Tuesday 7th October 2025
Blog Page 865

Denis Healey’s archives to be stored in the Bodleian

Fred Dimbleby
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Denis Healey’s archives to be stored in the Bodleian

The personal archives of former minister Denis Healey have been acquired by the Bodleian Libraries.

Lord Healey, who died in 2015, was a senior Labour politician who was twice defeated in bids for the party leadership. He was an MP from 1952 to 1992 and served as both Defence Secretary and Chancellor of the Exchequer during the 1960s and 1970s.

The documents were provided through the Acceptance in Lieu Scheme, which enables taxpayers to pay inheritance tax by ‘transferring important works of art and other important heritage objects into public ownership’.

The Labour minister’s “extensive” archives were accepted by Arts Council England, which runs the scheme, in lieu of £75,670 of inheritance tax, and date from the 1930s until 2015.

He was a popular political figure who was famed for his use of, sometimes inflammatory, political rhetoric and his bushy eyebrows. In 1978, he referred to Geoffrey Howe’s criticism of him as being akin to being “savaged by a dead sheep”.

However, some of his language caused controversy at times. One comment, describing fellow MP Ian Mikardo as “out of his tiny Chinese mind” caused an upset in Anglo-Chinese relations.

The archives themselves contain a number of personal documents – including photos, diaries and press cuttings – which portray the role that Healey played in 20th century politics.

They also include personal correspondence with major political figures, such as Clement Attlee, and personal notes taken during meetings of the Wilson cabinet, as well as an account of a visit to Nazi Germany in 1938.

Chris Fletcher, the Keeper of Special Collections at the Bodleian Libraries, said: “We are delighted that the Bodleian Libraries has been allocated Denis Healey’s personal archive and it’s particularly appropriate that it will be kept in Oxford where he began his political career.

“We are very grateful to Healey’s family and to the AIL scheme for this excellent outcome”.

The Chairman of the Acceptance in Lieu Panel, Edward Harley, said: “I am very pleased that the Acceptance in Lieu Scheme has helped it to find a home where its potential for scholarship will be fulfilled.

“I am confident that this archive will prove of great interest to scholars of 20th Century politics.”

Gangster rap with glimmers of uniqueness

Joe Baverstock-Poppy
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Gangster rap with glimmers of uniqueness

Vince Staples’ Big Fish Theory might be the most unique mainstream rap record to be released so far this year. Staples’ latest project takes modern rap music and twists all its aspects, from production to subject matter, into a style both distinctive and familiar.

For songwriting, Staples makes a clear departure from the nostalgic gangster storytelling that dominated his debut album: Summertime ’06. Instead, Big Fish Theory focuses on more abstract discussions, paralleling Kendrick Lamar’s departure from concept albums on DAMN.

For subject matter, Staples offers a refreshing perspective on the perils of fame, seeming far more genuine and less of humble brag than fame focused My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. Staples reveals his conflicting feelings surrounding the detachment wealth and fame creates between rappers and the gangster lifestyle Staples grew up in.

In ‘Big Fish’ Staples celebrates escaping the poverty and crime that takes the lives of so many from his hometown, expressing his remorse for and desire to help those still stuck there. Elsewhere, Staples expresses anxiety over the new expectations placed upon him. Staples argues that somethings never change, likening the destructive competition between rappers to gang wars and police brutality in ‘Crabs in a Bucket’. ‘Homage’ describes Staples’ frustration at being stuck in the middle: between his roots who view him as too “cultured” and the upper echelons of show business who view him as too “ghetto”, consequently snubbing him for awards: “Where the fuck is my Grammy?”.

Whilst Staples’ musings and insecurities are engaging, they are often over shadowed by his more boastful side that often dominates his hooks. Whilst it’s all good for Staples to admit in ‘Party People’ that this is “false bravado, masked by wealth”, one can’t help but still feel this bravado lets the core message down somewhat.

