Friday, May 9, 2025
Blog Page 361

New ICU unit planned for the John Radcliffe Hospital

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Plans for a new intensive care unit in the John Radcliffe Hospital have been submitted. It would triple critical care capacity from 16 to 48 intensive care beds. This new capacity would also serve Buckinghamshire and West Berkshire.

The Oxford University Hospitals (OUH) NHS Trust believes the building is an “urgent requirement” as the John Radcliffe’s critical care unit is currently stretched by a large number of patients ill with Covid-19. The trust told the BBC a new unit would “support further pandemic and seasonal pressures” and “given the nature of the pandemic, the increase in critical care capacity must happen at speed”.

The OUH NHS Trust have said they are facing double the number of patients ill with Covid-19 than in the country’s first wave. The John Radcliffe Hospital are dealing with a large number of patients ill with Covid-19 in intensive care, mounting pressure on staff and the hospital’s services. This has forced the trust to cancel all non-essential surgery.

Oxford are facing a high number of coronavirus cases with rates at 531.1 per 100,000, higher than the national rate of 520.4 per 100,000 as of 18th January. Pressure on Oxford’s hospitals has increased, which in turn has created a shortage of intensive care beds. 

A new ICU would include 32 more intensive care beds set out in a “race-track” formation. This layout, used in many world-class critical care units, places nursing in a central area with hospital beds around the ward’s perimeter. It increases patient visibility to staff and facilitates their movement around the unit. The new formation intends to optimise natural light on patients.

The plans also involve demolishing the existing Barnes Care Unit in a 5-story building connected to the central hospital.

Credit Image: Jackie Bowman/CC BY-SA 2.0.

So long, farewell: the UK’s decision to leave Erasmus

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On Christmas Eve of 2020, it was decided that students and young people from Britain will no longer take part in the Europe-wide Erasmus exchange programme, following the UK’s departure from the European Union.  It’s a sad loss, but let’s face it, an expected one. The replacement: the Turing scheme, ostentatiously unveiled as an opportunity whereby UK students can have their ‘pick of the world’, and travel to countries beyond Europe.

The main reason cited for leaving the scheme is financial. The Erasmus Programme, which was established in 1987 and named after the Dutch humanist philosopher, was deemed ‘too expensive’ by Boris Johnson in negotiation talks prior to the new year. The Turing scheme, in the words of Education Secretary Gavin Williamson, will instead ‘deliver real value for money’ and focus on being ‘truly international.’

While Erasmus membership was certainly costly, reports have shown that leaving the partnership deal will blow a hole in the UK economy. ‘Inbound exchange students contributed £440m to the UK in 2018,’ pointed out Vivienne Stern, Director of Universities UK International. ‘There are real concerns as to how the UK will replace that.’ The £100m that has been flung at the Turing scheme may sound impressive, but by comparison, is a paltry investment in young people’s futures. Nor does it solve the problem of sponsoring travel far beyond Europe, when flights have always been covered by students themselves. How will young people afford the fee to fly to Australia, for example, compared to the more manageable cost to travel to Rotterdam? Like a parent disguising a plate of vegetables as a dessert, Johnson desperately promises, in true Trumpian fashion, a ‘bigger and better’ programme. See previous claims on a ‘world-beating’ track and trace scheme, if you need reminding of how boasts work out in this government. 

The greatest loss, however, has never been concerned with money. 17,000 British young people will be deprived of valuable work and life experience, according to a group of education and business leaders. Living abroad, working in a new environment, appreciating the language and culture of a different country – each of these are invaluable in their own right. How lucky we were to have access to a programme that brought all of these together, opportunities otherwise out of reach to low-income students. Bursaries from Erasmus made such experiences possible: small worlds made big; confidence made even bigger.

