dark academia presents us with a fiction of a past Oxford, but one that illuminates an ecologically sensitive approach for the future.

Glorifying the library as a fortress of knowledge, the dark academia colour palette comes straight from the half-lit gloom of the Duke Humfrey’s: rosewood, burnished leather, and aged manuscript pages imbue tweeds and corduroy trousers with their tones. This style is built on the fantasy of an ‘old money’ lineage, as with much at Oxford. Artfully shabby, dark academia glorifies not only the pursuit of knowledge, but also its privilege, one which has historically been afforded to male circles in the upper echelons of society. Although it is an aesthetic adopted by many today, the masculine tailoring of dark academia’s key garments – Oxford shirts, bags, and brogues – reflects the University’s historical cohort of wealthy, white men. Age, in this instance, is an accolade, displaying both Oxford’s prestige and that of the individual wearer through an exclusionary fostering of ‘Englishness’.

Although it does nothing to brighten the leaden British skies, dark academia’s earthy tones imply a connection to land as property. Its iconography is tied to archetypes of the English country house, only minorly adjusted from the garments worn for a weekend hunting party. Tweed originated as a practical material for rural workers, made from their own flocks. English estate tweeds, however, emerged in the Victorian era as variations on the classic plaid. They circumvented the disrespect of wearing clan tartan when English aristocracy was increasingly purchasing impoverished Scottish estates. Crisp shirts were paired with straggly scarves, battered overcoats, and round glasses. Affiliations with the ‘Sloane Ranger’ (that horsey paradigm of upper-class affluence) run deep, but given dark academia’s hand in imaging Oxford’s male exclusivity, signet rings eclipse Granny’s pearls as choice embellishment. Yet, at least they are already in the family jewellery safe, hardly a non-recyclable purchase from a high street brand with suspiciously opaque sustainability policies. Dark academia fashion also encourages deeper environmental consciousness, with an emphasis on material traceability and high-quality, small-scale craftsmanship, especially important in an age where fast fashion titans indulge our willingness to trade conscience for convenience. No one adopting it would be caught dead wearing a crackly polyester hybrid – dark academia fashion prioritises hand-me-downs, vintage and natural materials, making it a style of timeless transgression. 

Few fully-suited, brogue-wearing tutors remain in Oxford – arguably for the better, considering the discriminatory foundations of dark academia style. However, this makes it ripe for a subversive rebrand: its dandyish decorum is adopted to challenge heteronormativity, with women wearing it to walk to the Bodleian as visibly as men. It is evident that Oxbridge remains most accessible to the upper class (apparently intending to stay that way, if Cambridge’s ‘reverse discrimination’ admissions are anything to go by). Undeniably, dark academia style is tied to this, with the sourcebook based on a wealthy, white, and male vision of academia – a triple threat indeed. Yet this is exactly what makes it ideal for reconstitution, satirising and subverting the exclusionary English education system from the foundations, and ultimately diversifying Oxford’s image through wider, personal stylisation.

Joshua Robey: Taking Company to the Oxford Playhouse

Lauren Lendrevie
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Joshua Robey: Taking Company to the Oxford Playhouse

Joshua Robey is a name that has quickly been gaining traction in that very particular bubble that is the Oxford University Drama Society (OUDS), the heart of Oxford’s theatre scene. From sold-out runs to glowing Peter Kessler reviews, his first-year directorial debut was not one to be missed. A DPhil student specializing in contemporary theatre, he made the most of Oxford drama from the get-go, and, having already staged productions in the Pilch, O’Reilly and Burton Taylor Studio, he’s now left with the showstopper: the Oxford Playhouse. Yet the challenge is doubled for Joshua who has also chosen to step out of his comfort zone by taking on a musical – and none other than Stephen Sondheim’s Company. In a small room tucked away in Worcester College, I sat down with him to discuss his journey into theatre, the singularities of OUDS, and the exclusive details of his upcoming production.

Joshua’s interest in drama was one born out of his early theatre-going experience. At 17, he was struck by a number of outstanding London productions, and he cherishes a particularly vivid memory of watching The Writer, a play he directed last year: “It completely changed what I thought theatre could be. It was so alive and political and funny and exciting and that really hooked me in.” Though subsequently interested in directing, COVID entered stage in the middle of his undergraduate degree, and it was only upon returning for a Master’s at Cambridge that Joshua was able to try his hand. Interestingly though, he also wrote a “comic operetta” during that time, but when I ask if he would ever stage a play of his own, he describes himself as “a little bit allergic” to his own writing. “I only want to do a play if I really believe in it and I think it’s that act of belief that’s really hard when you’re working with your own work.” Though Joshua had long wanted to be a writer, through directing, he discovered an alternative form of creativity better suited to him: “I think some people’s brains work well with a blank page and some people’s brains work well with material that you can then play around with and reshape. I love thinking about how you can creatively add to something that exists. You have something that works as a text but then needs to be translated to a physical space and I love doing that.”

Despite his attraction to the act of iteration, Joshua has developed an approach to directing that is itself unique. He does the sound design for most of his productions and emphasises its importance in his early brainstorming: “I think it’s where I personally find a lot of feeling in a show. Even yesterday, when I was thinking quite a bit about a show I might want to do at some point in the future, all of the ideas I started with were sound. And then the next thing I was doing was thinking, what might it look like? How might it physically sit in space? It’s the order I often go in. Sometimes you just need the absence of sound: you need the spareness, but often it is that you just need a heartbeat to the play and that’s what the sound will give you.” Joshua’s recent staging of Uncle Vanya is testament to this fact, with the addition of contemporary songs played by the bard (Oli Spooner) representing one of the most unique elements of the production.

Josh’s interaction with his actors is also distinctive. Prior to the interview, I sat in on a Company rehearsal and, as I later told him, his background in English Literature became very quickly apparent. Heavily text-centred and discursive, the rehearsal reminded me of my own English classes, as each actor seemed to advocate for their own singular understanding of the musical. The investment in the text was undeniable and, in many ways, it felt like watching a debate unfold in parallel to the scene. “I definitely want rehearsals to be led by dialogue. I think it’s so important that actors are able to ask questions and explore things because if they don’t feel able to ask questions they’re just going to sit on things and then you’re going to see that but find it hard to fix. So I think it’s really important that your cast feel able and empowered to ask questions. That approach to text in rehearsals is something more typical in plays but that I brought across to Company because I think it’s really important.”

Joshua describes his transition from directing plays to a musical as, in part, a personal challenge. “I had this vision of myself, and I think other people probably did as well, as someone who wouldn’t really do a musical. So I thought, ‘Well, lean into the perversity of that. What would a musical that I direct look like?’ And I think, in some ways, I was inspired by the kind of deconstructed musical that is quite common in London at the moment. You have Oklahoma at the Young Vic in the West End; that was quite a radical unworking of some of the potential problems it creates for audiences. And then, Jamie Lloyd’s Sunset Boulevard as well is a really expressionistic take on the original show. So that sort of gave me an arrow in the right direction of where I might go with a musical.

And then I was considering what would connect with a student audience in a way that was interesting. I was drawn to Company because, when I first read and listened to it, I thought, ‘This is about someone who is at a stage of life where they need to grow up’. I thought there was something really resonant between students and someone like Bobby who’s 35, entering an early midlife crisis and feels he’s not quite grown up. At university, there’s this constant churn of people coming in and out and something about that late third year, and postgraduate experience which I’m coming at it from, involves thinking, ‘Am I ready to take that next step?’. That really felt resonant in a kind of abstract way in Company and I thought it was a feeling worth exploring.”

