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The Former Ambassador

By
Ben Hayes
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Image Credit: Damian M. Marhefka.

Steven Pifer greets me at the door with a limp. He’d broken his kneecap en route to Kyiv three weeks ago, and scrambling for hotel bomb shelters in the wee hours of the morning hadn’t done his injury any favours. “The nice thing about this,” he jokes about his injury, “is I got dispensation to use the elevator.” 

Pifer was the American ambassador to Ukraine from 1998 to 2000. His house reflects it. Blue-and-yellow flags, Oval Office photos with Bill Clinton, and a ceremonial mace from Kyiv decorate his home in Morgan Hill, California, where he settled down after twenty-seven years serving in Washington and abroad. Pifer enjoys the change of scenery. “Walk twelve minutes that way,” he says, “and I’m out in vineyards and in orchards. I like it here.” The former ambassador, though, is anything but retired in the larger sense. It’s because of his ongoing involvement in Ukrainian affairs that Morgan Hill Life publisher Marty Cheek and I are here for an interview.

Pifer’s time in the State Department began in 1978. He served his probationary years under Carter, managed the arms control portfolio at the Moscow embassy during the Reagan administration, and was a deputy assistant secretary of state in the Bush Jr. years. It was in the Clinton administration where he found Washington-Moscow diplomacy to be particularly effective: it had the unusual setup of bringing all the people on U.S.-Russia issues into one room. Pifer hasn’t stopped trying to get people together for productive dialogue more than twenty years later. Track IIs (non-governmental conversations between former officials and academics) afford him the chance to continue engaging Russia in discussions in the present day. “I still take part in some Track IIs,” he tells us, “both on arms control and on Russia and Ukraine. For the arms control things we have to go to Istanbul because that’s one of the few places that Russians can get to.” Given the current tension between Washington and Moscow, Pifer reflects, nuclear arms negotiations may not go very far. Though ‘unofficial’, Track IIs may provide a window of opportunity for meaningful engagements while the war continues. “The State Department, they encourage these kind of discussions,” Pifer explains, “particularly because there’s no official Track I conversations going on. Having the Track II conversations at least maybe keeps some ideas going back and forth…When I was managing Track IIs, we would always set up times to go and brief somebody at State, at the NSC, ‘This is what we’re hearing.’ Sometimes we’d actually suggest some ideas. I’m happy to have a couple ideas that found their way into U.S. positions.”

Image courtesy of Steven Pifer.

Pifer’s present-day involvement isn’t limited to influencing policy. As he’d related at the door, he was fresh off his latest trip back to Ukraine. Knee propped up on a couch cushion, he talks us through his time there earlier in March. “Kyiv looked pretty normal,” he begins, “with a couple of exceptions. One was you saw more guys in uniform on the streets than I ever remember. In the building we got into, we had a chance to go and get a briefing from military intelligence. The buildings would be protected by sandbags or pill boxes. There were heavier guards there. When you would drive around, you’d see these tank barriers that were there in case they had to pull them in the street. Then there was the air raid. I’d never been in an air raid before. They said it was the worst that Kyiv had been hit with in six or seven weeks. Thirty-one missiles.” He takes a second to set the scene: 3:15 am, officials ushering guests into a shelter under the hotel. “We had one guy with us who was British—he was kind of our facilitator. He basically was plugged in. They would send us reports. He said, ‘OK, the Ukrainians reported that the bombers left such and such air base,’ and so that gives you an approximate time, by the time they get to their launch points, when the missiles come in… He goes, ‘Yeah, the cruise missiles now are all reportedly turned towards Kyiv,’ and then I think we heard about five or six explosions which we assumed were the air defences engaging overhead.” He worries for those who have undergone the violence for two years now. “I remember talking to a former Ukrainian colleague at the embassy—this was early on in the war,” he recalls. “And she said one day she’d had to go to the bomb shelter five times in the night. That’s just got to be really draining.”  

This visit was not a one-time event. Early in the interview, Pifer speculates on Zelensky’s reasons for passing up a consensus national government, based on a conversation in Kyiv he had “about three weeks before the major Russian invasion.” I have to stop him there. “You were there three weeks before February 24th?” I ask incredulously. “January 30th to February 2nd,” he replies in stride. He notes that during his trip, most Ukrainians didn’t believe there would be a major Russian attack, and something must have changed shortly after his departure. “A lot of the targets that the Russians originally hit were empty warehouses, things like that, because the Ukrainians had moved out.” The Russians, according to Pifer, were less prepared. “A lot of parts of the Russian military, I think, only learned that they were going in at the last minute. There were reports that the Ukrainians had captured some Russian soldiers who had been in the initial invasion force heading forward to Kyiv, and they said they thought they were in Belarus on an exercise. At 9:00 pm, they were rousted out and told to suit up, before being given weapons and informed the operation would start at 4:00 am. After a few sentences of reflection, he draws his conclusion: “I think they [the Russians] seriously thought they would be welcomed as liberators.”

Over two years into the war, Russia’s “liberation” has stalled thanks to fierce Ukrainian counter offensives in 2022 and a gruelling stalemate thereafter. This wasn’t anticipated—Pifer recalls that at the start of the conflict, Ukrainians forces had opened up one of the Russian trucks they had shot down. “It was full of brand new dress uniforms, which [the Ukrainians] assumed was for the [Russian] victory parade.” Even so, doubt as to Ukraine’s ability to continue the war effort indefinitely is growing. Pifer’s view of the conflict’s end is more hopeful. “At some point I think the number of what the Russians call ‘Cargo 200’ (transport aircraft or trucks bringing back the remains of soldiers who have been killed in action) – does that number become so high that people are going to think this is not worth it?” Russia, Pifer reveals, has taken measures to avoid this end, through high salaries in the Far East and Caucasus to promote recruitment. “If you broke down the war by ethnicity, what you would see is that a lot more non-ethnic Russians are being killed than ethnic Russians in part because they’re signing up for this.” In itself, this is not a new revelation—the Moscow Times reported earlier this year that ethnic Russians are underrepresented in total casualties. Pifer’s on-the-ground observations, though, allow him to bring this disparity to bear on an analysis of the war overall. “When I was in Ukraine,” he shares, “one of the Ukrainians said, ‘If you ever got to a point where, to keep the war going, Putin had to begin drafting people from big cities, especially Moscow and Saint Petersburg, at that point you might begin to see the elite turn against the war.’” The former ambassador takes a moment to run back the clock to the 1980s on this analysis, returning to his days under Reagan at the embassy in Moscow. “In Afghanistan, where with probably only 15,000-20,000 Soviet soldiers [killed in action], you had these mothers’ committees organising and they were a fairly strong pressure point. And Gorbachev ultimately concluded that Afghanistan wasn’t worth it. And they left.”

