Friday 27th February 2026
Blog Page 4

Oxford cycle courier Pedal & Post closes after fourteen years of operation

0

Pedal & Post, a cycle courier company based in Oxford, has ceased trading after more than a decade of operating in the city, following the loss of a major client.

The eco-courier entered liquidation earlier this year. Christopher Benton, the CEO and founder of Pedal & Post, told Cherwell: “Despite exploring every possible avenue to continue trading, the loss ultimately made the business unsustainable.” He added that following a review of forecasts and options, the company made the “difficult decision to cease trading”.

The company’s closure has resulted in the loss of around 60 jobs in Oxford and London.

Pedal & Post, was founded in Oxford in 2013 and expanded to London last July, but the loss of this major client, which Cherwell understands to be e-scooter rental company Voi, resulted in the closure of its Oxford and London sites. Its involvement with Voi was to service e-bikes and e-scooters. By transporting large volumes of freight on cargo bikes or bikes with trailers, Pedal & Post deliveries reduced the volume of delivery vans entering the city centre.

Over its 14 years of operation in Oxford, Pedal & Post delivered millions of items across the city, serving residents, local businesses, and national logistics firms. Its work ranged from local coffee and vegetable box deliveries to last mile deliveries for major couriers like DPD, Yodel, and Evri. The company also conducted critical medical deliveries such as cancer medications for hospitals and NHS trusts. 

Robin Tucker, Co-Chair of the Coalition for Healthy Streets and Active Travel (CoHSAT) told Cherwell: “We’re very sad to hear that Pedal & Post have gone into administration after losing a major client. Their bright blue cargo bikes and friendly riders have been a cheering sight on Oxford streets for more than a decade, reducing traffic congestion and pollution, and transporting vital medical supplies through traffic jams.”

Tucker highlighted the scale of the company’s work, noting that Pedal & Post “transported a considerable volume of freight and packages, most notably consolidating deliveries to many Oxford colleges from several package companies on a single large cargo bike, or bike with trailer, rather than being several vans”. He added that their closure “may lead to an increase in van traffic and with it congestion, pollution, and road danger in the centre of Oxford”.

Tucker also pointed to the wider policy context, explaining that Oxford’s Temporary Congestion Charge and upcoming traffic filters permit vans to enter the city for free, while the city’s existing Zero Emission Zone incentivises the use of electric vehicles.

In recent years, Oxford has seen the growth of publicly supported e-cargo-bike schemes, alongside private operators offering a range of delivery models. Some local courier companies, such as Velocity Cycle Couriers, operate mixed fleets combining e-cargo bikes with electric vans, allowing them to handle larger or longer-distance deliveries alongside bike-based work. 

Tucker described Pedal & Post as an ethical business, where all riders were paid the Oxford Living Wage and trained to high standards. Benton told Cherwell the company’s current focus is on supporting its team through the transition, including “helping people find new roles, transferring contracts where possible, and keeping riders in work” within the cargo-bike sector.

Benton went on to say to Cherwell  “While it’s incredibly hard to see the business come to an end, we’re proud of the impact it had on the city, the people it employed, and the conversations it helped start around sustainable urban logistics,” adding that “Pedal & Post showed that a different kind of delivery model is possible – one that puts people, communities, and the environment first. While this chapter is closing, the idea that cities can be cleaner, fairer, and more human through cargo-bike logistics is very much alive”.

‘Curly quotation marks’ and ‘Americanisms’: How does Oxford detect AI use?

0

It was announced in September last year that Oxford would be the first university in the country to offer ChatGPT Edu to all students. Earlier that year, a survey by the Higher Education Policy Institute found that 92% of students had used AI in some form at university, with 88% reporting to have used generative AI in assessments.

These figures have surged since 2024, when only 53% of students admitted to having used generative AI in assessments. The survey only shows the picture from students themselves across the country. How is Oxford, an institution renowned for intellectual rigour and world class academia, keeping up with the AI revolution? 

The increase in misconduct cases

Between July 2023 and January 2026, there were a total of 33 cases of suspected AI misconduct handled by the University. 30 of these cases relate to coursework, while the other 3 were for examinations.

As would be expected, the number of suspected AI misconduct cases has increased drastically in the past year. There were only three cases reported in 2024, whereas the following year saw 28 cases, marking an increase of 833%.

The highest number of cases received in one month is four, which has happened four times. Between August 2023 and July 2024, there was not a single case of suspected AI use reported to the Proctors’ Office. Since the release of ChatGPT Edu, there have been eleven cases.