Keen to experiment with more “expressionistic takes on shows” this year, Joshua explains how he chose to take a non-literal approach to staging Company. He first describes the set, cryptically, as “an open arena in which there are things that are not actually in the play.” I sense his reluctance to disclose a secret that has clearly long been on his mind as he gradually reveals his creative vision: “We started with the themes of the show and the idea of play. As a result, we started thinking a lot about playground equipment and, eventually, we ended up with the aesthetic of an indoor soft play centre. Hopefully, the audience will be able to see that kind of unmoored relation between what’s happening in the real scenes and what’s happening in this abstract space where this musical is taking place. Our set designer, Holly Rust, is designing a really wonderful, really wonderful space for us on these two levels, with a slide that will hopefully be full of character while chiming very closely with the themes in our interpretation.”

Outside of realising an ambitious set design, the production company must also navigate the Playhouse’s own unique challenges. Joshua explains that, in comparison with his earlier Oxford productions, Company has required far more logistical planning. Blocking is to be communicated with Playhouse lighting designers and technicians, necessitating significant foresight, whilst designing the set involves an early review of budgeting and safety checks. For Joshua, who seeks to pursue directing beyond Oxford, this presents a learning opportunity: “It means that you need to work out what you’re doing quite early and it gives you less scope for that sort of in-the-room inspiration. It’s a very worthwhile challenge because it is more how theatre operates outside of a student context: there’s flexibility but you have to plan what you’re doing quite far in advance.” Joshua has also found Oxford’s production company model, distinct from Cambridge’s system, to have borne its fruit, and describes it providing significant financial and marketing freedom.

When discussing the more general Oxford drama scene, however, Joshua explains that he is somewhat on the fringes of OUDS. “I do OUDS shows by dint of that’s what people call it here. I don’t feel like I’m recruiting from within OUDS, I feel like I’m recruiting from within Oxford students.” OUDS, technically a society, is often under scrutiny. Whilst a real community for many, some find it to be unwittingly exclusive and, as we discuss its stereotypes, Joshua touches on the challenges of casting within such a tight-knit talent pool: “I think what is definitely true is that there could be ways of getting more people into theatre in the first place. When you’re an actor, you are reliant on whether people cast you. I’ve spoken to actors who auditioned for loads of things and got nothing. And that is tricky. There are also a lot of people who do a lot of shows. I don’t have a solution to any of this, but I think that is probably true.”

On the other hand, what Joshua finds increasingly exciting within OUDS is “a resurgence of people doing contemporary theatre and really interesting plays”. He sees plays written in the last ten years as an ideal starting point for student drama. Though many perform classics at Oxford, in part due to the barrier of copyright fees for more modern works, Joshua contends that, in many ways, you “get more out of it if you’re directing a play where you’re connected to its cultural context; you can then take that and explore it in interesting directions.”

Finally, with Company’s show run imminently approaching, I ask Joshua what the ideal outcome for a production looks like to him: “I guess it comes from audience experience. I think that’s maybe what I’m looking for. I think the measure of success of a show is based on whether the audience felt or thought in interesting ways – and I think, I maybe lean towards the feeling more than the thinking. It doesn’t have to be prescriptive, it doesn’t mean they all need to feel the same thing. But they do need to feel something. I think that’s so important.”

Company, by Fennec Fox Productions, is running from the 28th-31st January 2026 at The Oxford Playhouse

Why Building Muscle Takes Time and How to Speed Up the Process

External Contributor
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The constant effort, proper nutrition, and patience are the keys to long-term muscle gain. Many question, “how long does it take to build muscle?” The solution lies in genes, the strenuousness of training, and nutrition yet typically it takes weeks or months. Progressive stimulus is needed to challenge and strengthen muscles in building muscle. Protein consumption and recovery is also significant. Building muscle sustainably is time and commitment to exercise requires a lifestyle.

One of the most common myths of muscle growth is that the gains can be achieved within a short time by doing minimum effort. Most of the individuals believe in fast transformations or materials that accelerate the process and often wonder does testosterone help build muscle. Nevertheless, building muscle is not fast and easy. Have attainable expectations with a kick off to prevent disappointments and to be motivated. Rapid muscular gain is frequently overestimated by genetics, proper training and regular feeding. Learning that gradual and steady progression is the norm may make people concentrate on long-term fitness instead of the unattainable aspirations.

Understanding Muscle Growth Basics

Resistance training and proper diet are necessary to build the muscle by expanding the muscle fibres and making them stronger. This growth is caused by hypertrophy – muscle fibre increase caused by stress and adaptation. Myofibril hypertrophy makes muscle fibres stronger whereas sarcoplasmic hypertrophy enhances muscular energy storage and development. To develop muscle, there should be a balance between size and strength. Though larger muscles typically translate to greater strength, there are training programs that focus on brute power as opposed to observable increase. This difference on how long does it take to build muscle describes the way individuals train towards certain fitness objectives.

Muscular adaptation is based on the hypertrophic reaction of the body to the stress. Resistance exercise results in microscopic damage of muscle fibres. This injury is healed in the body by fusing of fibres, which give the body strength and growth. The development of muscles relies on genetics that influence muscle fibre type, levels of hormones and their level of recovery. Genetics make some individuals gain muscles more quickly, whereas some individuals require longer to gain muscle even with exercise. This raises the issue, “how long does it take to build muscle?” This is determined by the level of training, nutrition, and genetics, although in most cases muscle growth begins after 8-12 weeks of continuous exercise, and it is important to be patient and follow an individualised strategy.

Realistic Expectations for Muscle Building

Under a consistent strength training program and proper nutrition many beginners gain 1-2 pounds of muscles every month. Intermediate weight lifters require more time to make improvement as the bodies adapt to the increased demands. Repeated workouts and specific rest can assist such a population in realising the best results. When asked “how long does it take to build muscle,” the answer depends on training experience, genetics, diet, and consistency, but knowing the fitness level timetables can help set realistic goals and stay motivated.

Advanced trainees build muscle slower due to the fact that their bodies have adapted to years of continuous training and are more in touch with their genetic potential. The rule of diminishing returns holds as individuals gain their muscle-building optimum. The intensity of training, the change of exercises, recovery plans, and nutrition accuracy are more vital toward improvement. Advanced lifters can employ progressive loading, periodisation, and advanced recovery procedures to boost muscular growth and observe sleep and stress. Consideration of specific cycles of results can also be determined like hypertrophy vs. strength so as to get out of plateau to cause new adaptation.

Why Building Muscle Takes Time

Biological limitations of the body influence the recovery and repair mechanism of the body during physical exercise. These restrictions centre on the recovery and repair cycle that mends micro-tears in muscle fibres that occur as a result of intense activity. The cycle replenishes strength and induces muscular hypertrophy and development. Reuperation, however, is influenced by age, nutrition, quality of sleep and intensity of training. How long does it take to build muscle? Training and rest should be balanced to be able to maximise body growth responsibly.

Hormones are required in muscle growth and physical development. Testosterone, growth hormone and IGF-1 influence muscular protein synthesis, muscle recovery and muscular strength gain. These hormones are beneficial to growth, and only consistency can lead to long-term achievement. Rapid solutions and non-sustainable methods may bring frustration and exhaustion. Rather, the systematic and balanced approach with periodic training, proper diet, and proper rest yields continuous, stable growth. Remarkable changes come because of persistence and determination.

Key Factors That Determine Muscle-Building Speed

Training Experience Level

How long does it take to build muscle? New trainees experience quicker rates of muscle-growth, (known as newbie gains), as their bodies react quickly to a fresh stimulus. Nonetheless, individuals who have had a long experience in training might improve gradually because their muscles have adapted to a particular level of stress that more tactical changes in training are needed to motivate growth. One can influence performance through training methods, consistency and recuperation processes hence the need to tailor workouts to level of experience.