Pifer has alluded to continuing involvement in the conflict on both sides of the Atlantic throughout the interview, so I press him further. These days, he reveals, he’s part of a group of former U.S. ambassadors to Ukraine who are still active in current affairs. “When I get back to Washington, I try to see people at the State Department, at the National Security Council, and try to push and pull them, trying to push the U.S. government to do a bit more, but that’s entirely on the outside. It’s based, I think, on our calculation, at least my own calculation [on] helping Ukraine prevail. This is very much in the national interest, setting aside my feelings about Ukraine.” There’s a fraction of a pause as he collects his thoughts. “There’s also kind of a personal reason. Back in the 1990s, I was involved in the negotiations with Ukraine where they gave up what was at the time the world’s third largest nuclear arsenal.” Part of the deal, Pifer details, was that Russia committed to respect Ukraine’s sovereignty and not use force against Ukraine. “We told the Ukrainians that if the Russians tried something, we would be supportive.” Pifer caveats his message by clarifying that no official deals were made, but returns quickly to his decades-ago commitment. “We said we would do things,” he states firmly. He believes the United States is now living up to that commitment by providing Ukraine arms and other support. He notes that in the early 1990s, “there was a collective failure. Both we in Washington, but also our Ukrainian counterparts in Kyiv, we didn’t foresee what would happen in 2014 or 2022.” He stops just long enough for me to throw out a quick affirmation as I add to my notes. “But that’s kind of secondary,” he says briskly. “The main reason is there’s an American interest there, and that Europe becomes a much more dangerous place if the Ukrainians lose.”

Pifer has a Zoom meeting with the Council on Foreign Relations to attend, so after a generous hour and a half of questions, he shows us out. We shake hands, exchange numbers, and walk out into the April sun. The door swings shut as the former ambassador limps back to his study to catch the call. Two decades after leaving the foreign service, Steven Pifer hasn’t slowed down in his commitment to the people of Ukraine.

Oxford University to meet with students from OA4P

By
Cherwell News
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Image Credit: Selina Chen

A month after the Oxford Action for Palestine encampment began, students announced that yesterday night Oxford University’s Vice-Chancellor, Irene Tracey, and other senior members of administration have responded to their email request for a meeting, and students are in the process of arranging a discussion.

According to a statement from Oxford Action for Palestine (OA4P), the University is “expressing the desire to work with the students on matters pertaining to OA4P’s demands… Gaza can’t wait, and neither can we. We are eager to meet with the Vice Chancellor and the Administration, and we look forward to working closely with the University to address our collective obligation to act in the face of this genocide.”

With a first camp in front of the Natural History Museum and a second camp on the Radcliffe Camera lawn, the encampment has seven demands primarily relating to the University’s assets and investments, calling for divestment from Israeli companies, arms companies, and Barclays Bank. An initial University statement, released on 14th May, did not include plans to look into divestment and affirmed its ties with Barclays.

Since then, the encampment had escalated, including staging a ‘die-in’ at graduation and a sit-in inside the University administration offices in Wellington Square, where 17 protesters were arrested.

OA4P had stated that the Rad Cam tents will leave as soon as the University begins negotiations with a set of preconditions. Tracey’s statement after the arrests called the preconditions “prejudicial” as it includes “progress towards six demands” and that OA4P “have not been transparent about their membership nor whose interests they represent.”

OA4P has since denied those claims, stating that it never asked for progress toward its six demands. Rather, its preconditions include a willingness to negotiate in good faith, regular meetings, and amnesty for all students involved in the encampment. It is unclear whether the University’s willingness to meet means the Rad Cam encampment will leave.


Cherwell has contacted the University for comments.

The many voices of Franz Kafka: Reading The Metamorphosis

By
Georgia Campbell and Olivia Sloan
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In this notebook Franz Kafka crosses out fragments of stories but keeps untouched a drawing of a horse and cart, possibly a hearse, sketched in the same vein as his famous stick-men. MS. Kafka 19, fol. 18r

Spilling out of the gates of the Sheldonian Theatre and onto Broad Street, the lengthy queue for a public reading of Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis (1915) took us by surprise: if we had been looking for a sign of the author’s enduring popularity, surely we had found it.

For the 100-year anniversary of Kafka’s death – to the day, the event marked a culmination of the ‘Oxford Reads Kafka’ program: a celebration of the author’s life and works that has involved exhibitions, talks, and performances throughout Oxford in the last few weeks. Although Kafka was Czech, and all of his work was written in German, the bulk of the Kafka archive has been held in the Bodleian Libraries for around 60 years.

The novella, recited in full for the event (using the recent Joyce Crick translation), follows Gregor Samsa – a man who awakes one morning to discover that he has turned into a “monstrous vermin”, usually interpreted as a cockroach-like insect. He attempts to grapple with his new physical state and ultimately becomes completely alienated from his family, who by the end of the story are only relieved at the news of his death.

Speakers ranged from diplomats to undergraduates, artists to University officials, including Vice-Chancellor Professor Irene Tracey. It was truly a convergence of all the walks of life that Kafka had inspired. The audience too – filling the Sheldonian almost to capacity – consisted of an impressive range of ages.

The event ran for almost three hours (an hour longer than scheduled), and whilst a few audience members inevitably had to leave early, the range of reading styles and alternations between different types of speakers provided just enough variety to keep the text alive and ‘transforming’ throughout the evening. In addition, each member of the audience was given a copy of the book to read along. There were certainly moments that dragged a little, especially in the second half (one of the couples seated next to us fell asleep) but these sections did not last long.

The welcoming introduction to the event announced new literary analyses of Kafka’s most celebrated work, discussing the potential readings of the book concerning ideas of body dysmorphia, self-doubt and disease (specifically Kafka’s battle with tuberculosis). This offered a new perspective to us, having both read the text before, which heightened the experience as a whole.

At one point, Oxford Biology professor, Tim Coulson, snuck behind the screen to change into a cockroach costume – a change which, due to the position of the projector, unintentionally cast a shadow onto the screen that gave the impression of the professor’s own metamorphosis, as spindly insect legs and polystyrene wings were flung about in haste. Whilst the shadow was likely accidental, it livened up the room before we encountered the harrowing third part of the book.