Another refreshingly unique aspect to Big Fish Theory is the production style throughout the album. With heavy references to UK Garage, Tech House, and Jungle in tracks such as ‘Crabs in a Bucket’ and ‘Love Can Be…’. This choice of sonics is a tribute to UK talent that seems far more heartfelt than those of other American rappers. Whether it be Drake adopting questionable Patwa and naming songs after random British cities or Kanye using respected grime artists as stage props, previous US-UK rap crossovers have come across as thinly veiled opportunism. The standout instrumental, on ‘Yeah Right’, comes from PC Music stalwart SOPHIE, who offers a track with subtlety that has been found lacking in most of his colleagues’ works of late. The whole album maintains this glitzy, fizzy sound, most overtly in ‘745’ and ‘Big Fish’

Big Fish Theory is by no means a perfect album – some tracks like ‘745’ fail to maintain the momentum and lyricism of the rest of album and Staples can often slip into tired rap tropes. However, the album is a refreshing spin on modern rap music that shows there is plenty of talent and potential within Vince Staples. Staples is definitely someone worth keeping an eye on.

Stormzy receives ‘person of the year’ award from Oxford ACS

Jack Hunter
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Stormzy receives ‘person of the year’ award from Oxford ACS

Today Stormzy consolidated his iconic status after being named ‘person of the year’ by the Oxford African and Caribbean Society (ACS).

The award-winning grime artist – real name Michael Omari – was in Oxford to receive the award.

“Today I received the “Person Of The Year” Award from the Oxford University ACS,” Stormzy wrote on Instagram.

“I was in a room full of young black Kings & Queens who inspire me more than they could even imagine. Our future Leaders, CEO’s, Moguls etc. You lot gas me and motivate me. Let’s get it”.

https://twitter.com/Stormzy1/status/884767295863738369

Stormzy, who won best grime act at both the 2014 and 2015 MOBO awards, recently donated £9,000 to an Oxford student, Fiona Asiedu’s crowdfunding campaign to attend Harvard University. Asiedu gave the award to Stormzy at a conference earlier today.

https://twitter.com/MansaCam/status/884789389729071104

Oxford ACS is a student-run society, which works to “celebrate and represent” students of African and Caribbean heritage at Oxford University.

In May, a photo campaign launched by the group – showing black students standing outside the Bodleian library – went viral, promising to “debunk myths on race”.

Stormzy received his award during the group’s annual access conference, a day-long event aiming to “demystify the Oxford application process” for prospective black applicants. Stormzy addressed over 150 state school students of African and Caribbean heritage alongside Oxford students.

Oxford ACS hailed Stormzy’s “amazing contributions” to the society.

Speaking to Cherwell, the President of Oxford ACS, Renée Kapuku, said: “The person of the year award is annual. Stormzy was awarded this year for his outstanding contribution to the society and wider community. He has served as a role model to many young people, and demonstrated a profound commitment to education.

“As a society dedicated to equipping young people of African and Caribbean heritage with the tools need to make the best choices for their future, Stormzy epitomizes everything we wish to impart on the students we engage with.

“He demonstrates a passion which aligns with ours – using our platform and using the space we occupy to positively impact future generations. The Annual Access Conference, one of the largest student-led conferences in the U.K. for students of African and Caribbean heritage, is one of our greatest opportunities to do this.”

Awkward singing and timely rain from Radiohead in Manchester

Thomas Athey
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Awkward singing and timely rain from Radiohead in Manchester

In opening their set with the melancholy classic ‘Let down’, Radiohead may have been referring to the auspicious circumstances surrounding their show in Manchester. Originally planning to perform two shows at the Manchester arena, the venue had not reopened in time after the horrific terrorist attack there earlier this year. Instead, they opted to play a single show at the Lancashire county cricket club, which despite its size was hardly an equally suitable venue. Unfortunately, this plagued the set with audio issues through parts for the show. In particular, the heavy synth on ‘Idioteque’ was barely audible, undercutting much of the tracks momentum.

No surprises? Not quite. The set list was for the most part predictable, with the obvious choices from most of their back catalogue being selected in line with a very similar set played to Glastonbury. Naturally Ok computer featured heavily, given it has recently had its 20th anniversary, and also it being one of the more crowd pleasing albums. In contrast, the latest release A moon shaped pool featured surprisingly sparsely, perhaps due to the heavy reliance of strings on that record which would be difficult to replicate. The unexpected song came near the end of the set, with a surprise performance of ‘The bends’. Released before I was even born, this classic was a real treat for life long fans, even if Radiohead did seem a bit unsure if they could still pull off the agro–rock required for the track. Thom Yorke even wryly remarked before starting “please sing along, because I’ll probably forget the first verse”.