No doubt will Erasmus’ opponents defend the decision by framing it as a ‘gap yah’ holiday for the privileged few. Really, however, it has opened doors for those who would never be able to open them. A report published last year found that BAME students who studied abroad were 17% more likely to be in graduate jobs six months after graduation. For a portion of the population who were never able to vote on this decision to leave Erasmus, let alone in the EU referendum itself, the outcome is more than frustrating. And it comes a whole three years after Michael Gove’s declaration that May’s Brexit deal would see ‘the final whistle blown, and the prime minister having won.’ Gove would be proven incorrect timewise, but the analogy still speaks volumes – young people have been caught amid this public-school boy football match in which the main players seem to only be scoring own goals.

I never got to benefit from the Erasmus programme, but the effect of living abroad as a young person is not lost on me. Taking French and Spanish for A level, I spent a week in Madrid and Montpellier to attend language schools. It was my first time away from home and navigating a foreign city was hard, but I will treasure the memories and friendships made there all my life. It was a gift. Students there, from across Europe, were inquisitive.

Brexit was often brought up in our first conversations. ‘But none of us want to lose you, either,’ a friend from Belgium pointed out, most likely after I’d lamented about our own losses. At first, it felt like a curiously undeserved kindness, but in retrospect it suggests more plainly what was undeserved for them – a ‘referendum’ that ultimately gave no choice to a union of people just as implicated in the decision. A generation of those students I met, who also would want to visit a country and have an equally formative experience: to study in London, Liverpool; to enjoy the quirks and delights of a country that I have long since forgotten. None of us want to lose you either.  It’s a comment that has stayed with me, but feels particularly resonant now that those friends will struggle to find funded places at UK universities. Up our fences go, as if our nation could not already be more insular.

Perhaps hypocrisy is only to be expected here, but it’s still difficult not to feel hard done by. The prime minister told MPs in January that there was ‘no threat to the Erasmus scheme and we will continue to participate in it.’ It hasn’t taken long – at all – for people to show their anger over this broken promise. SNP MP Douglas Chapman accused the prime minister of ‘lies and bluster’, following on the words of his party’s leader, Nicola Sturgeon, who said that such a decision would be ‘cultural vandalism.’ Labour’s shadow education secretary, Kate Green, said that pulling out of the scheme was ‘needless.’ Needless for everyone but the self-serving, of course. Johnson himself is notably fluent in Italian and French. The latter he most likely picked up during his stint as the Brussels correspondent for The Telegraph, where he was able to work abroad as a young journalist (and spread anti-EU stories, even then). The irony is clear enough to anyone.

It is tricky to express grief over something you’ve never had, especially when the Erasmus Programme is small fry in comparison to trade deals and fishing agreements. But make no mistake in dismissing this decision, which seems to be the greatest revenge of the Tories yet: the blinding of future generations to the beauty and life of European cities abroad.

‘Ah, bitter chill it was!’: John Keats, the winter Romantic

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Unlike Agatha Christie adaptations or reruns of Doc Marten from 2009, the works of a 19th century Romantic poet seem an unlikely match with the dreary winter months. Rather, the mainstream approach is to view the Romantics through the lens of an eternal summer. The movement’s cornerstone ideology appraises nature, growth, and the freedom of roaming the Great Outdoors. Yet reading the Romantics with such a limited seasonal perspective denies them the complexity their work begs. If anything, the bitter British winter was a source of great inspiration for some Romantics, hardly a period to be discarded as a fruitless literary realm. If we simply read the Romantics as summer poets, we limit their work to a one-season run of flowers, lutes, and half-naked women, disconcertingly like the sole lucky break of many one-hit-wonder indie bands. So to what extent can we really read the Romantics as winter poets? Or would it be better to leave them frolicking in meadows as traditional opinion would prefer?