After flicking his new antennae over his shoulder with a stylish flourish, Coulson’s reading was interspersed with bouts of chuckles from the audience. There was something delightfully incongruous about Kafka’s words being uttered from a cockroach costume, by a Biology professor, in an almost 400 year-old University theatre: an absurdity that Kafka himself would perhaps have appreciated.

The intersection between Kafka’s works and broader social conflicts did not go unacknowledged. Kennedy Aliu, Vice President of Liberation and Equality at the Oxford Student Union, gave a brief statement before beginning his reading. Citing the ongoing conflicts in Sudan, Palestine, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, he asked that the audience use the text to “bear witness to suffering and atrocities”: situations that he described as “Kafkaesque”. His words were received with a brief round of applause. Similarly, both Jenni Lynam and Mia Clement (also involved in the Oxford SU) made references to the Palestinian flag in their outfit choices. 

The standout performance of the evening was, undoubtedly, that of writer and broadcaster, Lemn Sissay OBE. He playfully brought out the emotional nuances of the text: gasping for air as Grete (Gregor’s sister) lurches to open the bedroom window, and leaping into a breathy falsetto for the voice of Gregor’s mother. Having written a stage adaptation of the novella in 2023, it is no wonder that Sissay’s connection to the writing shone through, and he could be seen subtly but enthusiastically gesturing along to the other speakers’ words throughout the evening. 

The Bodleian Libraries website promised that the readings would “celebrate the power of Kafka’s voice today”, but it is difficult to know what Kafka, who died – virtually unknown – at 40, would have made of the event: a man who, by all accounts, had no designs on fame. In fact, the author requested that all of his unpublished work be burned after his death – thankfully ignored by his friend and literary executor, Max Brod. What was clear though, from the enthusiasm and range of the speakers and the attentiveness of the audience, was that the author’s words are just as vibrant and necessary as they were a century ago.

The event was an evening of poets, pupils and a professor in a cockroach costume: such a jumbled assortment would be difficult to pull off anywhere, let alone the Sheldonian Theatre, but it was one of which Kafka, we suspect, would have been proud. 

Romeo and Juliet review: ‘Seamless and brilliantly acted’

By
Kiaya Phillips
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Image Credit: Kiaya Phillips

I enter the Duke of York’s Theatre to a thumping soundtrack that rattles through my bones. It feels like I’ve entered the beginnings of a dystopian action film, like I’m waiting for something to jump out from around the corner. If he was trying to build tension then Jamie Lloyd does it well, because I couldn’t wait for the play to start. By the time I found my seat I was practically shaking with excitement (and a slight twinge of fear for what was in store). 

The stage is blackout to begin and then the light snaps on and ‘VERONA’ is projected across the stage; almost bare apart from four mic stands positioned in a semi circular fashion. The actors used these throughout the production to allow changes in volume, right down to a whisper. It added a haunting quality to some scenes, and an intensity to others. Another interesting tech choice came from the way actors entered the stage. Romeo starts in the wings of the stage, with a camera following him as he journeys to enter the main stage; a lady somewhere beside me in the stalls shrieked with excitement as Tom Holland blesses our presence, in all his buzz cut, tight white tank and baggy jeans glory – it was obvious he was the major ticket seller. 

And the love for him does not go unplaced. Holland put on a stellar performance as Romeo harking back to his before-film-stardom-days and fully embracing his theatrical roots; really making me reconnect with a Shakespeare play I have spent years hating (GCSE trauma…). But even more striking was his acting and reacting alongside Juliet, played by Francesca Amewudah-Rivers, that reminded me of the beautiful love that truly connects the play at its base. The tension between the two actors during the infamous balcony scene was undeniable, it had me giggling and kicking my feet, and I found myself truly wanting their love to succeed against society’s odds. The staging went against the conventions of the typical balcony scene, Lloyd placing the two stars beside one another centre stage rather than having Juliet on an elevated platform. Though proxemically they were close, their dialogue and facial reactions indicated that she was indeed still on a balcony above him. When they finally come together the tension mounts a notch further. They seem to be getting closer and closer and yet still not touching. When they finally do it’s like that building tension is finally released – before we remember again the high stakes nature of their meeting. As the scene ends I find myself hopeful for them, even though I know the tragic end that is to come. 

Another key scene in the play that was also utilised on stage was the fight, and ultimate death, scene between Tybalt and Mercutio. Lighting and tech is utilised well again here, a blackout and cacophony of sound disrupting the stage at the height of the fight, only to suddenly stop and snappily reilluminate the stage. The audience now finds Mercutio splayed across the floor screaming ‘a plague on both your houses’ with his dying breath, whilst he and all other characters on stage are smothered in thick red blood. The same cycle repeats except this time reilluminating the stage on Tybalt’s dying body, nevertheless, we are still just as shocked and gripped by this death as we were with Mercutio’s. This was also a smart way of cutting out a large choreographed fight scene that every Shakespeare fan will have seen a million times before, and still maintaining the shock factor that the text tries to convey with these sudden and brutal deaths. 

The production was seamless and brilliantly acted by every cast member. Finishing to a well deserved deafening applause and a standing ovation, Holland and Amewudah-Rivers take their final bow. “New, fresh and exciting” is a hard evaluation to achieve when doing Shakespeare, but I would deign to make that claim for this piece. If you are fortunate enough to get your hands on tickets, you are in for a wild ride.

Breaking down the value of a university education: Why we should stay committed to our study

By
Matthew Oulton
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Image Credit: Michael D Beckwith via Public Domain

We have all had this experience: you have a deadline coming towards you like a Japanese high speed freight train. Glancing at the clock, then at your open word document, then back at the clock. The cocktail of stress and apathy that leads you to a simple question – why am I even doing this?

Then you think of the fees you are paying: how expensive that stress in fact is. It can feel like we are at an elaborate fine dining restaurant where they ask the customers to do the dishes. To make matters worse, leaving university is rarely a smooth process. The straightforward ‘milk-round’ experience that earlier generations might have experienced, where graduate employers competed for graduates, seems to have passed like an overburdened bus.  

So, would we have been better off saving our money and forgoing the entire experience?