Age and Gender Differences

Substances such as testosterone and growth hormone which decrease with age promote a higher growth in muscular conduct in younger individuals. Males build muscle more rapidly than females since they have high levels of testosterone that help build proteins and repair muscles. No matter the gender, continuous exercise and proper food can help ladies build muscle.

Body Type and Genetics

The body type and genetics dictate how long does it take to build muscle. It is easier to build muscles among mesomorphic (muscular and athletic) individuals than it is among ectomorphic (leaner) or endomorphic (heavier) individuals. The genetic factors such as muscle fibre composition, the level of hormones and the structure of the bones also influence the rate of muscle-building. All these are factors that cannot be controlled by anyone but since one understands their influence then they can be able to establish realistic targets and enhance training strategies.

Nutrition Quality and Quantity

Muscle repair and muscle growth are stimulated by a balanced diet that contains high-quality proteins, complex carbs, healthy fats, and essential vitamins and minerals. Protein is important as it supplies the muscles with amino acids. A caloric excess is also essential in the building of muscle hence food quantity is also important. The most important thing to consider is to ensure that nutrition is taken after exercise and during the day to improve recovery and growth. The dieting and building of the muscle are mutually dependent as the hardest workouts can be ineffective without proper nutrition.

Sleep and Stress Management

The balance between sleep and stress management also affects how long does it take to build muscle. Deep sleep is required in the body to facilitate the repair of tissues and production of growth hormones, which are important in the growth and development of muscles. On the other hand, the sustained stress may elevate the cortisol which is retarding the development of muscles. To achieve the best muscular development, body stress management methods such as mindfulness, meditation, or frequent relaxation should be integrated.

How to Speed Up the Muscle-Building Process

Muscle-building is an effort that requires determination, nutrition, and organization. A balanced exercise program must be concerned with progressive overload – stressing your muscles with hardened weights or repetitions. The compound exercises such as squats, deadlifts, and bench presses enhance expansion of the muscles. Consumption of sufficient, and quality proteins such as lean meat, eggs or plant sources will ensure your body has the building blocks it requires to recover and rebuild muscle. When asked “how long does it take to build muscle,” genetics, consistency, and nutrition vary. Results tend to be realized after 8-12 weeks of diligent effort and an individually tailored course of action.

Enhance the intensity of training but with safety in mind in order to increase muscle building. Progressive overload issues and builds muscles without injury through a gradual increase in volume, weight, or intensity. Keep your body safe and sound through proper warm-ups, shape and rest. Also, tracking calories and macronutrients will make sure that your diet is following your fitness objective. Caloric excess of the adequate protein, carbohydrates, and fat spurs exercises, enhances recovery, and creates muscle. A vigorous, well-organised exercise coupled with proper diet maximises the outcomes and is sustained.

Between halls and helplines: Oxford’s eating disorder culture

Leo Jones
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Between halls and helplines: Oxford’s eating disorder culture

CW: Eating disorders

Do you ever look around and think everyone is perfect? Attractive, fashionable, sporty, academic, musical – the list of Oxford students’ well-rounded talents can seem endless. At a university consistently ranked first in the world, excellence isn’t just encouraged; it’s expected. But beneath the polished CVs, regimented routines, and curated images of success lies a quieter pressure: to control, refine, and shrink in pursuit of an ever-moving ideal.

In an environment where discipline is praised and comparison is unavoidable, conversations around food, bodies, and health can easily slip into something darker. From casual calorie talk to hyper-fixation on exercise and productivity, eating disorder culture often hides in plain sight – normalised, and even celebrated. Behaviours that might raise alarm elsewhere are reframed as dedication, self-control, or simply ‘coping’ with the demands of Oxford life.

In recent years, concerns about eating disorders among students have grown, raising questions about how well Oxford is equipped to respond. While the University promotes a range of welfare services, from college-based support to NHS provision across the city, students’ experiences of accessing help are often fragmented, delayed, or unfulfilling.

Long waiting lists, unclear pathways, and an emphasis on self-advocacy can leave those most at risk slipping through the cracks. And when high achievement masks high risk, the question remains: who is really being looked after?

Eating disorders in Oxford

According to a 2016 survey organised by the Student Union, at least 1,200 people at the University of Oxford were struggling with an eating disorder – figures which only include those who felt able to speak out. For a condition widely acknowledged to be under-reported, particularly among high-functioning individuals, this number alone suggests a far broader issue embedded within the student body.

Since then, pandemics, politics, and global instability have only intensified existing pressures. Lockdowns disrupted routines and access to support, online learning blurred the boundaries between work and rest, and widespread uncertainty heightened anxiety around control and stability. 

The correlation between eating disorders and stress is already well-established, and at an institution like Oxford – layered with academic intensity, social comparison, and recent global upheaval – those risk factors are compounded. Oxford Centre for Eating Disorders sees this pattern in its patients. The private clinic told Cherwell that “many patients we see are high achievers and perfectionistic”, adding that “the pressures of their studies can be very challenging”. This combination – ambition paired with vulnerability – is particularly acute in an environment that rewards endurance and downplays visible struggle.

It is clear that this issue is particularly prevalent at the University of Oxford. The Centre estimated to Cherwell that “30-40% of our patients are students – the majority from Oxford University rather than Brookes”. With such a significant overlap between the student population and professional services in the city, the line between “student welfare” and “local healthcare provision” becomes increasingly blurred. It also raises pressing questions about how responsibility is shared  – or deferred – between institutions, especially when treatment costs themselves become an immediate and exclusionary barrier for many students.

Must the University do more?

 It is increasingly clear that more coordination between the University and external healthcare providers would play a crucial role in improving support. While the Centre confirmed that a recent Q&A session was held for college nurses in an effort to improve frontline support, they told Cherwell that “we did used to have links to the University’s counselling service, but less so in recent years”.

Oxford University Counselling Service (UCS) positions itself as a first point of contact for students facing a wide range of personal difficulties. However, its website also warns of a clear limit to the support it can offer: “If you need longer or more specialised therapeutic treatments to help you address psychological difficulties then you will need to be referred to the appropriate NHS medical, psychological or psychiatric services.”For those with eating disorders, NHS referral often appears less as a solution but rather the start of another exhausting process. Students describe long waiting lists, impersonal administrative systems, and a sense that continuity of care is lacking – particularly for those who have already navigated NHS mental health services at home. 

One second-year student recalled waiting three years for regular sessions under NHS services in the South East. During this time, they described “constant requestioning about the nature of my issues for ‘admin purposes’ – essentially retelling my life story to an unenthusiastic counsellor who merely provided the same responses. It felt like an endless cycle – one that I did not want to start again at uni”.

Past local data does little to reassure students with similar concerns. A May 2021briefing from NHS Oxford Health reported expected waiting times of 18 months for NICE-concordant intervention (National Institute for Health and Care Excellence) for individuals with “severe and high-risk” eating disorders. Those assessed as having “moderate severity” were expected to wait up to 24 months. For a condition where early intervention is widely recognised as critical, such delays raise serious questions about whether existing pathways are fit for a transient, high-pressure student population.The same applies on a college level, where welfare provision is often presented as a cornerstone of student support. Pembroke College told Cherwell that it offers a wide “rangeof welfare and wellbeing services” tailored to individual circumstances, including those struggling with eating disorders. Students are able to access one-to-one support from members of the welfare team, described by Pembroke as consisting of “our Welfare Lead, our Student Support and Wellbeing Tutor, the Chaplain, the Junior Deans, our Academic Office team including a Disability Coordinator, JCR and MCR Welfare Representatives, and student peer supporters”. 