One of the clearest examples of a winter Romantic is one of the most contemplative and melancholic of Romantic figures, John Keats. At the time considered inferior to his more famous contemporaries in both literary and social status, Keats offered a new approach to the movement that shocked and abhorred peers. Lord Byron, a figurehead of the era not known for his subtlety, once declared that Keats wrote ‘piss a bed poetry’. Nowadays, however, it is common to group Keats neatly with Romantic contemporaries. Poems like ‘Bright Star, would I were as steadfast as thou art’ are indeed consistent with the Romantic reverence for the ‘eternal […] priestlike’ elements of nature. In addition, works such as ‘O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell’ condemn the ‘jumbled heap’ of Keats’ industrial world with appropriate Rousseauian distain. In Keats’ arguably most famous poem, ‘Ode to a Nightingale’, images of ‘beechen green’, ‘embalmèd air’ and ‘fruit-tree wild’ align neatly with the general concept of the Romantics as summer poets. Summer is found not only in Keatsian settings, but also in plot: ‘Ode to Psyche’ sees ‘two fair creatures […] calm-breathing on the bedded grass’, with ‘arms embraced’, echoed by the two-dimensional image represented in ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, describing the ‘fair youth, beneath the trees’. If so many of Keats’ central works coincide with the view of Romantics as summer poets, why does he remain one of the best examples of the counterargument? For this, it is necessary to take a closer look at some of Keats’ lesser discussed works.

‘The Eve of St Agnes’ is a wintery Keatsian masterpiece. This considerably hefty poem, spanning over forty stanzas, does not have the same position in the spotlight as ‘Ode to a Nightingale’ or, really, Keats’ odes in general. It is one of his more complex, darker pieces. It lacks the summertime brilliance of his simpler and shorter poems, drifting instead into the frosty realms of a medieval dream-state. Indeed, the same Romantic themes of passion and freedom from social constraints apply here. Keats also draws heavily, however, on unsettling winter images including ‘icy hoods and nails’ and ‘chill, silent as a tomb’, forging a dark and uncomfortable atmosphere only emphasised by ominous, seemingly deliberate over-employment of sibilance.

Rather saucily, this ‘bitter chill’ contrasts with, and thus emphasises, the heat of the passion experienced within Madeline’s ‘garlanded’ bedchamber later on in the poem. Lines such as ‘into her dream he melted, as the rose / blendeth its odour with the violet’ draw upon floral summer imagery, yet the reader is ever reminded of the ‘frost-wind’ outside. Keats’ references to the summer are only brief, dreamy escapes from the endurance of winter suffering. In this sense, Keats’ poem, though still maintaining the liminal state forever associated with Romanticism, maintains a gloomy and disturbing edge.

At times, Keats also toys with the sublime, another feature of the Romantics commonly seen in Wordsworth. This concept revolves around epic, awesome landscapes, encompassing the Romantic reverence for nature whilst often drawing on more isolated, wintery settings. ‘On The Sea’ (1817), one of Keats’ simplest poems inspired by the (rather less simple) Shakespeare tragedy, ‘King Lear’, is set amongst ‘desolate shores’, ‘caverns’ and ‘the winds of Heaven’. References to ‘the spell of Hecate’ and ‘sea nymphs’ provide the mythological surrealism often accompanying sublime writings.

Whether this winter dreariness is representative of Keats’ own melancholy is often discussed. In accordance with this argument, the concept of a ‘desolate shore’ appears in a later poem by Keats, ‘When I have Fears That I May Cease To Be’ (1818). In this later poem, Keats writes some of his best and most haunting lines: ‘on the shore /of the wide world, I stand alone, and think / till fame and love to nothingness do sink’. Hence, the wintery ‘shore’ becomes a place of alienation and contemplation existing side by side. Here, Keats could not be further from the flowery meadows we forever associate with the Romantics, existing instead on a darker, sadder plain, alone in the depths of winter. Not the cosiest of reads, but certainly crowning Keats a winter poet.

And so whilst some Keatsian works do embrace the endless summer in which we so love to imagine the Romantics, others prove that Keats has more to offer than cloudless skies. Looking at ‘The Eve of St Agnes’, among the other wintery works attributed to Keats, might be the answer to a fresh way of looking at the Romantics. If these next months feel dreary and dark, as they undoubtedly will as the struggle to vaccinate the vulnerable population continues, do seek solace in the strange, mysterious world of Romantics. Poets like Keats understood the dark depths of the British winter, and the human longing for the summer to come. And so as we knuckle down for some tough months ahead, put aside your fears and delve into a bit of Romanticism. Indeed, a bit of Keats will certainly remind you that whichever shore you stand upon, you certainly do not stand alone.