Whether university is ‘worth it’ is a surprisingly hard question to answer. You can’t just look at whether graduates earn more than everyone else, after all, since students are not a random sample of the population. Graduates do earn more than non-graduates, but university students aren’t a random subsample of the population. University selects both for academic capability as well as higher social status. Hence, taking university out of the equation, there is hardly a level professional playing field between would-be uni students and the people who do not attend. Maybe we would all be just as well off if we stuck it out and went straight into the world of work.

In favour of education, the first and classic response is to affirm that economic output aside, we can view a university level education as a consumption good, valuable at the point of practice. Granted, when you have a deadline looming or an imminent exam, it might not feel like study is all sunshine and roses. But surely some of the value of studying is that it gives us the time, space, and social environment to enjoy things that are harder to come by in working life: the capacity to flex our mental muscles and relishing the wonders of Nietzsche, string theory, Biblical hermeneutics or a Thursday night bridge with the promise of a Friday spent in quiet recuperation. The refrain learning for learning’s sake comes to mind, after the age-old Humboldtian model of education. 

This line of thought has an emotive pull, especially for those of us for whom the possibility of a lack of education and imposed ignorance because of economic or class-based barriers is a fundamental reality or, for the more privileged among us, is at least within familial memory. But the independent value of the free thought and the expansion of the mind through knowledge acquisition is notoriously difficult to justify – especially given the difficulty of disassociating the independent attraction of education from its status as a signifier of social class and how it is perceived as a tool for ascending social and material hierarchies. 

To what extent, then, are these perceptions correct? It seems obvious to say that studying is an investment. We study in the hope of improving our future labour market outcomes and time spent in education is, we tell ourselves, a way of increasing our lifetime human capital, and ensuring that we can be more productive in later life. For many, that will mean acquiring skills or qualifications that enable us to enter high power professions, many of which have a minimum graduate entry level or are requiring of particular university-level skills, and ultimately, if cynically, earn more throughout our lives. Another consideration might be that studying gives us increased time to ponder a career-choice before we commit to it. Instead of making hasty decisions, we are able to take time to develop, get a taste for what we like and make a more informed choice about our career preferences. And surely: if you enjoy your job, you are more likely to succeed in it. 

Much of this is speculative, however. Increasingly, apprenticeships offer alternative, cheaper pathways into high value professions such as law, engineering and finance for those who are unconvinced that four years of doddering aimlessly around student bars and lecture halls is a valuable use of time. And even for those of us, who have made the choice to invest in an education, the doubt often lingers that education’s promises will be fulfilled. Economists sometimes talk about ‘credence goods’ – products whose value is not possible to determine at the moment of consumption, but only over a long time. These goods require that the consumer ‘believes in them’ for a while, before they have any chance of being effective. You cannot expect to feel the benefits of going to the gym after a single session. The connection that you make between tricep extensions and massive gains is perceptually a very loose one, based on the wise words of fitness influencers and gym operating companies. You have to crush those snagging doubts that the influencers are wrong when you do not immediately see results, in order to eventually see results.  

If education is going to be an economic good, it will be a credence good. And one of the difficulties of credence goods is that their utility, their value is extremely hard to ascertain. Over a long period of time, there are so many variables that enter into the equation regarding the effects of a credence good, that those effects are potentially obscured from view. To make matters worse, it is likely that how education is consumed really matters for how economically effective it will turn out to be. For it to work, you have to commit to it, and trust not only that the overall experience will be worthwhile, but, much like those final, cumbersome tricep extension reps, that the marginal effort of handing in any given piece of work or doing an extra hour’s exam preparation will somehow translate into future benefit.

Thinking of education as a credence good, it is no longer obvious what value it drives. Fortunately, the data still speaks in its favour. A life-cycle earnings model estimated by the Institute for Fiscal Studies a few years ago found that almost all graduates increase their earnings through their education. Around 80%, meanwhile, increase their earnings enough that they are better off even considering the tuition fee repayments they have made. 

Those who do not make a net profit on their degree are generally clustered in a small number of very low return degree subjects and are also disproportionately at less selective universities. Interestingly, the category of subjects for which people are least likely to make a positive return through their lifetime is the creative arts. No doubt many graduates in the creative arts will know they could have earnt substantially more if they had trained as a plumber or a bricklayer, rather than having gone to university. For students of these subjects, one suspects that there is no long term expectation of profitability: it is the enjoyment of creative expression, or consumption value, that counts. 

So, on average, your degree probably is worth it. Like a long-acting medicine or steady exercise regime, it may not feel like it day-to-day, but the hours you’re spending pouring over another history essay is strongly associated with better social outcomes later in life. Interestingly, higher degree performance is also associated with higher lifetime earnings. So, when that poncy undergraduate who is too busy writing poetry to do her essays claims that ‘it doesn’t matter how well I do’, you can tell her how utterly misinformed she truly is.

What are the methods and processes by which a university level education confers (in most cases) economic value? For some degrees, of course, this is obvious. A medical student, for example, can trace a clear causal arrow between their degree and their subsequent job as a junior doctor. For others, there is no direct channel for the conference of economic benefit – especially when graduates enter into professions where they compete with ambitious and capable non-graduates.

Economists generally think of university level education as benefitting graduates via two distinct channels – signalling and human capital. The signalling channel, which is perhaps the most depressing of the two, is the less intuitive. It proposes that graduates earn more than non-graduates because degrees are really hard. They test students on attributes employers care about – willingness to work hard, personal organisation, as well as the student’s skills at writing or solving problems – and can thus be used as a ‘signal’ of worker quality. This channel, of course, suggests that even if all you have to talk about as a result of your study are the reasons for the collapse of the Umayyad empire, your potential employer is not put off. This channel, whilst no less important for us as students, suggests that education is all just a ‘costly signal’ that we use to attract an employer, like an elaborate plumage on a male peacock as it struts around in the hope of finding a mate. 

Secondly, education may well improve our skills. In the case of vocational degrees, perhaps, this is very obvious. A computer science or mathematics graduate might get a job coding probability in a company trading options. But even if you are employed outside of an industry with a clear link to your subject, you will probably use abilities you honed during your degree. As a graduate in Philosophy once told me, “every time I have to write something in a hurry, I feel those hundreds of hours of Philosophy essays come in handy.”

There are also ‘meta-skills’, which are important too. Skills which help in acquiring new skills. You have, doubtless, learnt to learn during your studies. You have probably learnt to manage deadlines. Even the most jaded graduate can surely accept that they are quicker at reading complicated material than they were prior to their studies. When you need to develop and learn in the future, these things will come in handy both for future employers, and to you as a worker, even where your intricate knowledge of British and Irish history in the years 1900-1921 may not. Many important skills of learning are not even domain-specific. If you spend years mastering fine art or music, the odds are that patience, the ability to exert undisturbed patience, and discipline were required and trained. Even if you don’t become an artist, those skills will not be wasted.