Yet while this network appears extensive on paper, its function in cases of eating disorders is largely intermediary. Pembroke noted that support typically involves listening, monitoring, and signposting – assisting students in navigating appointments with college-linked GPs, University-wide services such as the Counselling Service, and NHS provision. Colleges may liaise with external providers where appropriate, but they do not offer treatment themselves.

This distinction is echoed across the collegiate University. Lincoln College told Cherwell: “Students have full access to our welfare provision but in the case of an eating disorder, we would normally expect to refer to an appropriate medical professional(s). Their primary treatment would be by a medical professional.”

However, in practice, responsibility for care is often transferred rapidly from colleges to external services, most commonly the NHS, which faces well-documented delays in accessing specialist eating disorder treatment as a result of chronic underfunding and systemic strain. During these prolonged waiting periods, students remain embedded in the intense academic and social environment of Oxford, yet may receive little structured support beyond monitoring, check-ins, and signposting. The result is not a failure of individual colleges, but a wider systemic gap in which students find themselves caught between services – acknowledged as unwell, but unable to access timely, meaningful treatment. 

As eating disorder culture becomes evermore prevalent  the question is not whether pathways exist, but whether a system built on referral rather than continuity can adequately meet the needs of students for whom delay is itself a big risk factor.

A particularly pernicious environment

Oxford is an environment where everything is dialed up to 10; a ‘work hard play hard’ culture that can exacerbate disordered eating.  In a university where food is woven tightly into social life – from catered accommodation and formal halls to kebabs after a night out – eating is rarely a private act. Meals are communal and often highly visible. For students struggling with eating disorders, this can make it feel as though the battle never ends, played out repeatedly in public spaces where absence, refusal, or deviation is immediately noticed.

For those affected, the pressure to eat dessert at a formal, drink an extra pint, or finish the night with a cheesy chips can be deafening. While re-feeding may be clinically beneficial in the short term, it is often followed by intense grief, guilt, or anxiety.

These feelings can be all-consuming, bleeding into academic work, friendships, and rest, and leaving little mental space for recovery. Over time, many students describe retreating from social settings altogether, gravitating instead towards isolation – one of the few environments where food can be avoided, controlled, or simply not discussed. In a university that prizes endurance and self-mastery, the capacity to function while unwell can be mistaken for success. High achievement becomes a mask, concealing behaviours that might otherwise prompt concern, and allowing eating disorders to persist unnoticed or unchallenged.

This withdrawal can be easily misread within Oxford’s culture of independence and self-discipline. Skipped meals are normalised by busy timetables; excessive exercise is reframed as productivity; weight loss is quietly praised as evidence of ‘control’. In such an environment, behaviours associated with eating disorders are not only obscured but, at times, inadvertently rewarded. The line between health, discipline, and harm becomes blurred, particularly when ambition and aspiration echo the same language as illness.

Yet the consequences of this culture are cumulative. Isolation deepens distress; delayed intervention worsens outcomes; and a fragmented support system struggles to respond to students who appear, on the surface, to be coping. When social life is structured around food and institutional support is structured around referral, students with eating disorders are left navigating both constant exposure and limited protection.

One first-year student at The Queen’s College said: “The constant conflict between feeling able to enjoy what are meant to be ‘the best years of my life’ at a university that I have worked so hard to get into, versus the frustratingly never-ending temptation of the eating disorder voice is so exhausting.” Another told Cherwell: “It’s like I know the demands of that voice are bad, but the perfectionist culture I am surrounded by means I cannot have a problem — I don’t have time to have a problem.” They pointed to the University’s hustle culture as a reason to “just keep going – and struggling”. 

What can be done?

As Oxford continues to celebrate its reputation for excellence, the question remains whether it is willing to examine the cultural and structural conditions that make recovery so difficult. Addressing rising eating disorder culture requires more than expanding services; it demands a reckoning with how ambition, social life, and success are defined, and who is left behind when those definitions go unchallenged.

Undeniably, supporting a 26,000-strong student body is a formidable task. Yet, as discussions around harmful body ideals resurface – from media-reported returns of ‘heroin-chic’ to pervasive social pressures – Oxford faces a pivotal moment of reflection. This is not only about expanding services or improving referral systems, but about examining the everyday culture that shapes students’ relationship with food, bodies, and achievement. 

Addressing this issue requires more than policy; it demands attention to the small, often overlooked pressures embedded in academic, social, and collegiate life – pressures that, cumulatively, determine whether support systems are effective or whether students are left navigating high-risk spaces alone.

Support is out there, and recovery is possible – however incompatible it may seem with the already extraordinarily intense academic environment of Oxford. In a university where intensity is normalised and vulnerability can feel like a liability, change does not always begin with formal interventions alone.It can start quietly, in everyday moments: in the way we speak with friends about food and our bodies, in the willingness to check in rather than compare, and in the act of making space for a whole person – alongside their achievements. In an environment shaped by pressure, those small acts of care can be powerful, reminding students that survival is not the same as success, and that asking for help is not a failure, but a form of resilience.

Jane Harris, Co-Director of Student Welfare and Support Services and Head of Counselling at the University of Oxford, told Cherwell: “There are a wide range of national and local sources of information and support, including student specific resources, alongside various forms of College and University support. All students are encouraged to speak to their college GP or nurse in the first instance, in addition to registering with Student Welfare and Support Services. The Counselling service offers a range of resources as well as help in ensuring students can access the support and services appropriate to their individual situation. More practical support, if appropriate, may be available from the Disability Advisory Service, where the management of a long-term Eating Disorder is the priority for the purposes of supporting the students’ studies.”

Editor’s note: If you or someone you know is affected by eating disorders or disordered eating, support is available. Alongside college welfare teams and the University Counselling Service, you can also reach out to specialist charities such as Beat Eating Disorders, whose helpline is available Monday to Friday from 3pm to 8pm.

If you are in need of urgent help or medical advice for yourself or someone else, please contact 999, or the Samaritans on 116 123 if you or someone else is in immediate danger. For medical advice, you can also contact your GP or NHS 111.

Beat Eating Disorders: 0808 801 0677 (England) | [email protected]

Conor Niland on the space between Centre Court and obscurity

Gavriella Epstein-Lightman
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Conor Niland on the space between Centre Court and obscurity

Conor Niland returns Serena Williams’ serve. He’s sweating. She’s unruffled. He’s desperately trying to play his best tennis. She’s having a casual hit. She crunches a forehand into the corner. He reaches for it but just misses. Then the practice is over, and they both depart the court. A fleeting encounter with stardom.

With his characteristic wry humour, Niland interrupts this moment with an interjection from reality.  “When I was practicing with Serena at 16, she was already top 20 in the world”, he tells me, “whereas I was still at school in England and I had no clue whether I was going to be 1,000 in the world or 200”. 

Conor Niland is a former tennis player and author of the book The Racket: On Tour with Tennis’ Golden Generation and the other 99%, which tells the story of his professional tennis career. It is unlike other sports biographies in that its subject was not a generational star or a multi-Grand Slam winner. That’s the point. Niland’s book fills a gap in the genre, telling the story of those who don’t quite reach the very top. The book isn’t a study in failure; it’s an exploration of the psychological reality of competing in elite sport. No other book quite captures the relentless, monotonous grind of being a lower ranked tennis player; that sense of stretching for dreams that are tantalisingly close but just out of reach. An extra ten miles per hour on his serve, groundstrokes landing mere centimetres deeper in the court, a deftly disguised drop shot – small margins – and perhaps Niland’s dreams might have been realised.