Interestingly, AI in itself is still not classed as a separate category of academic misconduct when handled by the University. Instead, these cases are classified as ‘plagiarism’, according to a freedom of information (FOI) request by Cherwell.

By contrast, another FOI request sent to the University of Bristol shows far higher numbers of AI cases at other universities. In the 2023/24 academic year, Bristol issued 526 penalties for suspected AI misconduct, dwarfing Oxford’s figures by some margin.

Tell tale signs

Cherwell’s freedom of information request also shines a light on the indicators used in determining whether academic work is the product of AI. 

Indicators like fake quotes, factual inaccuracies and prompts left in text are considered the most obvious indicators of suspected AI misconduct. Other indicators, however, are more up for debate. For example, students would “not normally have been taught” to use em-dashes in their writing.

Another indicator of potential misconduct is the use of ‘americanisms’. The guidance does note that international students are more likely to have learned American English, though mixing British and American English in the same text is considered a sign that AI may have been used. Other indicators include curly quotation marks, unusual levels of repetition, poorly argued prose, highly polished text, and bland statements.

The internal guidance is prefaced by a disclaimer that the indicators “may not provide definite proof that the student used AI without permission”, and urges the Proctors to consider each case holistically.

The accused

Though the data relates only to cases of AI misconduct in officially assessed work – rather than in tutorials or collections – Cherwell spoke to students who have faced accusations of AI usage by their college.

One modern languages student, who graduated last year, was accused of using AI in collections in his final year. He explained that he was called into a meeting and that his tutor wanted to escalate the complaint further. He told Cherwell: “I was very scared that, if she thought I had used AI when I hadn’t, how is it going to go in my finals?”

He told Cherwell that their way of checking was putting the essay question into ChatGPT, and it came out with a similar answer. He explained that this approach “is not a valid way of checking if someone used AI at all.”

When asked whether the ordeal changed the way he approached academic work, he said: “It didn’t change the way I approached it because I am really stubborn and I love an em dash.”

Another student that Cherwell spoke to, however, has been more inclined to approach academic work differently following accusations from tutors of AI usage. She explains how the discrepancy between different tutors’ attitudes towards AI may therefore leave students without a clear answer as to when, if at all, AI use is acceptable in academic work.

She told Cherwell that she “lost all confidence” when she stayed behind after a tutorial to ask questions about a topic which she was curious about, but her tutor instead questioned if she had used AI to collect notes and plan the essay.

However, in tutorials with younger tutors, she explained that they tend to be more open to using AI tools to break down a question and understand difficult concepts. She told Cherwell: “I often wonder whether, if I had more time to break down and review the information for my essays, I would have a more sufficient understanding of the topic and be able to write a coherent essay without needing to cut corners by using AI.”

What the experts say

Thomas Lancaster, Principal Teaching Fellow in Computing at Imperial College London, told Cherwell that, although guidance regarding the use of AI in universities exists, the biggest challenge is that it isn’t always consistent or up to date. The key issue, he explains, is that “so much of it assumes that every academic discipline operates in the same way”. 

One way in which some universities have attempted to cope is by increasing the number of closed book, handwritten exams.  Oxford made this change for its modern languages in May 2025 due to fears over AI, though the move sparked debate from students at the time who would have to adapt to a form of assessment that they had not anticipated. 

However, when asked whether a blanket shift to in-person, handwritten examinations would be a viable solution to the AI misconduct conundrum, Lancaster told Cherwell: “I think that would be completely inappropriate. Most universities in the UK just aren’t set up for an exam based curriculum, and frankly, handwriting just isn’t a skill that people have. This also limits what people can accomplish, which is very different for preparing students for an AI-first world.

“The Oxford deal with OpenAI really showed the University being at the forefront of AI adoption, although the educational sector has moved on since then… There’s nothing wrong with an assessment testing the ability of students to work with modern technology, but the assessment has to be phrased in those terms. Similarly, there’s nothing wrong with AI free assessments. It’s all about creating a balance.”

Ben du Boulay, Emeritus Professor of AI at the University of Sussex and Editor of the Handbook of Artificial Intelligence in Education, also has ideas for how assessments can adapt to the challenge of AI. He told Cherwell that, in some cases, “it may be advantageous to allow students to use a large language model (LLM) but require them to submit both the LLM’s answer as well as their improved version of that answer, highlighting and explaining the changes that have been made”.

Boulay also advocates for more student training, telling Cherwell that it should make clear what it means to be a student, how an assignment develops understanding and skill, and that being a student means improving metacognitive understanding and regulation.