Image Credit: Culture Club/Getty Images.

Backstage takes centre stage: a look behind the scenes

Whether you have acted in the Olivier Theatre, or taken part in the school nativity, any actor will be oh too familiar with the organised chaos commonly referred to as ‘backstage’. The panicked cry of ‘where’s my prop?!’ five seconds before your cue, the frantic costume changes in the wings and the crippling fear of not being called for your scene are not only rights of passages but, in fact, an integral part to the production. Perhaps even an aspect that audience members rarely consider whilst sat happily in the stalls. Where would Cinderella be without her glass slipper? Could Romeo and Juliet have lived happily ever after if Romeo had been cued a bit late? Perhaps Lady Macbeth wouldn’t have felt quite so guilty if she hadn’t had time to apply that fake blood to her hands in-between scenes? It may be, that the seamless performance audience members witness onstage, is in fact, only the tip of an iceberg.

It all begins, of course, in the rehearsal room. After weeks of eyeing up your opponents during auditions, you are finally sat in an unusually dark room with a slightly damp smell; some feeling pretty chuffed with their solo and others less so with the role of Villager No. 2. It is at this point where the thought of being secure in your lines, standing on stage, in costume, seems like a faraway dream. At this precise moment, dodgy American accents are being polished and elaborate mimes for props you simply don’t have are being carried out with painful attention to detail. Meanwhile, the director is becoming increasingly stressed as cues are missed, lines are shaky and ‘NO-ONE. I REPEAT NO-ONE IS WHERE THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE!’ is screamed over a microphone.

The general feeling in the rehearsal room tends to be one of despair and doubt as to whether the show will ever be ready. The
famous phrase, ‘it’ll all be ok on the night’ does, however, always seem to pull through when you finally have something worthy of performance. It is at this moment that it becomes obvious just how important backstage is; it can quite simply carry the play or allow it to flop, making the phrase ‘break a leg’ cut a bit close to the bone.

That isn’t to say, however, that a few technical hiccups during a production don’t add to the charm and fun, both for actors and audience members. During one particularly memorable sixth form production of ‘A Christmas Carol’, a yoyo, which was crucial to the scene, was not in the coat pocket it was supposed to be in. This resulted in having to perform an overly detailed, ‘off the cuff’ mime of said yoyo in front of a live audience: great sport for them, rather humiliating for me. During another production of RSC’s ‘Wendy and Peter Pan’, an actor not being able to make it in time from the dressing room to the stage meant that drastic improvisation had to take place, resulting in the contents and length of the scene changing dramatically. I’m fairly confident that the audience didn’t notice, the actors onstage, however, most definitely did and, safe to say, the post show adrenaline levels in the dressing room were running much higher than usual.

Then there is the pre-show dressing room tension that every actor is craving during this latest lockdown. From the lost costumes and wardrobe malfunctions being sorted out last minute to the soundtrack of tongue twisters and scales being sung in the background. Meanwhile, seeing fellow castmates in their underwear no longer seems strange; in fact, no-one bats an eyelid. It is maybe these small moments that are most missed by actors during the pandemic, not the dramatic death scenes, or passionate declarations of love onstage, but the little trials and tribulations that go on in the wings which ultimately bring a cast closer together.

Ultimately, it doesn’t seem to be the centre stage limelight that actors are missing so much during lockdown, but rather the backstage community, the dressing room drama and panic in the wings that all contribute to the feel-good-feeling drama can achieve. It seems that now, more so than ever before, the show truly must go on in order to preserve this precious sense of ensembl

BREAKING: University confirms record-low 7 positive cases this week

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The University has confirmed a record-low 7 cases of Covid-19 amongst staff and students from Early Alert Service tests for the 16th-22nd January, with a positivity rate of 6.8%. This marks an 84.4% decrease from last week’s 45 cases

This figure does not include the results from the Lateral Flow Tests that students have been encouraged to take upon returning to campus. 103 tests were administered by the University service in total this week, less than half the 222 administered the week prior. 