I open my discussion with Niland with a discussion of the book itself. It wasn’t ghostwritten, as most sports biographies are – it was a literary collaboration with writer Gavin Clooney. Niland wrote large parts of the book himself. “That’s the key part of it”, Niland emphasised, “I have a degree in English from Berkeley. I think it lends an interiority and an immediacy to the writing, the fact that I’m able to express myself”. His book has a literary ambition, something that’s clear from just leafing through it. Niland himself wrote one of the most poignant passages of the book, which describes him and his dad leaving Kyoto after the final match of his career. It was “before the cherry blossom began to bloom. It seemed fitting: the Challenger Tour always felt a little out of season; the show happened somewhere else”.

I ask Niland why there is such a dearth of biographical writing from those who were not stars. I bring up the public misconceptions about the tennis rankings and he quickly concurs. “It’s something that’s frustrated me my whole life, people’s lack of understanding of the ranking system in tennis”, he says. “If you hear somebody’s 150 in the world, you’ll have people who almost think that they are a part-time player.” An expression of incredulity crosses his face, and one can’t blame him – it must be difficult to have worked your whole life at something only to be underestimated. “Hopefully the book has played a small role in educating people”, he adds.

Our conversation turns towards Niland’s early years. When did tennis become more than a hobby? When did it become a professional endeavour? “It was always the number one thing in my life, tennis, even more than school”, Niland says, his passion for the sport evident. Tennis ran in his family – Niland’s sister Gina remains the best female tennis player Ireland ever had, playing at Junior Wimbledon when he was eight. His father also constructed a tennis court in the backyard. With intensive practice, Niland soon became one of the best players in Ireland.

It was at the 1994 Winter Cup that Niland played a twelve year old Roger Federer. I ask Niland if he noticed anything different about Federer, any transcendent quality that earmarked him for success. Niland explains that, earlier in the tournament, he had played the Swiss number one, Jun Kato: “I really felt like I was totally outclassed.” Playing Federer was different – and not because it was harder. Precisely the opposite. “All of a sudden, I was like, okay, this guy’s more my level”, Niland says, breaking into laughter. “Which is really funny, obviously, because nobody’s heard of lots of guys who were at the junior level.” Few have heard of Jun Kato – a quick Google search reveals that his career peaked at a world ranking of 367 in 2003. Niland far surpassed his former junior vanquisher. Yet Kato is far from an anomaly: countless prodigious juniors find that early promise proves stubbornly difficult to convert into sustained success.

It was playing on the big stages of junior tennis that truly eroded Niland’s confidence. When he was eight, he dreamed of winning Wimbledon. By the time he was twelve, crashing out in the first round of tournaments to juniors who were levels ahead, his mindset had radically changed, as Niland writes he now simply  “dreamed of one day playing at Wimbledon”. I ask Niland if he believes this realism freed or limited him. He takes me aback with the immediacy and conviction of his answer. “It limited me”, he asserts emphatically, “I think I even downgraded my ambition from that, to accepting that I wasn’t going to play in Wimbledon. I probably lacked a bit of belief”. 

Niland’s honesty is a refreshing break from the norm of sport biographies, which are often exercises in reputation management: rigidly PR-controlled and overly cautious. His bluntness is also a reminder that the inspirational stories of stratospheric success are, unfortunately, divorced from reality. For every Serena Williams there are thousands of unknowns who never realise their youthful aspirations.

If Niland thought junior competition was hard, he was about to find out how much more challenging senior tennis would be. After studying English Literature at the University of Berkeley in California, where he was a star of college tennis, it was time to try out the professional ranks. Travelling week after week to far-flung places. No coach. Jetlag. Exhaustion. New conditions. All whilst trying to produce your best tennis. “A very, very unusual kind of way of life”, Niland describes it, with the look of a man momentarily bewildered by the life he once lived.

Starting out in the professional ranks, Niland competed in the Futures Tour, the lowest rung of the ladder. In the book, he describes the tour as a “vast netherworld of more than 2,000 true prospects and hopeless dreamers”. Could he tell if his opponent had what it takes to ascend the rankings hierarchy? “You could usually tell from three courts away”, Niland replies quickly. “You didn’t even need to play them.”. The weight of shot, the athleticism, the technique – all was evident from afar.

Chronicling the struggles of life on tour, desperate to break through, Niland demonstrates an almost unsettling level of self-awareness about his role within the tennis hierarchy. “I think the strongest parts of the book are where I’m kind of the fly on the wall”, he says, “nobody even sees that I’m there, but I’m sort of showing you that world”. Niland points to a key part from his book as an example of this. At an Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP) tournament in San Jose, Andre Agassi, a multiple Grand Slam champion, was the big name. Sitting in the player’s lounge, Niland watched as Agassi walked past, “surrounded by a gaggle of tournament organisers”, each of them earnestly asking if they could assist him at all. Agassi asked for some water, which was quickly provided, even though he was standing next to a fridge full of bottled water. That sight of Agassi “besieged by help” stayed with Niland. The brief moment seemed to him to be emblematic of the divergent lives lived by the stars and the strivers of the sport: the former travel with an entourage, their every need indulged; the latter travel alone, grappling with the isolation of the itinerant lifestyle.

Niland’s book builds to a climax towards the end, when he finally reaches the destination of his dreams: Wimbledon. A slew of impressive results – including a rare tournament victory – had put him at a career high ranking of 129 in the world, meaning he could enter the qualifying rounds of the most prestigious event in tennis. After winning two qualifying rounds, Niland was one win away from his first grand slam main draw. All that stood between him and his dreams was Nikola Mektic, from Croatia. Niland cruised to a dominant lead, staving off a bout of nerves in the closing stages to seal the victory. Then he fell to his knees, the magnitude of the moment sinking in. How did it feel to qualify for Wimbledon for the first time? Niland smiles. It almost feels as if he is reimagining that moment as we speak. “Yeah, it was the highlight of my career. Just qualifying for the tournament, I celebrated like… like I’d won it. It’s such an instant release of tension.”

Niland’s first round match at Wimbledon pitted him against Adrian Mannarino, then a top 50 player. The winner of the contest would face Roger Federer on Centre Court, a tantalising prospect for Niland, who had never played on such a big stage. Niland won the first set, before Mannarino came back to win the next two. Niland snatched the fourth. Serving at 4-1 up in the fifth, victory was within his grasp. He cast his mind towards the match that awaited him. The magnitude of the moment overwhelmed him and minutes later it was Mannarino’s match point. A missed backhand volley. A match against Federer was off the cards. In the book, Niland vividly described his emotions in the aftermath of the loss: “He screams. I stand motionless…I can almost feel the shadow of Centre Court weighing on my back.”

A couple of months later Niland tasted grand slam success again, this time in the sultry heat and vibrant festivity of the US Open. For his first round match, he would be on the biggest stage of his career: Arthur Ashe Stadium, which could seat over 20,000 spectators, playing against World No. One Novak Djokovic. The match that was supposed to be the realisation of all he’d worked towards ended up being one of the most painful. Walking onto court for the match, Niland wondered whether he would even be able to finish it, as he was suffering from food poisoning. A cruel turn of fate. Surprisingly, Niland is sunnier when reminiscing about this match than I would have expected. “It’s made for a slightly funnier, more interesting story than just going out healthy”, he points out. “It’s yet another element for the reader.”

Retirement came the year after his food poisoning misfortune. “That’s why I finished playing six months later. I’d done Wimbledon and the US Open…. It definitely helped me move on”, Niland tells me. “I felt like I’d done the thing that I was chasing.” As he says this, I’m reminded again of the realism of a twelve year old who knew that he would not win Wimbledon.