A spokesperson for Oxford University told Cherwell: “’The University is committed to encouraging the ethical, safe, and responsible use of AI and it has published clear guidance on this for students who use AI tools to support their studies. Unauthorised use of AI for exams or submitted work is not permitted and students should always follow any specific guidance from their tutors, supervisors, department or faculty. 

“Oxford’s teaching model emphasises the importance of face-to-face learning and requires students to clearly demonstrate subject knowledge, critical thinking and evidence-based arguments. Together with clear guidance on responsible use of AI for study, and policy on AI use in summative assessment, this helps to safeguard against inappropriate or unauthorised use of AI. Where concerns about unauthorised use are raised, cases are reviewed via established academic misconduct processes. All policy and guidance is under constant review, in response to rapid changes in the AI landscape.”

Portrait of Nobel laureate Malala Yousafzai revealed at Lady Margaret Hall

0

A portrait of Nobel Peace Prize laureate and Oxford alumna Malala Yousafzai was revealed last week at Lady Margaret Hall. Yousafzai, a former college member, graduated from Oxford with a degree in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics (PPE) in 2020.

The artwork was commissioned by Lady Margaret Hall in collaboration with the Oxford Pakistan Programme, on whose advisory body Yousafzai sits.

The portrait was revealed at Lady Margaret Hall’s annual Founders and Benefactors Dinner early this month. In the Lady Margaret Hall news update, Yousafzai said: “I am incredibly grateful to Lady Margaret Hall for commissioning this portrait and for the trust it represents. I accept this honour with the hope that it helps open doors for many others.”

Yousafzai also hoped that the portrait would serve as an encouragement for other women: “More than anything, I hope it serves as a reminder that a girl from Swat Valley belongs here – and that the next girl from a village in Pakistan, Afghanistan, or anywhere else, belongs here too.”

In a news update on the Lady Margaret Hall website, the painter, Isabella Watling, expressing gratitude for the opportunity: “It was a huge honour to paint Malala’s portrait.In the picture, I wanted to try and capture some of her strength and grace. I found it was unusually challenging to finish, because of the pressure of painting such a well-known face.”

Yousafzai, a Pakistani activist who has championed the right to girls’ education, remains the youngest Nobel Peace Prize laureate in history. She grew up in Swat Valley, Pakistan, and survived a 2012 assassination attempt by the Taliban after criticising the militant organisation’s restrictions on women’s educational opportunities.


Alongside her father, Ziauddin Yousafzai, Malala Yousafzai has headed the non-profit organisation Malala Fund since 2013. The organisation “invests in civil society organizations who are challenging the systems, policies and practices that prevent girls from going to school in their communities”.

Techno, tragedy, and medieval monologuing: ‘Brew Hill’ in conversation

0

Oxford’s student drama scene has plenty of original writing based on fractured relationships, but none quite this random. Kilian King’s Brew Hill watches the deterioration of the romance between Nat (Trixie Smith) and Gordon (Jem Hunter), two broke former art students. Their romance is unusual in more ways than one: Gordon has an anxious condition which he comforts exclusively by checking flights to Berlin. The onstage action is interrupted by the presence of Flemish Renaissance painter Pieter Bruegel (Hugh Linklater), who appears in Nat’s ‘visions’. As the play progresses, the lines between the couple’s story and Bruegel’s become blurred. Cherwell went behind the scenes to find out more about what audiences can expect. 

I watched the latter half of a full run of the script, sat behind a busy stage management team (Matida Lambert and Lucy Davis) taking notes on scene changes. Though outside of the performance space, the actors were highly energised. At points they leapt out of their seats to mimic the onstage blocking. The scenes I watched were highly comic, with Hannah Wiseman (Kirsty) especially making the mini audience (myself and the crew) laugh. Audiences will be surprised by how easy the cast makes it to laugh at the word ‘mmm’ alone. 

After this light-hearted run had finished, the rehearsal turned to a more serious scene, exploring Nat and Gordon’s relationship. The jokes from before were laid aside and the cast became highly focused. The differences between Smith’s joyful, chaotic portrayal of Nat and Hunter’s quietly insufferable Gordon became evident. King’s feedback was both emotion-based and vibes-based, asking for a “little bit more deflation” in their tone, and later explaining one moment as “this is them when they’ve reached flow state.”