In Oxfordshire, cases have been decreasing. In the 7 days up to the 19th of January, Public Health England reported 24 positive cases in Oxford Central, 5 in North Central Oxford, and 36 cases in East Central Oxford. All of these areas have seen a decrease in cases.

Oxford study finds social media manipulation in all 81 countries surveyed

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A report published by the Oxford Internet Institute (OII) has found evidence of organised social media manipulation campaigns in all 81 countries surveyed in 2020, a 15% increase compared to last year’s report. 

The study points to the rising influence of ‘cyber troops’. This refers to social media accounts that spread doctored images, use data-driven strategies to target specific sections of the population, troll political opponents, and mass-report opponents’ content so that it is reported as spam. These accounts can be either automated or human.

Facebook and Twitter revealed that they removed more than 317,000 accounts and pages from their platforms in a 22-month period (Jan 2019 to Nov 2020), but they are up against an industry that has become “professionalised, with private firms offering disinformation-for-hire services,” says Dr Samantha Bradshaw, a researcher at the OII. While social media companies were removing accounts, $10 million was spent around the world on cyber troop political advertising in the same timeframe and $60 million has been spent on private “strategic communications” firms since 2009. 

OII’s report found evidence of government agencies in 62 countries using computational propaganda for their own ends. Examples include China-backed cyber troops who continue to launch smear campaigns against Hong Kong Protestors and the Libyan National Army who have used social media to shape narratives about the ongoing civil war.

Of the 48% of countries with misinformation campaigns that drive division and polarization, the UK and the US were counted among them. In fact, the US and the UK both tested positive for interference from all five potential actors – government agencies, politicians & parties, private contractors, civil society organisations and citizens & influencers.

During the attack on the US Capitol on 6 January, fears of civil unrest caused by years of social media manipulation were harshly realised. “The day after the election, a group immediately pops up on Facebook called Stop the Steal,” says Sheera Frankel, cybersecurity reporter for the New York Times. “They’re gaining 100 new members every 10 seconds.” After Facebook and Twitter removed their pages, the group reconvened on Gab and Parler, platforms that allow individuals to say whatever they want without fear of moderation or censorship.

“Now, more than ever, the public needs to be able to rely on trustworthy information about government policy and activity,” said Professor Philip Howard, Director of the OII and co-author of the OII report. “Social media companies need to raise their game by increasing their efforts to flag misinformation and close fake accounts without the need for government intervention, so the public has access to high-quality information.”

Image Credit: Today Testing. Licence: CC BY-SA 4.0

Oxford researchers accurately trace Covid-19 transmission through genomic epidemiology

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Researchers from the Universities of Oxford and Edinburgh have recently published a comprehensive genomic analysis of the Covid-19 transmission. The full report was released on 8 January 2021, presenting detailed insights into the behaviour of Covid-19 transmission chains since the outbreak of the pandemic in the UK. 

The study is based on data from the first wave of the pandemic in early 2020, when the virus was first introduced into the region, and has found that the highest number of transmission chains had been introduced from Spain at 33%, France at 29%, and Italy at 12%. Transmission chains of the virus from China, meanwhile, accounted for only 0.4% of imports. 

The researchers drew on more than 50,000 virus genome sequences, in which 26,000 of these sequences were obtained from the Covid-19 Genomics UK (COG-UK) consortium. The results of the study offer a crucial context to what is happening now in the current wave of the pandemic in the UK. The same team have hence incorporated the genomic factor in identifying the latest variant (termed B.1.1.7) that is currently growing at rapid rates throughout the country. 

The team of scientists have suggested that a detailed comparison of the new variant’s behaviour with that of the first wave lineages will be crucial to understanding why the B.1.1.7 variant is spreading so quickly now. Before the March 2020 lockdown, high travel volumes and lax restrictions on international travel led to the circulation of more than 1,000 identifiable UK transmission lineages which had persisted into the summer of the same year. 