Looking back on his time on tour, Niland remarks that “a career can get condensed into four or five matches, and that’s what you take with you through the rest of your life”. He picks out the matches at Wimbledon and the US Open, as well as his tournament wins, as the ones that stay with him. All the rest – the first round losses in Canada and India and Japan and Ireland – would fade from memory, surviving only as scorelines online.

“Did you win Wimbledon, or how’d you do in Wimbledon? Did you play a famous player? Did you beat a famous player?” These are the questions Niland is asked time and time again. Yet his story is more than the highlights, the fleeting encounters with fame and glory. His is a story of ambition tempered by realism, confidence inhibited by insecurity, and talent constrained by circumstance. Above all, Niland’s book has a radical honesty which humanises elite athletes, who are too often seen as impenetrable, soullessly and endlessly dedicated to their craft.

Reading Niland’s book, I felt that I was being transported into the mind of a man in between two worlds. With a career high ranking of 129 in the world, Niland neither gained admittance to the elite class of the Top 100 singles players, nor languished in the lower ranks of the hopeless strivers who would never even compete at a Grand Slam. No longer is Niland trapped in that liminal space between worlds: he’s entered the literary realm.

Oxford NHS Trust pays out over £750,000 following radiology mistakes

Beatriz Lopez Guevara
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Oxford NHS Trust pays out over £750,000 following radiology mistakes

Oxford University Hospitals (OUH) NHS Foundation Trust has paid out £756,581 in compensation since 2020 following errors linked to radiology services, newly released figures from the Medical Negligence Assist Solicitors show. The data obtained indicates that eleven claims relating to diagnostic imaging errors were brought against the trust between 2020 and 2025, with six cases resulting in settlements. The highest number of claims was recorded in 2021/2022, when six were lodged.

An OUH spokesperson told Cherwell: “We cannot comment on individual cases, however, we sincerely apologise to all of the patients who were involved in these incidents. We are committed to delivering high-quality, safe, and effective care to the people who we serve. We work closely with patients, families and carers to resolve any compensation claim at the earliest opportunity. As an organisation, we are continually looking at how we can learn, and improve and working in partnership with our patients, families, and carers is central to this.”

Radiology plays a central role in modern healthcare, supporting emergency treatment, surgical decision-making and cancer diagnosis. While the vast majority of scans carried out across the NHS are completed safely, mistakes can have serious consequences. Radiology errors can be considered some of the most consequential patient safety incidents, as delayed, missed, or incorrect diagnoses can directly affect treatment outcomes and survival rates, particularly in cases involving grave conditions such as cancer and emergency care.

Speaking to Medical Negligence Assist, Sophie Cope said radiology errors could have “life-changing consequences” for patients. “Some errors may result in additional pain and suffering, prolonged illness, the need for more invasive treatment or prolonged recovery, and other errors can be catastrophic”, she said. “Many of these errors are avoidable.”

The figures form part of a wider national picture showing a rise in radiology-related negligence claims. According to NHS Resolution data, 2,163 claims have been made against NHS trusts across the country since 2020 for radiology errors. Of these, 1,520 cases were settled, with total compensation payments amounting to more than £231 million. 

It is widely known that diagnostic imaging is a critical component of modern healthcare. The Royal College of Radiologists (RCR) has raised the alert of a 30% shortfall in the radiology workforce, equivalent to 1,962 consultant radiologists, and reports that £276 million was spent in 2023 managing excess reporting demand, creating backlogs and consequently increasing the risk of diagnostic mistakes across the NHS in England.

In Oxford, efforts have been made to modernise and boost radiology services. A £21 million investment approved by the Department of Health and Social Care during the 2019 administration led to the replacement of several CT scanners, MRI units, and two mammography machines, which were more than ten years old. These upgrades were implemented across the Trust’s four main hospitals: John Radcliffe, Churchill, Nuffield Orthopaedic Centre, and Horton General Hospital. Likewise, further funding has been granted nationally. In the Labour Budget brought forward in November of 2024, the Chancellor committed £70 million for new linear accelerator (Linac) machines, following a pre-budget request from the RCR aimed at supporting effective cancer treatment.

Family resemblance: Oxford’s twin cities

Emma Heagney
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Family resemblance: Oxford’s twin cities

From prestigious university towns to ancient settlements, Oxford is twinned with seven cities around the world, spread across three continents. But what do these cities in Italy, Germany, the Netherlands, and Nicaragua have in common architecturally? What about Poland, France, and Palestine? Where can we see our beloved university city in each of them? A look at each city’s traditions and visual culture reveals a connection close to the heart of Oxford: academic heritage.

Bonn (Germany) and Leiden (the Netherlands) share a common feature with Oxford: the highly prestigious university. Bonn, the birthplace of Beethoven, is home to one of the oldest universities in Germany. The institution blends modern and historic architecture, with the University Library embracing a St Catz-esque facade following its initial destruction in the Second World War, while the Koblenz Gate boasts gilded column capitals and no fewer than nine statues. Unlike Oxford, the University of Bonn does not seem to have as many odd traditions as their British twin, but as part of the wider Rhineland, it is a keen participant in the annual Karneval season.

Likewise, the University of Leiden is the oldest university in the Netherlands. Having produced 13 Nobel Prize winners, Leiden has been one of the world’s major scientific centres. Its academy building bears striking resemblance to Keble College with its unusual red brick construction. The De Valk mill and museum lies above the skyline, infusing the city with characteristic Dutch culture, exchanged with Oxford each year through performances by the Leiden Youth Choir. Bonn and Leiden are also both situated on an iconic river, the Rhine, just as the Isis and Cherwell rivers flow through Oxford.

Grenoble (France) is also a deeply ancient city. In southeastern France, Grenoble was the home of a Gallic tribe, the Allobroges, conquered by Caesar and subsumed into Roman Gaul before eventually becoming part of modern-day France. Despite its heritage, Grenoble today is a hub of modern architecture, reflecting its more recent industrial development. A leader in sustainable housing initiatives, Grenoble’s unique ‘fungus shaped’ apartment blocks use brown balconies contrasted against white cladding, creating the illusion of a tree growing inside a building. Just a look at the skyline, however, reminds one of the city’s history –  the famous Bastille, a series of medieval fortresses, remains Grenoble’s most popular tourist attraction.

Padua is similarly ancient, with its own origin myth stemming from the Trojans. Perhaps to no surprise, the city is absolutely crammed full of historic architecture and beautiful artwork, from the artistically significant Scrovegni Chapel to the Romanesque and Byzantine style of the ‘il Santo’ Basilica. Much of the same can be said about Oxford –  the concentration of listed buildings in Oxford is eye-watering. Yet, once again, the greatest similarity is in the prestigious and ancient university situated in the heart of the city. Founded in 1222, the University of Padua was a major centre of the Italian Renaissance, and home to leading intellectual figures such as Copernicus and Vesalius. 

The last of the European cities tied with Oxford is Wrocław (Poland), as Oxford’s relationship with Perm (Russia) was suspended after the invasion of Ukraine in 2022. Oxford and Wrocław were twinned in 2018 in order to recognise Oxford’s large Polish community (the second most spoken language in Oxford is Polish). Wrocław maintains much of its architectural heritage, and the Old Town is named on Poland’s prestigious list of National Monuments. The Cathedral Island is, in particular, the oldest part of the city, and reflects the religious life of Poland more widely. Wrocław Cathedral dominates the skyline, its two towers gazing over the land. Once again, the University of Wrocław’s historic main building is perched on the side of the Oder River. During the Guanlia festival in June, students at Wrocław temporarily ‘steal’ the sword of the statue by the main entrance, symbolising the handing over of keys to the student government for festivities.