So does your degree prepare you for a job? Almost certainly. What job? Now, that is a harder question to answer.

It is difficult for two reasons. Firstly, as already discussed, most degrees do not point towards a clear vocation. Indeed, even the skills portfolio you acquire in studying is not always that indicative about what sort of job you should do.

But it is a mistake to view education as simply an entry point to a career. The idea that you only benefit from what you have learnt in your first job is nonsense. In many ways, it is least helpful when you’re applying for your first job, because employers are overwhelmed by the volume of job applications and use coarse filtering tools, like psychometric or situational judgement tests, for which your actual skills and education are virtually useless. It is in the years after you start working that your ability to progress and find new jobs will depend increasingly on your demonstrated aptitude.

Secondly, it’s hard to know what career paths will even look like in ten, twenty, or thirty years time. New industries and jobs will doubtless spring up, and even in the ones that exist the type of work will change. Who could have guessed that basic computing skills would come to be required in every job when our grandparents were starting their careers? What matters in the long-term is your ability to adapt and learn new things, and general education is a tool for preparing ourselves for that. The need for specific expertise and knowledge will always change over time, but education in a broad sense is unlikely to ever set you back.

So, resist the nihilistic urge to condemn education as nothing but a waste of time. It is a transformative opportunity; one that will benefit all of us throughout our lives. The opening up of university to more people in the UK is a huge change – for generations it was the preserve of the wealthy and the elite. It is a privilege that so many of us are now able to benefit from it.

Resist further the urge to downplay education as nothing more than a signal. Firstly, signals are good. They help to smooth the matching process between employer and employee and help guide us to jobs we are more likely to succeed in. Furthermore, better that we have education as an imperfect signal than even more primitive signals like parentage or postcode. Secondly, whilst it is a signal, for sure, it also provides the first step in building the tools to deal with an uncertain and changing world. Just as once reading and writing were seen as luxury skills that could be monopolised by a privileged few, advanced training is an increasingly vital requirement for working in a modern economy. Even where there is no obvious vocational outlet, study is important.

And finally, do not forget that part of the point of studying is to enjoy yourself. It is, in part, a consumption good. Do not believe older people when they say that university is the best time in your life – indeed your early twenties are often found to be a particularly stressful and difficult time of people’s lives. But full time study is an experience unlikely to be repeated, with many positive components. It is a generational privilege of ours to be so well educated. We might as well take advantage of it, as there aren’t very many others.

The Knight of the White Moon review: ‘Mirth, romance, and mediaevalesque larks’

By
Amina Poernomo
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Image Credit: Amina Poernomo

Tactically leaving the Summer VIII’s races early as the women’s Div I race came to an exciting close (up the House), Pimm’s still in hand, I rushed over to Peter’s to catch the performance.  With garden-play season in full bloom, I was excited to see The Knight of the White Moon for the Saturday closing performance. Not being a Peter’s native myself, I did not know what to expect, yet I was pleasantly greeted by an admirable display of mirth, romance, and mediaevalesque larks. 

The Knight of the White Moon chronicles the journey of a young man, as he embarks into the world to make his name as a poet. His yearning for a muse leads him to an oracle, who points him towards a small, nameless town, north of the Sierra Morena mountains, to find his poetic love. The plot was refreshingly unique, as we witnessed the confusions and frustrations of ‘romance’ hilariously enacted through the hubbub of strong characters. Fred Thompson, writer and co-director, has cited his inspirations as Don Quixote, Harold Pinter and Lewis Carroll, which certainly manifested in the distinctive and quirky nature of each storyline throughout the play. 

The traditional staging choice worked perfectly in tandem with the classically romantic setting, which was complemented by the evening’s beautiful weather. With audience members sitting in rows, dotted on the stairs, as well as the occasional curious passer-by, the atmosphere created was truly wholesome. I noted the ‘white moon’ (a paper print out) stuck to a window of the building, which allowed for a subtle and apt signifier of setting. The use of the building behind the stage as backstage area was also an effective measure, allowing for dramatic entrances and exits, especially during the ‘masquerade ball’. 

At the outset, we are led to expect a mere focus on the odyssey of our Quixotesque protagonist towards his end goal of romance, however as the play progresses we are greeted with something altogether more hilarious and eccentric in the form of unexpected affairs, bad husbands and duels. The Mayor’s husband was a particular favourite character of mine, as his initial monologue was an entertaining and convincing display of cruelty, which eventually melted away following his infatuation with a local artiste. Towards the end we saw a ‘dance’ routine between the two lovers: a creative use of physical theatre. Palpable sexual tension was felt through the well-choreographed spectacle as the duo gyrated, gracefully, on stage. Afterwards, we finally met the mayor (an inflatable sex doll). I must commend the utter absurdity and comedic timing from said blow-up toy, it was truly a highlight scene of the play as ‘it’ withstood a one-sided bickering from its husband. 

The costuming was subtle, yet immersive in effect. The billowing shirts, frilly sleeves and eclectic colours were well chosen and added to the whimsy of the production. I especially enjoyed the patchwork jacket donned by the lovesick protagonist (I will be seeking out one for my own wardrobe). 

As my first-time garden play experience, the Peter’s play displayed an amusing array of talent that I appreciated immensely at the end of such a hectic day. Being part of my own college’s garden play acting troop, it was enlightening to see how others tackle the feat of pulling together a production on the cusp of exam season, with minimal budget and a handful of natural chaos. Well done to the cast and crew for their exhibition of lighthearted originality!

The Two Gentlemen of Verona review: ‘Theatrical rom-com’

By
Anuj Mishra
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Image Credit: Geraint Lewis

The Two Gentlemen of Verona is almost always referred to as one of Shakespeare’s ‘early’ plays: an apologetic slant which does the play no justice. Gregory Doran’s production – furnished with the best talent OUDS has to offer – camps up the play into a masterful tableau of theatrical rom-com.

The play follows the two friends, Valentine (Will Shackleton) and Proteus (Rob Wolfreys), leaving Verona to live it up in Milan. Both set their eyes on Silvia (Rosie Mahendra), problematically for Proteus, who betrays his bestie and his ‘back-home’ girlfriend, Julia (Lilia Kanu) to do so.