In a news article published by Oxford University, Professor Oliver Pybus, co-lead author based at Oxford’s Department of Zoology and the Oxford Martin School, said that by reconstructing where and when COVID-19 was introduced to the UK, we can see that earlier travel and quarantine interventions could have helped to reduce the acceleration and intensity of the UK’s first wave of cases. 

Another co-lead author, Louis du Plessis, also from Oxford’s Department of Zoology, added that the UK shares large volumes of virus genetic data publicly on a weekly basis, and that “if you don’t have this level of surveillance, you won’t know the real situation of virus evolution and transmission.” 

PhD researcher Verity Hill also emphasised that this form of continuous, nationally coordinated genomic sequencing allows for high-resolution analysis and for other countries to place their genomic data into context. This would enable countries to strategise a more effective pandemic response.

Image Credit: iSO-FORM LLC. Licence: CC BY 4.0

Michael(mas): Everyone’s Toxic Ex

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It’s weird isn’t it, having more than one kid.  

I love kids (not in a weird way, you creep) but, you’d think that after the pain of childbirth and having your vagina stretched to the size of a small melon, if someone was like,  

“You wanna go for round 2?” 

You’d be like,

 “I’m good.” 

But my mum’s one of six, which means her mum either has a vagina of steel or a taste for masochism. 

Turns out she has neither. 

After childbirth your brain releases some hormone/chemical (medics come at me) that makes you forget how painful it actually was. And how on Earth can you be upset about the pain when ‘awhhh cute baby! It looks  ike literally every other baby on the planet but let’s pretend it has your forehead!’ *pinches cheeks.* 

Oxford is Childbirth. See, I got to the point eventually. I’ve never given birth (shocker) but they say that it’s the 2nd most painful thing that a human can endure. Number 1?  

Michaelmas.  

Scientifically proven, I swear. Michaelmas is Childbirth and the baby is your shiny, gleaming Oxford Degree.  

My point is, you spend 86% of term stressed, depressed and formally-dressed. You put up your paper shield for your tutors’ machine guns, you fret over deadlines, you look at everyone else who all finish every problem sheet 10x faster with 10x more ease and think “why the fuck am I here?” All of your other friends at other unis seem to be on the sesh every other night, posting Instagram posts that you double tap out of courtesy but, really, you’re looking at them thinking: 

Are my 10 lectures, 6 hours of labs and 24 hours of imposter syndrome worth it for a fancy gown that’s only going to make those friends think ‘god they’re a prick’?     

You see the library more than you see your own bed and you count the days until your mum can cook you a meal, without charging you the price of a small island for it, preferably telling you how much of a little clever clogs you are as she serves up the plate.  

And yet. 

Somewhere between the 2nd and 5th week of the 80000-day vac, you find yourself yearning for your gal, Hilary.  

I mean, sure, your ex, Michael (surname: Mas) wasn’t perfect and, yes, you loved the first 2 weeks of detox… but he wasn’t that bad, right? 

The first week, when things where Fresher(s), he was the life of the party. You guys were happy together- partying, drinking, meeting new people, staying up til dawn and sleeping in til noon. After that? I mean, sure he stressed you out during the week, but maybe it was just you, overreacting.  And, come on, during the weekends it was just like old times! He treated you like a gentleman should. You explored the city together, milked that Free Pret Subscription,- other (less free) coffee shops also available- took romantic walks around the Meadows. A couple shots down and you’ve forgotten the bad times altogether.  

Nothing beats your Dad’s stir fry… but suddenly you’re thinking about that Najaar’s falafel, hummus and tabouleh wrap. And your living room couch is like being hugged by a cloud… so why is the dirty JCR sofa calling your name?  

The childbirth chemicals have done their trick and suddenly you can’t wait for round 2. You’re ready. You’re raring to go. Come at me, Hilary, I’m a new person, I’ve learnt from my mistakes and it’ll be different this time, I swear. 