We next travel to Central America, to the city of León in Nicaragua. León has also historically been the intellectual centre of its nation, and hosts the second oldest university in Central America, the National Autonomous University of Nicaragua. The country has seen a complete transformation of education in recent decades, with several literacy campaigns having been awarded by UNESCO. The architectural highlight of León is undoubtedly the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of León, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Strikingly white, it is the largest cathedral in Central America and one of the oldest dioceses in the Americas. It blends the Neoclassical and Baroque styles with the Gothic, Renaissance, and Mudéjar traditions to create a religious centre which is truly unique.

Finally, we arrive at Ramallah (Palestine). Oxford and Ramallah became twin cities in 2019, after the creation of the Oxford Ramallah Friendship Association (ORFA) in 2002, after volunteers from Oxford called for help as Israeli tanks entered Ramallah in the same year. In the decades since its establishment, leading figures in Oxford and Ramallah have visited each city – most recently, the Palestinian flag was flown from the Town Hall to celebrate one such visit. Moreover, the Palestinian History Tapestry Project was displayed in the same location in 2021, an artistic exchange designed to celebrate Palestinian culture and raise awareness for the devastating situation in Palestine. Ramallah itself incorporates the architecture of several periods, from Roman ruins to the ultra-modern Arafat Mausoleum. The brightly-lit Ramallah Cultural Palace opened its doors in 2004, reflecting the cultural and intellectual importance of the city, home to poets, musicians, and activists. It is no wonder that Oxford is twinned with such an important area of the West Bank, and Oxford’s warm relationship with Ramallah shall hopefully provide ample opportunity to support the people of Palestine in what continues to be a catastrophic time.

Oxford’s twin cities share its intellectual spirit. The curiosity to learn, even in the face of poverty and destruction, endures. The buildings making up each city reveal a deeper history, a reflection of religious life, cultural proliferation, and much needed political activism.

New study co-led by Oxford shows global aviation emissions could be halved by maximising efficiency

Lucy Pollock
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New study co-led by Oxford shows global aviation emissions could be halved by maximising efficiency

A new study co-led by the University of Oxford has found that global aviation emissions could be reduced by 50 to 75% by flying only the most fuel-efficient aircraft models, switching to all-economy layouts, and increasing passenger loads to 95%.

The study was published in Nature Communications Earth & Environment and co-authored by Dr Milan Klöwer, a research fellow in the Department of Physics. It showed that a 10.7% reduction in global aviation emissions is achievable immediately, by using more efficient aircrafts on more strategic routes. 

Data collected from Airline Data, International Civil Aviation Organization, and International Air Transport Association was used to analyse almost 27.5 million flights, transporting over 3.5 billion passengers over a total distance of over 43 billion kilometres – a distance equivalent to 145 return journeys to the sun. These flights emitted a total of 577 million tonnes of carbon dioxide. Business and first class seats were found to be up to five times more CO2-intensive than economy class seats. 

20 countries accounted for 74.9% of global emissions from air passenger transport, with the United States, the highest, responsible for 25% of global aviation emissions. Efficiency was lowest in Africa, Australia, and Norway, and highest in Brazil, India, and Southeast Asia. Dr Klöwer told Cherwell that the least efficient airlines, according to his research, were United Airlines, Delta, and Air Algerie. 

The study found that the most efficient aircraft model was the Boeing 787-900, and that replacing aircraft with models like the Boeing 787-900 for long-haul flights and the Airbus A321neo for medium and short-haul flights could result in fuel savings of 25 to 28%. Due to predicted “robust growth” of the industry over the next 20 years, the study called for serious changes to reduce fuel use without limiting air transport capacity.

Dr Klöwer told Cherwell that whilst aviation is only responsible for 2 to 3% of annual CO2 emissions, its contribution to global warming is at 4% higher due to secondary climate effects like condensation trails. Dr Klöwer told Cherwell: “this contribution to global warming is dominated by rich people flying excessively, often long-haul in business and first class or even private.”

The study highlighted that “aviation’s climate impact continues to grow, with little progress toward emission reductions aligned with global targets”. Factors affecting this growth include the expansion of airlines, airports, and the role of subsidies, as well as patterns of flight distribution and the influence of frequent fliers on demand generation. As demand growth has outpaced efficiency gains in the past, aviation emissions will continue to rise unless new technologies, including sustainable aviation fuels (SAF) become available on a large scale. 

Concern was expressed over Airbus’ recent decision to delay work on hydrogen-electric aircraft, as well as the technical and economic barriers to e-fuel production and the cost and production limits to SAF. The researchers found it unlikely that the sector will decarbonise in line with global climate stabilisation objectives. Airlines have recognised that fuel savings are in their own economic interest, yet continue to fly with old aircraft, with many aircrafts operating for 25 years. 

Four methods for optimising fuel consumption were suggested. The first was reforms to aircraft technology and design, improving the weight and aerodynamics of aircraft and optimising engine fuel efficiency. The second was research into alternative and new fuels that could help reduce CO2 emissions. The third was reforms to aviation operations and infrastructure: optimisation of flight routes, including altitude, air traffic control systems, dynamic scheduling, efficient ground handling, airport designs, and airport congestion. 

The study strongly recommended increasing passenger load to reduce fuel consumption per passenger, the most efficient method being switching to economy class only seating configurations. The final recommendation was socio-economic and policy measures. Policies that targeted emissions, such as SAF fuel quotas, landing fees, air passenger duties, and emission trading could act as incentives for airlines to operate more efficiently. 

Dr Klöwer told Cherwell that “the flight emissions from some celebrities…are often 10,000x higher than for an average person from a rich country”, and that private aviation will never be as efficient as commercial flights, and is many times worse for the climate than first class.
Dr Klöwer said: “Realistically, this would be a long-term transition – one that could be promoted by policies that reward efficiency, so that the most efficient aircraft are favoured whenever replacement decisions are made.”

Neil Kinnock: ‘The power of cooperation is slow but relentless’

Hattie Simpson
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Neil Kinnock: ‘The power of cooperation is slow but relentless’

Neil Kinnock’s office in the House of Lords is small and tightly packed. One wall is entirely covered with books; the others are crowded with photographs, posters, and fragments from his political life. Besides his armchair hangs a photograph titled ‘Lord Kinnock makes his maiden speech’, taken during a family holiday where he delivered a mock address as part of a sketch. Besides that, hangs a poster labelled ‘Guide for Kinnock Drafters’, written by a senior civil servant when Kinnock moved roles at the European Commission – a satirical response, he explains, to his habit of rewriting the speeches drafted for him by officials. He insists he was never criticising the quality of the writing, only that “they weren’t Neil Kinnock, so they weren’t talking like I talk”.

Kinnock’s speaking style is distinctive, often placed within a long Welsh political dynasty – although he resists how that tradition is usually explained. He rejects the romantic explanations, it wasn’t “the pulpit or revolutionary fervour”, he says, at least not primarily. “We were always in tight corners…the main reason was to get ourselves out of trouble.” The result is what he describes as “a kind of teaching style”, developed, not to impress, but to persuade and defend. It’s a manner of speaking shaped by adversity and one he still believes others would benefit from adopting: “I wish more people would grab hold of it as it would make their lives easier.”