Setting the scene somewhere in the not-too-distant past, with a live jazz-band playing Smooth Radio-esque scores and sunset lighting, the production boasted resonances of year-abroad antics and all the romance of an Italian summer. Think The Talented Mr Ripley, without (as much of) “the gay stuff”. The age-old issue of making Shakespeare relevant to a modern audience was remedied well by crafting a production which felt so relatable, yet still timeless in its golden age charm.

Doran’s production manifestly plays upon the play’s juvenile protagonists and its status as a work of Shakespeare’s juvenilia. Wolfreys as Proteus, a student (yes, in Shakespeare’s original too), stumbles over his lines and mixes up his metaphors as he blusters about in trying to express his love. The delivery worked excellently as a reconciliation of Shakespeare’s early, less-polished prosody with the unrefined, even selfish youthfulness of the character. Shackleton as Valentine balanced Wolfreys well, giving an equally charming performance as a young man of society uncomfortably thrust into the role of heroic lover.

Mahendra as Silvia acted well as a bastion of true love, shooing away unwanted admirers in hopeful favour of her ‘meant-to-be’. Kanu as Julia displayed excellent versatility across the play, swinging from the familiar figure of the slightly embarrassed lover to the defiant, yet heartbroken woman scorned.

Perhaps the defining feature of Two Gentleman is the character of Crab, a role taken up in this production by the spaniel Rocky. Crab, and his owner Launce (Jo Rich) were a dynamic duo that offered comedy, as well as useful points of reflection upon the main plot. I have never encountered a dog with such excellent comedic timing – whether his sporadic running offstage was ad libbed or intentional I cannot tell.

Standout performances were delivered by the exceptionally versatile Jake Robertson (as the Duke of Milan) – whose rendition of Mambo Italiano was one of the many perfectly choreographed set pieces which defined the production for me – and by Leah Aspden (as Lucetta), whose delivery was, as always, wonderfully hilarious.

The placement of the interval divided the play into two generically distinct halves which were balanced out by a wonderfully panto interval-act involving a Hinge profile analysis. In reconciling the all-too-happy ending of Shakespeare’s original with our modern-day sensibilities around pretty awful men (Proteus), the second half grew desperately serious and disjunct from the first. The effect was disruptive, yet poignant, and allowed Mahendra and Kanu to dominate the second half with powerful, yet sympathetic performances in a way that Shakespeare’s writing often denies its female characters.

Doran’s stint as the University’s visiting professor of contemporary theatre has shone a light of ‘real’ drama into the world of OUDS. Imbued with talented performances, and a really, really cute dog, Shakespeare’s most unloved comedy has been redeemed.

Mitski’s The Land is Inhospitable tour review: The artist by herself

By
Faye Chang
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Image Credit: David Lee / CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

The original title I had for this article was ‘Retired from Sad, New Business in Camp’. This was weeks before the actual concert itself, where my view was entirely informed by the series of videos posted on the instagram account, @mitskiontour. From the upbeat rendering of I Don’t Smoke, to the dead-bug poise Mitski holds in the second verse of I Bet On Losing Dogs, these excerpts seemed to promise a campy, joyous, pick-apart-and-put-back-together of the bastion songs of my teenage years. 

Performed in the historic Eventim Apollo, the third day of The Land is Inhospitable and So Are We’s UK tour did not fulfill my expectations as a hedonistic, debaucherous upturning of everything that had come before. This is not to say that the concert was conventional or banal, by any means – it was undoubtedly one of my favourite concerts I’ve been to recently. It’s just that I had expected the concert to be far more wild and irreverent, a complete disavowal of the resentment, sadness and anger of past albums in a total stylistic turnaround. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised by the deliberate reimagination of Mitski’s past works, and the artful negotiation of the troubles of her career that came with it. 

There were indeed joyful subversions of the genre, such as the soaring live fiddle that played over the acoustics of Pink in the Night and the slightly jazzy twist to Valentine, Texas replete with tasteful dings of the triangle. Still, these were counterbalanced with the classics preserved in their original form: I Bet on Losing Dogs, First Love/Late Spring, Last Words of a Shooting Star, and Washing Machine Heart, among other well-known pieces, remained true to their album versions. 

Especially given the rampant TikTok proliferation and occasional misinterpretation (and yes, I am an avid supporter of gatekeeping Mitski songs when lyrics are taken and divorced from the broader context of the song) of her works, I found that Mitski’s mix of preservation and reinvention appropriately honoured her fanbase, especially newcomers without an in-depth attachment to the full extent of her discography, while still granting ample room for artistic experimentation. 

Such a balance is particularly commendable given Mitski’s own relationship with music and performance. In a 2021 interview with Rolling Stone’s Angie Martoccio, Mitski admitted that, at the point of her last performance for the Be the Cowboy tour in 2018, she was thinking of it as the last show she would ever perform, before quitting and finding another life. She spoke of the objectification fame brought: “The music industry is this supersaturated version of consumerism. You are the product being consumed, bought, and sold.”

In the contemporary world of concerts, it seems that most artists exist at the extremes in terms of how they respond to this commodification: either they provide a range of personable divulgences about their lives and histories, engineering a familiarity with their audience to feed into the parasociality of relationships, or they maintain a stoic indifference towards adoring fans (thinking specifically of one British band which makes it notoriously difficult for any concert-goers to sing along with them). 

I’m not going so far as to say Mitski has resolved this tension entirely. Without a doubt, it remains difficult for those of us who resonate with her crafted lyricism and plaintive melodies to not feel, or at least yearn for, some sort of deeper connection with her as a person. 

Mitski doesn’t abuse this dynamic. She preserves a professional distance. During the concert, there were three segments in which  she spoke directly to the audience, and in none was she distinctly confessional. In the second break, introducing her band members, Mitski spoke more of the artists around her than of herself, sharing the spotlight in an important way. 

Still, her appreciation for her listeners is undeniable. “All of us,” she says, after introducing the band members, “with all of our lives, are very happy to be here, doing this for you.” At the very end of her concert, she gives a tender farewell to the audience: “I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but I love you – I love you very much.”

This struggle between self-preservation and exposure, between pressure, connection, and integrity is exemplified in the physical arrangement of the performances itself. After the opener, the audience is tantalised by a red curtain draped around an elevated circular platform, which forms a smaller stage on the large set of the hall. Although Mitski enters from stage left, she remains on this central podium thereafter. 