The cast have been active participants in creating the final product. Co-producer Marlene Favata explained that the script was only finalised about two weeks ago. Brew Hill has been with King for much longer. He told Cherwell that the historical aspect of the plot first wedged itself in his head a year ago, as whilst visiting family in Berlin he resolved to turn his love of Bruegel’s artistry into a play. The idea has now developed into an unusual mixture of techno and tragedy, with a side of medieval monologuing. Delving deeper into the metaphor behind the inclusion of Bruegel, King explained that, while the artist’s paintings look bucolic at first glance, “there’s a lot of darker, nastier stuff” revealed when one looks closer. This parallels the imperfections in the play’s central relationship. 

Viewers may wonder what breweries have to do with a Flemish painter. The answer is nothing, but King thought Bruegel and ‘Brew Hill’ sounded close enough to work a brewery plotline into the script. Once he realised they actually sound pretty different, he was undeterred: “I thought, that can still work if the character is as dumb as me.”

Such self-deprecation doesn’t hold given his cast’s evident excitement towards his concept. There were points where cast members directed questions at King themselves, equally as curious to understand King’s starting intentions. On their reasons for getting involved, Smith cited her love of art, and Hunter told Cherwell he was “very interested in dreams”. These themes are reflected in the set, which aims to capture the play’s modern, naturalistic and historic, abstract elements. The back half of the stage holds the couple’s flat, and the thrust arrangement allows the front part of the stage to incorporate a variety of settings.

In answer to the question of why King cast each actor, he mentioned the chemistry between Smith and Hunter as well as Linklater’s strong monologue skills. The workshopping process seemed to have given the cast a charming closeness. Wiseman remembered lengthy discussions, one about Gordon’s character for “four hours” which brought up “every relationship trauma”. Much emphasis was placed on how much Hunter hates Gordon, while remaining convinced that he is a ‘self-insert’ from King. King was cautious to comment on whether Gordon bears his likeness.

The question of what the audience should leave thinking was difficult. The play can be interpreted in so many different ways. King joked that he’d like the audience to start their own breweries. Linklater wanted them to high-five (as one does after a good play). More seriously, King explained that the audience can reflect on the unease created when “one person wants to stay and one person wants to go”. For Favata, this reminds her of school friends left behind when she moved to Oxford. Wiseman also related it to friendship. Hunter’s idea was most poignant: his takeaway from playing Gordon is that “just because you have good intentions doesn’t mean you can’t hurt someone.”. 

I’d already been partially convinced by Assistant Director Roselynn Gumbo’s promotional coasters (ingenious, given the play’s focus on beer). Spending time with Pecadillo Productions made it even clearer that their work is something unique. The play is a nod to Renaissance artistry that stays on the right side of pretentious. In one word? After some scrambling, different cast members suggested ‘community’, ‘escape’ and ‘techno!’. Without a doubt, something good is brewing. 

Brew Hill runs at the Burton Taylor Studio, 17th-21st February. 

It’s 2016’s world, and we’re just living in it (or are we?)

0

Barely a month has passed since we made our flustered entry into 2026. But it seems like the verdict is already in: your honour, we’ve had enough. Bring back 2016. Tastes were bad, but times were better. You’ll find this nostalgia in the vines and 2016 outfit inspo reels on your Instagram feed. It’s in the colourful return of Zara Larsson’s Lush Life. Many influencers I follow, from pop culture satirists to the guy who sings ballads about the Louvre heist, are posting pictures of themselves from ten years ago. My generation on Anglophone social media have decided to fall back in love with fidget spinners, Snapchat filters, and sappy Tumblr quotes.

2016 is childhood. It’s an aesthetic. It’s kitsch. It’s embarrassing, therefore sincere. It’s collective. It’s everyone’s “last normal year”, because, so it goes, the first Trump presidency ruptured the timeline and the American timeline is universal. And above all, best of all, 2016 is gone forever. The past is the absolute elsewhere. If it were not so, we couldn’t have shaped it in the exact likeness of our longings. If we could actually have 2016 back, we would no longer make it our cathartic refuge.

Was 2016 really so great? You’d have to be sufficiently affluent and unperturbed to enjoy that year as a paradise lost. The 2016 divide would be nonsensical to those for whom the world has always been on fire. As for myself, I was in my early teens in 2016. My feelings towards it are fond but illusionless, and the year doesn’t stand out among the others. I was semi-familiar with the pop culture references that the trend reminisces today, but not raised in it. China’s 2015 military parade lodged itself more intimately in my political memory than Brexit and Trump did in 2016. What it’s making me see is that the trend exists only in a depersonalised and depoliticised memory. There you have an aesthetic, a utopian field of signs.