Throughout our conversation, Kinnock is funny, self-deprecating, and visibly uncomfortable with any suggestion of grandeur – despite his numerous achievements as Labour Party Leader, Vice President of the European Commission, and titan of Welsh politics. When I jokingly apologise for the difficulty of my questions, he laughs and says they might be better suited “to my psychiatrist maybe, if I ever had one!”. And when we turn to reflecting on his achievements, he adds quietly, “I think…that, that’s pretty good”. Humility is not a pose, as with so many politicians, but rather appears innate to his belief that progress is the responsibility of any politician, not something to be celebrated.

This attitude appears to be deep set and so the natural start of our conversation is to ask how he got into politics. His response, characteristically humourful, is to pull out the list of prepared questions I’d sent and say “much easier than any of these”.

He grew up in Tredegar in the 1940s, in what was then the South Wales coalfield, and understood early on how his community worked. As a child, he noticed that “all good things in our community…were all collectively provided at a standard no one could afford to pay for themselves, but because everybody chipped in a little bit these remarkable facilities were available”. Cultural experiences, education, leisure – these weren’t luxuries reserved for the few but shared achievements. By 14, he had read widely thanks to the local library and listened to orchestras, not because of personal wealth but because, as he puts it, “Tredegar, like a lot of working-class communities, had enormous cultural aspiration”. 

The lesson was straightforward: “The general wellbeing of communities, enjoyed by individuals, came from collective contribution and organisation.” Politics followed naturally. “To me it was obvious that more needed to be done…that the only way to get those improvements was to organise and that meant joining the Labour Party”. He joined on the 1st January 1956, three months before his 15th birthday, having been granted special permission.

At Cardiff University, organising was the natural next step. He joined the socialist society and helped build a membership of around 700 in a student population of just over 3,000. Leafletting one day, he met Glenys Parry; they went on to marry a few years after graduating. After university, he worked as a tutor for the Workers’ Educational Association before being selected, to his astonishment, as the Labour candidate for one of the safest seats in the country. He was elected to Parliament in 1970 at just 27 years old. With characteristic bluntness, he reflects that it “wasn’t attribute to my brilliance…it was just pure bloody luck”. 

“I never regretted it”, he says, “but I did think, when we had a very young family, whether it was sensible”. It was Glenys who made it possible. Because of her, “I was able to sustain a very high level of constituency and political activity while she effectively brought the kids up…I couldn’t have done much without her, yeah”. He says the last words slowly, after a long pause.

His election at 27 made him one of the youngest MPs in the House. When I ask what he wishes he’d known when he first stepped foot in Parliament, he answers honestly: “What do I wish I knew? A lot!” Eventually he replies, “I wish I’d realised when I got in here that it is worthwhile becoming a master of procedure and really comprehending the opportunities”. He describes discovering, years in, that requesting funding early in the financial year made approval more likely – “I had more pelican crossings than anybody else in the United Kingdom!”. Later, he also realised that “if I allied myself with the benefit officers in my constituency…I could always nudge a little bit extra by pleading individual cases”. “I wish I’d known it from the day I arrived.” 

This attention to process – to the particularities of how institutions work – underpins what he considers his most meaningful achievement. When I ask what he is proudest of, he answers immediately. Contrary to what one might expect, it’s nothing to do with his time as Labour leader: “I think probably getting the international maritime organisation conventions turned into European Union law.” These reforms “transformed the quality of shipping” and contributed to the “safest seas in the world”. He then lists car crash testing regulations; transport treaties with Switzerland; and reforms within the European Commission. “You never see the words European Commission and scandal in the same sentence…because of the reforms we made”. He pauses, “I think that, that’s pretty good”.

Some decisions linger longer. “You think about regret way more than you think about success.” He pauses again before turning to his decision to campaign against remaining in the Common Market in the 1975 referendum: “I’ve thought about my decision to back the campaign quite a lot, yeah. How things might have been different.” He laughs briefly, “Christ, this is fifty years ago – more than twice your age!”. At the time, he says, backing the other side would have seen him dismissed “as an eccentric leftist”. 

But he is careful not to frame this as uncertainty over the European Union itself – in fact, he is arguably the most pro-European leader in the history of the Labour Party. What interests him though is what the issue reveals about political attachment: “On issues like that, what begins as policy stances can become issues of almost religious devotion – they grow deep roots.” Shifting the party’s position on Europe whilst serving as leader in the 1980s was not a matter of decree or discipline, but persuasion: “You can’t do it by any arm twisting or wrist breaking.” The work was slow, incremental, and to do it properly, he recalls, took almost six years. After “a religious fight”, as he describes it, the Labour party “became the most pro-European party in the United Kingdom”.

This idea – that progress is incremental and collective – sits at the centre of his politics. “The power of cooperation is slow but relentless”, he tells me, “it’s how things get done. How good things get done”. He describes himself as holding “the values of a democratic socialist” and insists that compromise is not weakness: “People with deep convictions are never worried about making compromises, because they know that progress is incremental.”

That belief was clearly a shared one. We are speaking two days after the second anniversary of his wife Glenys’ death, after almost 60 years of marriage. When he speaks about her, the shift is immediate – quieter, slower, more deliberate. He recalls watching her work as a Member of the European Parliament – “and a very effective one”. “She used charm whilst other people used tanks.” He remembers seeing her smiling in conversation with a group of Christian Democrats, later explaining that she had secured their agreement to an amendment on international development. When he dismissed them as “German Tories”, she replied that she believed in “getting half a loaf and then going back for another half until I get the whole loaf”. He recalls teasing her in response, “so, you’re not in favour of compromise”, to which she replied, “why should I [be], I married you”. He smiles at the memory and then adds that she once told him, “I didn’t marry you because you’re handsome, obviously, but you’ve always been interesting”. There is a long pause. “She was brilliant, yeah she was.” He quietens and for a moment our conversation stops altogether.

When he speaks again, it’s to return to his cooperative values. His anxiety about contemporary politics is rooted in the abandonment of these. “What worries me most of all is populism”, he says, calling it, “the mobilisation of ignorance, by the manipulators”. He is blunt about figures like Farage and his associates. People must “realise just what a bunch of sharp operators” they are, “they’re wrong on every count…they are sensationalists, they are the Brexiteers, they are the rejectors of global responsibility and yet they blather on about global Britain”.

Still, he believes there’s hope: “Oh yeah, we can beat them,” he says – but “we’ve got to beat them on our terms not theirs”, through accomplishment, exposure, and serious scrutiny.

He has hope too for young people and his advice is characteristically unvarnished: “Be yourselves. No one else is inherently better or worse than anyone else; you prove yourself by hard work and good deeds, and if you do that you’re going to have a lot of fun along the way.” He jokes about having worked very hard at being a clown at school – “a lot of fun” but “bloody awful” in terms of achievement.

My final question turns to the bookshelf in his office when I ask what one book he would read for the rest of his life. He instantly reaches for R.H. Tawney’s Equality. Flicking through it, he finds amid the pages notes from a speech and then begins to read aloud from the opening page: “Matthew Arnold observed that in England inequality is almost a religion. He remarked on the incompatibility of that attitude with the spirit of humanity, and a sense of the dignity of man as man, which are the marks of a truly civilised society. ‘On the one side, in fact, inequality harms by pampering; on the other by vulgarising and depressing. A system founded on it is one against nature, and, in the long run, breaks down’.” “This is the basis to it all”, he says.

We finish with him still holding the book with a sort of reverence. By the end of our conversation his politics feels unmistakable – not rooted in gesture nor rhetoric, but rather patience, organisation, and an insistence that progress is something made together. In a political moment increasingly dictated by urgency and spectacle, Kinnock’s convictions feel almost unfashionable. But sitting in his quiet office, his steadiness cannot be mistaken for nostalgia. 

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