Then, the letter came. 

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the stage: Cockblock COVID. She’s your textbook villain; sickeningly evil, hates fun and an absolute buzzkill at parties.  

We are unfortunately having to ask you to restrict the number of students returninto university.

10 more days added to a vac already longer than a year on Jupiter (scientific fact) and you’re wondering if you’ll ever meet Hilary. That Najaar’s wrap floats from your fingertips.  

10 more days. Thank god I bloody love a stir fry.

A Recipe for the ‘Great British Sitcom’

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It seems difficult to think of anything so integrally British as the phenomenon known as the ‘Great British Sitcom’. Up there with scones, Big Ben and the BBC, it is hailed as one of our much-loved cultural oddities, a strange and mystifying asset which is difficult to pin down. Yet in a time of Tory scandal and coronavirus disaster in Britain, I feel myself clinging to this odd, undefinable genre as a rock of national identity. Once, one of my international friends spending a while in the country asked me, perhaps within reason, how I could be proud to be British in a time with Brexit raging across every headline. With a rather shocked look at him, I said, “Have you never seen Doc Marten?”

When I say the ‘Great British Sitcom’, I mean the strange, often rather ambiguous comedy shows, usually to be found on a Friday evening, most enjoyed with a good glass of wine. The range runs from Peep Show, starring David Mitchell as a socially and romantically inept office worker, all the way to The Vicar of Dibley, starring Dawn French as a progressively-minded vicar in a conservative English village. In between these opposite ends of the spectrum lies The IT Crowd; The Inbetweeners; Spaced; Bad Education; Miranda; Outnumbered, and countless others. Though undoubtedly influenced by their predecessors, these shows are integrally different to something like The Two Ronnies sketches, or Laurel and Hardy pieces. Admittedly, 70s shows like Fawlty Towers or Are You Being Served? might serve as a bridge to this modern genre. But what exactly is it that makes the format so unquestionably British?

One thing that all of the modern shows listed have in common is situation, of course the most vital aspect of the ‘sitcom’ genre. Whether the focus is on the computer geeks of The IT Crowd or the schoolkids of The Inbetweeners, all of these shows have a group of characters attempting to navigate, with varying success, the throes of everyday British life. Whether their problems are romantic, social or otherwise, the general British awkwardness supersedes everything and drives the situation forward. And their problems, too, are often so relatable, especially for people who have grown up here: the references, the settings, the characters, too.

Whilst there are overlaps in the types of characters which populate British sitcoms – one can certainly see the influence of Dawn French’s vicar upon Miranda Hart’s Miranda – often the actual traits of a character play little part in this genre. The constantly battling family in Friday Night Dinner are very different to the pot-smoking young adults we see in Spaced, however, it seems simple to group these shows together under the umbrella of ‘The Great British Sitcom’. This is because differences in characters, such as age, ethnicity or experience don’t really affect a show’s place in the genre: this is all based, once again, on ‘situation’.

The backdrop of this situation is usually important; setting certainly plays a role in defining this genre. If we’re in an urban setting, we’re likely to get shots of Piccadilly Circus or the Houses of Parliament, or at least a sturdy-looking London skyline. A rural setting, on the other hand, is likely to feature cows, muddy fields, a good dose of rain and those nice, white semi-detached houses with the bay windows and a side garage (you know the ones) that crop up all over our fertile land. Admittedly, these shows often present a limited view of Britain – London-centric, southern-based – and generally skim over all the unpleasant bits, such as colonial history and Prince Andrew.