But this is nothing new. We’ve always been nostalgic, and its utopias have always been consumable. No matter how jaded we are with Disney remakes, they just keep coming, in the hyper-real image of our childhood. Studio Ghibli aesthetics are nostalgic: already, generative AI has pushed out numerous stylistic replicas. 90s Britpop is nostalgic, and it still sells – ask anyone who got an overpriced Oasis ticket in 2024. Cottagecore is nostalgic: a quick Pinterest search shows us the quaint white curtains and garden paths of a pre-internet pastoral, with its tactful amnesia of the real labours of country life. Post-socialism is nostalgic: I’ve seen the inert left-wing melancholia that is best pictured in vintage Sputnik pins and revolutionary internationalist posters. It goes with the embarrassed awareness that we’re wistful not for the past our grandparents lived, but for its unrealised ideals, now safely buried in a dead future. In nostalgia, there is a present futility that we dance around by being self-conscious, ironic, and entertained.

Last term my college hosted a 1920s-themed black tie dinner. The cheerful email reminded us that we, too, are in the hedonistic 20s, living through economic recession and authoritarian ascent. Happily for us, there would be live jazz in the bar afterwards. It was a great night, I committed to the bit. There I was, dancing Lindy Hop with my friend. I wore qipao in homage to the fashionable Shanghai ladies of exactly a century ago. We took pictures on a thrifted 2000s Fujifilm camera.

Yet inevitably, this was accompanied by the wry knowledge that the 1920s, too, were nostalgic. Europe’s traditional Right lamented the passing of religion and order. The Nazis were nostalgic for a mythical Germany of the pure-blooded Volk. Revivalist right-wing nostalgia today is sellable and iconographic, from MAGA hats to algorithms that push St. George’s flags and trad wife content to the right audiences. We’re buffeted on all sides by nostalgia of every kind. Absent-mindedly, industriously, we produce a great desire for pasts, and create desirable pasts to match. Then we buy them up.

The thing we really don’t know what to do about is the future. Late-night conversations with friends my age reveal the uneasy suspicion that we’re incapable of creating a future – individual or collective. We speak anxiously about graduating Oxford and the job market, about wasted potential, about the daily injustice that descends on others in our phone screens and not ourselves. It’s easy relief, especially now, to miss the 2010s. Through the cringy filters, it emerges as an innocent time where many futures felt possible.

Now that we’ve arrived, we’re convinced that we’re living – and responsible for – the worst possible one. Is the 2016 nostalgia trend not just pop culture brought back from the dustbins, but endlessly recycled facsimiles of lost hope? Is the power to multiply and consume our one truly democratic cultural power?

There’s something reassuring about the nostalgia that tells us our best years are behind us. Agency lost in the present regains dignity in an uncomplicated collective past. If now is the time of monsters, they’re happy we’re distracted. But it’s also the now that demands action and imagination from us. I’d like to think that the present, narrowing between desirable pasts and inconceivable futures, is still ground enough to stand on. Nostalgia gives us much-needed relief and fun, as long as it’s not paralysing. If the future struggles to be born, we need to start preparing for a livable one.

John Radcliffe Hospital hosts new institute for trauma, emergency, and critical care

0

A new Kadoorie Institute of Trauma, Emergency and Critical Care has been established within the University of Oxford. Based at the John Radcliffe Hospital, the new institution formalises a long-term collaboration between the Oxford Trauma and Emergency Care at the Nuffield Department of Orthopaedics, Rheumatology and Musculoskeletal Sciences (NDORMS) and the Critical Care Research Team at the Nuffield Department of Clinical Neurosciences (NDCN).

The Kadoorie Institute’s close collaboration with its host, the John Radcliffe Hospital, is designed to enable research into clinical effectiveness. Matthew Costa, Professor of Orthopaedic Trauma Surgery at NDORMS and one of the Institute’s directors, told Cherwell that the department aims to streamline research into Emergency Departments, trauma operating theatres, and Intensive Care Units. The institute will analyse “these three acute care specialities together so that our research spans the whole patient pathway”.

Both research and education form the focus of the Kadoorie Institute. Professor Costa told Cherwell: “Our educational work aims to provide the ‘outputs’ from this research in a way that is easily accessible to healthcare professionals and patients, whether it be online materials or face-to-face teaching.”