Over the course of the concert, various things arrive and are taken from the platform: chairs are carted off, strobe lights rotate merrily around the borders, mirror shards distend and recede into the ceiling, with the artist farewelling each prop and ornament in its own way. Despite the permeability of this threshold, the artist herself never leaves – she remains there, in a black A-line skirt, marionette-like choreography complementing her songs. 

At times, it feels that the physical performance space makes literal the artist’s entrapment within her role: constrained by the expectations of her audience in performance, as one might feel in love (particularly if one relates to her repertoire), Mitski rebuffs and attempts to escape from these barriers. In Geyser, the artist runs to and is violently pushed back from the borders of the platform by some invisible force. The lyrics paired with this dance transfer across both the domains of romantic and artistic relationships: “I will be the one you need / The way I can’t be without you / I will be the one you need / I just can’t be without you” is a promise and a plea to a lover, but also to fans. 

However, these boundaries in the concert are very much self-imposed. They maintain a purposeful distancing between the performer and the watchers, and demonstrate a close control over the artistic experience of the audience. Everything in the concert is well-chosen and deeply intentional, with each step and pulse finely tuned and timed to the beating of background drums, or the arrival of each new song. 

Only at the very end does Mitski leap off the platform, breaking free from these restraints to offer something of herself: to give her final bows and bid us all goodbye. 

This tour shows the audience a performer dedicated to her art, paying them their due while preserving a sense of independence and separation. It reclaims interpretation of many of her most noted works – where they might have been made trite by overuse, she reinjects resentment, grief and vitality. Still, it demonstrates a deep affinity for the lives and connections of concert-goers to her songs. While I did tear up on multiple occasions, exiting the Eventim did not leave me feeling as empty as concerts tend to do: not pushed to violent extremes of emotions, I felt deeply grounded in my own body and experiences throughout her performance. 


It’s a challenging effect to have in the often consumerist, sensationalised world of music that we live in nowadays. In the end, the brilliance of The Land is Inhospitable tour is that it is an endeavour borne out of sincere love and respect for the audience, the art, and the performer, Mitski herself.

Inside the Oxford wine world: The Bacchus termly dinner

By
Oliver Sandall
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Image Credit: Oliver Sandall

Dressing up in black tie on a Tuesday isn’t too alien to an Oxford student. But, even to the Editor of Oxford’s best newspaper, a Bacchus dinner is rather daunting. So is the £80 price tag. At the same time, had I bought the wines by the glass in a wine bar, I’d easily be looking at triple digits. So, how was my experience at the Trinity Term Bacchus Dinner at the Cherwell Boathouse?

The wine list, accompanied by five courses, was as follows: Cedro do Noval (2023), Lions de Suduiraut (2023), Les Griffons de Pichon Baron (2020), Château Pichon Baron (2011), Château Suduiraut Sauternes (2015), Disznókö Tokaji Aszú 5 Puttonyos (2013), and Colheita Tawny Port [Quinta do Noval] (2007).

Although it was a wine-tasting dinner, I had still expected the food to be better than it was. The highlight of the show was the starter, an interesting combination of octopus carpaccio with oranges and chili. The courses thereafter were small and largely unimaginative. Whilst nothing was too offensive, the Cotswold chicken was uninspiring, and the two dessert courses left much to be desired (and to be eaten – the portions were extremely small). The braised lamb neck was, however, well cooked, and the 2011 Château Pichon Baron was the perfect pairing.

The Cherwell Boathouse is a great location, tucked away in the suburbs of North Oxford, providing a peephole to the beautiful Oxfordshire countryside. The dinner took place in the marquee overlooking the eponymous River Cherwell. Whilst heavy rain soaked some, others – having arrived on time – were greeted by a lovely sommelier with the first wine, the apéritif. A harpist reaffirmed the ancient Greek tropes of Bacchus (the society being named after the Roman god of agriculture, wine, and fertility), and the marquee itself was well-ventilated and beautifully lit. 

The wine, provided by the vineyards of AXA Millésimes, was brilliant. CEO Christian Seely presented his wines with a great deal of wit and, importantly, detail. My personal favourites were the 2011 Château Pichon Baron and the 2013 Tokaji. The former is the pinnacle of a sophisticated red; the vineyard’s website describes it as “show[ing] great elegance, intensity and exceptional length on the palate.” The Tokaji, on the other hand, was great fun. A sweeter, more interesting wine, Tokaji is a Hungarian dessert wine; it has strong notes of tropical fruits yet still sits with good weight on the palate. I think I’ll be buying a bottle of this for my parents. If you’re not much into wine yourself, you’ll have likely never tried a Tokaji – it was also my first time. The Oxford Wine Café carries one Tokaji – a slightly drier one, but nonetheless also worth trying.

The Oxford University Wine Society (i.e., Bacchus) is soon to head into its 25th year of existence. There is certainly much more work to be done in making it more accessible to a wider audience – but I was positively impressed by both the committee members and regular Bacchus-goers. Having expected undiplomatic, tweed-sporting public schoolers, I was surprised by the welcoming and self-aware cohort which found itself drinking expensive vintage port on a wet Tuesday evening in May.

To those that teeter on the edge of not wanting to seem too pretentious, yet love a good glass of red, I say: go for it. To Bacchus, I say: work on making yourself more beginner-friendly. You have a great, light-hearted air about yourselves, which isn’t self-evident or necessarily axiomatic for an Oxford society in this field. Whilst the food wasn’t particularly memorable, the wine was excellent, and I certainly had a great evening.

‘There’s a seat at the table for everyone’: In Conversation with Daisy Maskell

By
Seraphina Evans
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Image Credit: Kiran Gidda.

CW: Spiking. 

Daisy Maskell is, in short, a multimedia superwoman. Her documentaries have aired on BBC and Channel 4, she is the youngest breakfast show host in radio history (just 23 when she got the gig), and she recently featured on the Forbes 30 under 30 list. As if she wasn’t busy enough, Daisy produces her own documentaries too.

Daisy’s entrance into the industry came about through what can only be described as hard graft. She made her own showreel using B&Q wallpaper samples as backgrounds and holding microphones that connected to nothing. Then, she handed a USB stick round to receptionists at media companies. Through this, Daisy got a foot in the door at 4Music leading to a twice a week live presenting slot and “things sort of snowballed from there.” However, Daisy has noticed big changes in the industry since then, noting “I think I was probably the last person through the door at 4Music” and “those sorts of opportunities don’t really exist anymore, at least from a broadcast TV perspective, which is such a shame.” 