British humour is notorious for being a thing of great mystery to the rest of the world. I imagine that especially in the light of Brexit, the rest of Europe certainly see us as a lot of oddballs. Yet our little island, with its terrible weather and generally shocking cuisine, has bred a certain type of ‘let’s just get on with it’ humour that is possibly one of the most difficult British things to explain (aside from most of the Cabinet’s decisions, that is). Rather like us Brits ourselves, our jokes are silly, awkward, ridiculous, nuanced things. We seem to have a particular fondness for puns and other jokes based on our bastardised language (see Upstart Crow), as well as a good dose of what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’ – finding great humour in someone else’s passing misfortune (see The Inbetweeners). The surreal, too, also plays into many of our jokes (probably the result of all the hard water), and this is one of the most prominent features almost all of the television shows I have mentioned have in common. As comedic situations highten, they often become uttery ridiculous; consider Dawn French ballet dancing with Darcy Bussell in The Vicar of Dibley, or Simon Pegg believing he lives in a post-apocalyptic world in Spaced. We seem to love to toy with the abstract, perhaps simply leaning into our global reputation as a funny little island with a warped sense of humour.

This humour, I believe, is the one staple holding together the cluster of television we see as the Great British Sitcom. And so despite all the Government have done to ruin our international standing, I still find myself feeling fond of our strange little land. As it turned out, national identity exists not only is such things as politics and flags, but just as much in humour, settings, situations and friends. With that, I’ve got to dash – I’m on the final episode of This Country!

Anyone Can Cook

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If you walked into any Waterstones in the month of December you would have seen Yotam Ottelenghi’s most recent book, Flavour, piled high on tables around the store. Even after the Christmas rush, the popularity of the eighth book by the world-renowned Israeli-British chef, owner of six delis and restaurants across London, has not depleted. It is currently #61 on the bestselling list on Amazon and #1 in the restaurant cookbooks section, which, according to sales calculator estimates, puts it at 857 sales a day. His penultimate book SIMPLE published in 2018 is still ranked #163 on Amazon’s bestsellers list. 

While Ottolenghi certainly achieved success with his earlier books, SIMPLE made his sophisticated cuisine accessible to “lazy cooks”. Ottolenghi promises all his recipes can be prepped in under thirty minutes, use ten ingredients or less and can be made ahead of time. After tasting my Dad’s versions of Ottolenghi’s mouth-watering signatures when he was gifted SIMPLE by family friends, I decided to try my hand. While Ottolenghi’s recipes would usually take me longer than the promised thirty minutes, I was surprised to find that it was virtually impossible for them to turn out wrong. Ottolenghi has ridiculously precise directions: “cook for 7-8 minutes, until starting to soften at the edges but still holding their shape.” You’ll also need to invest in cooking scales: “55g pitted Kalamata olives torn in half.” It uses a fantastic combination of flavours from rose harissa with preserved lemon and red bell peppers, to yoghurt with strawberries and sumac for dessert. As I worked my way through the various recipes I started to gain a sense of how crispy I wanted my potatoes to be and how much spice I wanted to add for my not-so-spice-friendly family. In short, Ottolenghi taught me how to cook.

Flavour focuses on vegetables. In fact, it’s an entirely vegetarian cookbook with 45 out of 100 recipes strictly vegan and 17 “easily veganised”. The book highlights methods that induce so-called “flavour bombs,” including charring, infusing and ageing. It also talks about unique pairings such as sweetness and chilli or acidity and fat, using flavour-rich products that pack a particularly potent punch. With increasing knowledge of the damage caused to our health and environment by an excessive global consumption of animal products, Ottolenghi aims to “appeal to the widest group of vegetable lovers possible” with a flexitarian approach. Many of the recipes are also naturally free of other allergens such as gluten or nuts. 

If there is anyone who has done more to advance Ratatouille’s mission of ‘anyone can cook,’ it’s Ottolenghi. As for me, I plan on using my time at home to try out new recipes on my family. I often find myself reminiscing about my Friday 7pm shopping runs to the Oxford Tesco, which would inevitably involve my deep despair when I discovered that they had (yet again) run out of my favourite Ottolenghi staple: the versatile and robust aubergine. Now that I’m no longer in charge of my own grocery shopping I’m grateful at least to be cooking in my parents’ well-stocked kitchen, but not even all the aubergines in the world could heal my broken remote-Hilary heart. 

Photos by Angela Eichhorst.