The Kadoorie Charitable Foundation, the Institute’s namesake, has played a pivotal role in its financial support. Professor Costa told Cherwell: “The Kadoorie Charitable Foundation has been supporting acute case research and education in Oxford for 20 years… Without their support, the Institute would not have been possible. We hope to continue this incredible relationship for many years to come.” The Institute’s launch comes at a time of increasing strain for the NHS, particularly in the field of emergency medicine. Costa told Cherwell: “Acute care in the NHS is seldom out of the press. Research to improve the outcomes for patients who need urgent treatments is therefore a key priority for the NHS. With ever increasing pressure on NHS resources, there is also a need to make sure that all new treatments are cost-effective as well as better for patients’ recovery.”

Grammy-nominated musician appointed Christ Church Composer in Residence

0

Christ Church has appointed American composer Nico Muhly as its first ever Composer in Residence. Based in New York, Muhly has been collaborating with Peter Holder, Director of Music of Christ Church Cathedral for several months. Muhly has previously been Composer in Residence at Sidney Sussex College in Cambridge, and a collaborator with Magdalen College.

The role of a Composer in Residence within Christ Church’s community is still largely undefined. Reflecting on the unique position, Muhly told Cherwell: “There doesn’t exist a handy document from Henry VIII’s HR department saying what it is that I should get up to.” Muhly sees his role to be a provider of music, both in the form of a complete set of service music, and for festivals and holidays throughout the year. The first of these musical contributions, With Harte and Hande, a carol inspired by a 16th century mystery play, received a performance on 17th January in Christ Church Cathedral.

Muhly’s relationship to the cathedral’s choristers has greater definition. He plans on introducing contemporary music to the music traditions of choristers, bridging the gap between the varying practices. Muhly told Cherwell: “I think my ability to speak their language can be useful in showing them music which wouldn’t normally come across their desks or headphones.”

In honour of the College Cathedral Choir’s 500th year anniversary, Muhler plans to premiere a new cantata this summer. Christ Church has long been a source of inspiration for Muhly, who has been “listening to their recordings since the beginning of time”. Muhly told Cherwell: “The goal is to write something that relates to the greater ChCh community, but also something which will have – as the saying goes, legs – which is to say that other choirs will want to perform it.”

Muhly’s experience includes commissions by Metropolitan Opera, Carnegie Hall, the Tallis Scholars, the New York Philharmonic, the Los Angeles Philharmonic, and the BBC. He has also worked with artists including Sufijan Stevens, the National, and Paul Simon, and has scored screen productions such as The Reader, Kill Your Darlings, and Pachinko

Muhly was nominated for a Grammy in 2022 for his composition ‘Throughline’, performed by the San Francisco Symphony. 

Reflecting on his role with regards to current and future music undergraduates, Muhly said: “I find that it’s often useful to have a composer Just Around [sic] the place, in the same way it’s good to have the number of a reliable cobbler or seamstress or somebody who can reliably read hieroglyphs – we can do a lot more than you think.”

University raises concerns over proposed cuts to Oxfordshire fire service provision

0

The University of Oxford has joined others in expressing concerns over Oxford County Council’s proposed cuts to the Oxfordshire Fire and Rescue Service (OFRS). The proposals, which would see reductions in the number of fire stations, fire engines, and firefighter posts, follow a review of fire service resources and emergency response capabilities across the country. 

The County Council’s public consultation on the reforms was open from last October until 31st January. It was extended beyond an original deadline of 20th January to allow for more feedback. Since then around 1500 responses have been received. 

The University of Oxford submitted a response to the consultation, expressing concerns over the plans. A spokesperson from the University told Cherwell that the proposed cuts “will significantly increase response times to the areas of highest risk, undermining protection for the city’s historic buildings, laboratories, and college estate, and reducing vital day-to-day fire safety engagement with the University”. 

The proposed changes include the closure of fire stations in Woodstock, Henley, and Eynsham, and the removal of six fire engines. Fire stations in Kidlington and Rewley Road, near the city centre, could be merged and replaced with a new station in North Oxford.  

The restructuring plan looks to prioritise the daytime availability of emergency fire services. Cherwell understands that, were the cuts to be implemented, there would be only five fire engines guaranteed to be available to cover all of Oxfordshire at night, leading to an increase in response times. Twelve-hour day shifts would be introduced for firefighters across the county, and 42 OFRS employees are at risk of being made redundant.  

In the consultation, Oxfordshire County Council stated that the closures have been considered because many employees are “unable to commit to offering the hours that they once might have”, leading to “persistent low fire engine availability”. It is stressed that the changes “are forecast to have a minimal impact on overall response performance”. 

More than 150 firefighters from across the county protested the cuts outside Oxford’s County Hall on 9th December. The Fire Brigades Union (FBU) have launched a campaign under the banner “Cuts Kill”, including a petition to have the proposals withdrawn. 