On the topic of interview tips and tricks, we get onto Daisy’s interview with Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson, which she cites as the favourite of her career so far. “As I was walking into the hotel to do the interview, my heel broke. […] I hobbled through the Corinthia Hotel lobby up to the room and I thought well, he’s not going to know because I’m going to be sat. Then when he came into the room, I thought well I have to stand up to greet him! He’s a tall guy anyway, so I was already six inches smaller and one of my heels was broken. So that was a really good icebreaker.” This could have felt like a disaster, but Daisy took it in her stride and turned it into an opportunity for connection. In fact, Daisy’s top interview tip is to have a personal anecdote or icebreaker to begin the interview on a note of personal connection. In doing this, you are recognising that the interviewee is just another human. I think I managed to take that advice, in a meta sort of way, using her Dwayne Johnson icebreaker as our icebreaker. 

Daisy praises press junkets like the one with Dwayne Johnson as “a very, very unique experience. The first interview I ever did was a junket, it was with Queer Eye, I remember. It was a really good training ground for me to learn how to do interviews because it’s super, super stressful. It’s more time sensitive as well, because you’re just being pushed in and out, and you only have a small amount of time to capture what you need. Whereas, when I do interviews on the radio we are welcoming someone into our studio, into our space and it’s just a little bit less of a stressful situation.” 

As well as both TV and radio presenting, Daisy works behind the scenes as producer on her documentaries, including the BBC’s Daisy Maskell: Insomnia & Me, and multiple episodes for Channel 4’s Untold series. The latter is aptly named, as Daisy categorises the topics that appeal to her as “anything where I feel as though it has a perspective we haven’t explored or seen yet, so anything with an untold, unheard or unseen angle or perspective is always super interesting.” In reference to her hands on investigative style that led to her getting spiked on camera (under medical supervision) and advertising her virginity for sale online, Daisy said  “I love a stunt as well. If there’s any way that we can wrap a stunt into a film or into the style of investigation, I really enjoy that […] with spiking, for example, we obviously went really radical with it and we did a live spike on camera. I find if there’s a subject area where we can really hammer home a new perspective or dangers, then that really draws me to explore a topic.” 

I ask Daisy about what it means, practically and in an everyday sense, to be a producer. It turns out the role is as diverse as the somewhat nebulous title suggests. It involves “overseeing visually what you want the project to look like […] dealing with the day-to-day technical ways of actually making that shoot happen” including the big questions like “how am I going to execute that? How are you going to film this? What is the style that you’re going for? And what equipment do you actually need to be able to execute that vision? For factual [i.e documentaries], it’s finding contributors. And there’s also a huge duty of care to consider with producing, too”. Additionally, there’s the administrative side of “what filming permit do we need to be able to shoot the things that we need to capture? Sometimes it’s sorting out accommodation and sorting out flights. So there’s so much that goes into it and I think it really depends on the project.”

Despite the demanding nature of the job, Daisy speaks with unwavering enthusiasm and clearly finds the work massively rewarding: “I think that’s always an amazing process. When I think about the films that we’ve made from the ideas that I’ve come up with in my bed at 3am, to then see them air on TV and get the response from viewers. It is a really special experience. You really do see the impact of your work, which I think is what it’s all about really.” She also emphasises the importance of teamwork in making these ideas happen. “I love collaboration. When you have a team of people that you love and you respect, it’s so nice to be able to collaborate. It’s really important to be able to acknowledge that, whilst you have this idea, and you may have this vision going into it… there’s a seat at the table for everyone, especially in factual, everyone has a new and different perspective on any topic that you’re investigating. Which I think makes a better film, as well.”

Of course, being a young woman in male dominated spaces comes with challenges. Issues such as impostor syndrome, self criticism and having your opinion pushed aside by others all factor in. Particularly for people struggling with this earlier in their careers, Daisy says, “it’s really important to never have your worth stripped. […] because being in those situations, it can really, really beat you down. And it can make you second guess yourself.” 

“Oftentimes, [this behaviour is] through insecurity, or the other person is projecting those feelings onto you. It’s nothing to do with you and it’s everything to do with someone else. It’s not that you aren’t worthy. It’s not that you don’t deserve a place at the table. And I think you have to have that mindset to push that feeling of inferiority and that feeling of  imposter syndrome aside, I would say it’s really about believing in yourself.” She also emphasises the importance of having a strong support system to check in with and help you find the strength to persevere. 

Finally, she underlines the importance of flagging up these situations, despite fear of the backlash that is especially prevalent in the media industry. “If you ever go through anything, please, please, please find those people to speak up to. It’s not okay to be in any workplace and feel as though you are being silenced or you aren’t being heard or you’re being undervalued. It’s important that we all work together to be able to create spaces that feel welcoming and are diverse as well. No matter your age, no matter your race, no matter your gender. That is super important.” Ending on a positive note, Daisy remarks “I really do hope in the next ten to fifteen years, we do start to see a massive shift in the way that people are treated in the workplace because we spend so much time at work. So we deserve to be happy and we deserve to be supported by our employers, too. We give so much and we deserve that respect back.”

In terms of career progression, Daisy advises that “it’s always worth checking in with yourself and realising that if there’s an area or role in that industry that you enjoy, or you want to learn more about, you have the opportunity to do so. I don’t think you have to have it all locked in and figured out and be in that position for the rest of your life. I think whatever makes you happy, and makes you feel like you’re growing and brings you fulfilment, it’s always worth exploring.” Daisy certainly doesn’t shy away from new areas and roles, leading to her diverse portfolio of achievements. 

Her advice for those looking to break into the industry given the shifting landscape? “Talk about what you love, showcase your talent on the platforms that you have available to you, because there are people watching and that really feels like a space where people are hiring from now … it’s really exciting to see new people breaking through as well. I love to be able to track the journey of other young people that are rising right now. It’s super, super, super exciting.” 

With Daisy so firmly wired into the pop culture zeitgeist, I would be remiss not to ask for her recommendations. So in the last moments of our interview I ask her recent favourites. Daisy is rewatching Gilmore Girls, is a lifelong diehard Elton John fan, and recommends the content of rising-star comedian Gabby Bryan, particularly “L’Podcast” with co-host Zack Signore- which is indeed hilarious. I can confirm that, additional to her ever-expanding repertoire of achievements, she also has great taste.

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