Jonathan Shuker, Acting Brigade Secretary for the FBU, told Cherwell: “No engagement with employees or the FBU was sought before these proposals were sent out to the public.” 

Anneliese Dodds, Labour MP for Oxford East, is among those who have declared their opposition to the cuts. She is urging Oxford residents to sign the FBU’s petition. Numerous local councils, including West Oxfordshire District Council, have also voiced their disapproval of the proposed reforms.   

The University of Oxford has seen several recent fires, notably in Reuben College offsite accommodation last November. On the 23rd of January, fire services were called to Wadham College’s main site after a blaze broke out. Shuker told Cherwell that these incidents “show exactly why OFRS should have city centre firefighting capabilities”. 

Oxfordshire County Council was approached for comment.

‘I don’t like the idea of hope’: An interview with Iya Kiva 

0

Iya Kiva is an award-winning Ukrainian poet, originally from Donetsk. Since 2014, when war first came to her region, she has lived in displacement. When I speak to Iya, she is in Lviv, where funeral processions for soldiers pass daily and the wounded walk the streets. Iya’s poetry explores her reality: her home, the texture of life under siege, the work of language in wartime.

Cherwell: Please give us a picture of your daily life.

Kiva: I live in Lviv, an old and beautiful city. By Ukrainian standards I am relatively safe, although from time to time there are attacks and civilians are killed and injured here. I live near a military hospital, so every day I see soldiers being treated there. War is not something far away, you see it every day, just by going out into the street.

I live near Lychakivska Street, where funeral motorcades for soldiers pass. They are accompanied by a mournful folk song that became popular after the Maidan in 2014. I can look out the window and see public transport stopping out of respect for the dead, people kneeling. When I go to Kyiv, the situation is different. I hear explosions, listen to the shaheds circling the house where I stay, see rockets or drones shot down. Sometimes the whole night passes like this.

This is my reality, in which I write, translate, edit, read, and think. But this is only from the outside. My internal state is unstable. Since February 2022, I have not had enough intellectual energy for daily tasks, because the events in Ukraine mentally exhaust even those who live in the rear. Cities you love are under attack. People you know are killed or injured. Even when it happens to people I do not know, or cities where I have never been, I feel the tragedy has happened to me. The Ukrainian community is now a big threatened body, of which I am part, and the pain in any part of this body is my pain too.

Cherwell: Your connection to Donetsk is evident in your work. For readers who only know the name of the city through the war, what was its character before?

Kiva: Donetsk appeared on the wave of 19th century industrialisation. My region is a region of resources: coal, salt, limestone, ore for metallurgy. The city arose around a metallurgical plant and mines, with capital from Wales, Belgium, Italy, France. Donetsk is a steppe, a place of heavy human interference in nature. The factories and mines are in the city itself, not outside it. My childhood impressions are of difficult ecology. Waste heaps, artificial mountains, are scattered throughout the city. They can be pink, ashen, black.

Roses are one of its symbols, like coal. There is an interesting dichotomy: hard work underground, which resembles hell, and beautiful roses on earth. Donetsk is also associated with Vasyl Stus, one of the most significant poets and dissidents in 20th century Ukrainian literature. His uncompromising, stubborn nature seems to me part of the Donetsk mentality. Inside me, Donetsk is an internal map: where I was born, studied, worked, and lived longest. A place that shaped me and was shaped by me.

Cherwell: In your writing, personal experience and war seem to merge. Do you construct that deliberately, or does it arise on its own?

Kiva: Poetry for me is a form of thinking, of exploring myself and the world. The war has been going on for almost eleven years now, and through poetry I explore the reality in which I live with, and in, war. With each year, it becomes harder to remember what life in Ukraine was like before, what I was like before, 2014.

I need to enter into resonance with some experience, thought, or reality for a text to emerge. It’s like caring for an orchid for a long time and one day seeing a flower on its stem.

I intuitively explore sound and meaning in language rather than rationally constructing them. I find it more interesting not to know where a thought, metaphor, or line will take me. I would call it the logic of water in a river, which makes its way by mastering the landscape and moving according to its features. This seems close to the pulsation of language itself. Language that unfolds through metaphors cannot know in advance what its new metaphor will be.

Poems are a tension between me and reality. I stretch like a string to extract sound from reality, to find out how it sounds.

Cherwell: My own writing sometimes reveals me to myself. Do you experience something similar?

Kiva: Yes, poetry is a place, almost a physical space, where I am most myself, where I am absolutely naked, defenceless, vulnerable. This vulnerability is also strength, because to expose myself through words requires courage. In poetry I am naked, but also as free as possible. Writing comes naturally to me, but reading poetry in public is still uncomfortable. I feel naked in the presence of other people.

The main principle does not change: write in your own language, rely on personal experience, honestly listen to your time, and recreate its music in poetry. After 2022, a sense of responsibility was added. To the living and dead Ukrainians of many generations. Culture is a kind of flash drive for recovering identity, especially through language. I’ve become more attentive to what I can capture in poetry, not out of compulsion, but by re-adjusting the optics to see more value in the everyday. Like changing the lens on a camera, even though you’re still the same photographer.

Cherwell: Is your poetry an act of resistance? Is language a battle, and are you fighting?

Kiva: I’m a little tired of these formulations. An act of resistance is to be a soldier, a paramedic, a volunteer, to make a donation. Poetry is an art that makes the resistance of Ukrainians visible. It allows me to feel my own experience and the experience of others at the level of specific stories and emotions, to touch this experience with my hands, roll it on my tongue, hold it in my ears, twirl it in my thoughts like music that resonates in the heart.

The war destroys not only people, cities, animals and nature, but also the intellectual potential of Ukrainians as a community. Writing during war is difficult, emotionally, psychologically, practically. In this sense, Ukrainian poetry is an act of resistance to the destruction of intellectual resources and culture.

Cherwell: What is challenging you recently?

Kiva: Since the full-scale invasion, the hardest thing has been trying to control my emotions. Living in a war means living where one grief is replaced by another, one news of death by another. Ukrainian pain today is like sailing endlessly in a stormy sea, not knowing whether you will reach the shore, without seeing the shore. There is much more experience now than emotional, physical, and psychological resources to live it and reflect on it. Taking responsibility for my emotions in such circumstances is not easy, but necessary, in order to be an effective adult on whom other people can count.

Cherwell: What are you hopeful for?

Kiva: I don’t really like the idea of hope. For me, hope is associated with powerlessness, a passive role, shifting responsibility to some imaginary figure; God, another adult, snow, rain, so I don’t like it. To have hope is a great luxury. And in the world of recent changes, our already unfair world has begun to look even less hopeful. I prefer to ask myself: what can I do? You can always find some specific answer to this question if you are honest with yourself.

Oxford University to co-lead UK-Japan quantum technology projects

0

The University of Oxford has been appointed to co-lead one of the three flagship projects of a program of science and technology collaboration between the UK and Japan. This was announced by UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer and Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi during Starmer’s visit to Japan on 31st January. The projects will pursue the development of quantum technology in computing.

“Distributed and secure quantum computation”, a project led by Oxford’s Professor David Lucas and the University of Tokyo’s Professor Mio Murao, addresses the challenge of moving beyond isolated laboratory experiments towards large-scale, interconnected quantum systems. The project aims to “build the foundations of a quantum internet”.

Funded by the UK’s Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council (EPSRC) and the Japan Science and Technology Agency (JST), the new quantum projects have received a total of £9.2 million. The EPSRC contributed £4.5 million, and the JST provided £5.2 million.

There will also be a project focused on “massive scaling of semiconductor quantum-dot technologies”, co-led by Dr Masaya Kataoka of the National Physical Laboratory in the UK and Professor Tetsuo Kodera of the Institute of Science Tokyo. Another initiative will work on “quantum control and sensing”, co-led by Professor Janet Anders of the University of Exeter and Professor Masahito Ueda of the University of Tokyo.

The main aim of Oxford’s project is to integrate advanced hardware with privacy-preserving protocols, enabling ultra-secure communication and faster scientific discovery, while training future specialists to strengthen global quantum networks over the next five years.

Professor Lucas is an experimental atomic physicist working in the field of trapped-ion quantum computing. This approach to computing uses charged atomic particles, or ions, as physical qubits, the fundamental unit of information in quantum computing, trapped in electromagnetic fields. Professor Murao’s Japanese team will contribute complementary knowledge of quantum communication theory, ion-trap hardware, and advanced manufacturing.

In a press release, Professor Lucas said: “Similar to how the internet connects classical computers, future quantum advances depend on networking quantum processors together. This presents profound scientific and engineering challenges, particularly in ensuring these networks are scalable, secure, verifiable, and integrated.

“By fostering deep integration between leading UK and Japanese teams and their respective programmes, we aim to create a coherent, full-stack architecture and deliver concrete integration outcomes that amplify the value of current national efforts, rather than duplicating foundational developments.”