The crowd did need a little bit encouraging. Many remained mute through most of the performance, although to be fair Radiohead are hardly the easiest band to sing along to. Thom Yorke’s vocal range is beyond impressive, with the unfortunate flip-side being a decline in audience participation. To compensate the crowd hummed along to bass lines and occasionally guitar solos, a spectacle that was unintentionally hilarious when applied to ‘Paranoid android’. Actual singing was mostly reserved for “oh Jeremy Corbyn”, which again received spontaneous outbursts and at this point should probably be included on the set list.

To be clear however, Radiohead themselves were on fine form, and it is unlikely anyone walked away from the show feeling short changed after a performance lasting over two hours. With all ages present, all generations of fans received what they wanted and lasting moments were created a plenty. My personal highlight being a light rain shower beginning during the refrain ‘rain on me from a great height’. Obviously this couldn’t be planned, (although they did choose to play in Manchester), but it is testament to their ability that Radiohead can create so many great moments for so many.

Life Divided: Lads’ Holidays

Katie Sayer and Molly Greenwood
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Life Divided: Lads’ Holidays

For: Katie Sayer

As the plane landed on the self-proclaimed ‘party island’, with the dulcet tones of ‘We’re Going To Ibiza’ playing overhead, I braced myself for a week of debauchery. I pictured threesomes, substance abuse, narcotic-induced comas. This week would be a defiant act of rebellion. Nobody would be eating their five portions of fruit and veg.

But this was no orgy of depravity. Imagine my surprise upon experiencing instead what was essentially an amplified version of an Oxford night out. The majority of hotels had a strict ban on overnight guests. Four of my friends suffered from seasickness at the boat party. There were no Love Island-esque paramours ready to whisk me off my feet for a heady night of passion, but, rather, middle-class 18-year-olds spending their birthday money on cheap spirits and paint parties. Where was the rampant immorality? The handsome drug dealers on every street corner? It turns out they belong to the exact same domain as the notorious goat from Piers Gav – the realm of fiction.

My lads’ holiday was great. The alcohol was cheap, the DJs were amazing, and it was everything it claimed to be when I booked a package deal to a party island. Lads’ and lasses’ holidays are horrifically misrepresented in the media. Vilifying them as superficial celebrations of drinking and promiscuity, this social conservatism is both outdated and hypocritical – in fact, the world of Ibiza is not so far from the socio-sexual sphere we inhabit at Oxford. For all the ‘debauchery’ I witnessed on my lads’ holiday, I have seen worse on crewdates. As for casual sex, if it’s the decision of two consenting adults, who really cares?

It seems to me that group holidays provide necessary catharsis. After a year of ridiculous academic pressure, there are few better ways to unwind than by remembering that we are normal young adults who enjoy going out. Lads’ holidays allow this to happen in a safe and contained environment, because you can be sure that the staff on party islands have had far more experience in dealing with drink and drug-related complications than your local suburban A&E. And before you complain that this is unfair on the staff, bear in mind that 11 per cent of Spain’s GDP comes from tourism, and that Ibiza has an unemployment rate of 4.2 per cent, far lower than the national average of 14 per cent. The overnight receptionist at our hotel told us cheerfully that his job was sufficiently well-paid to enable him to work the holiday season, then travel around Asia for the other six months.

The Romans had Bacchanalia; we have lads’ holidays. It’s easy for the naysayers to dismiss them as superficial, but these people just need to lighten up, grab some sunscreen, and hit the strip. I’ll be in Magaluf for my 19th this summer – you’re welcome to come too, so you can experience this rampant degeneracy for yourself.

 

Against: Molly Greenwood

A lads’ holiday? God no.

First of all, I think it’s important to establish publicly that I may well be the least laddish person that humankind has ever produced, but that’s fine and that’s just me. I know that, for many people, a boozy two weeks in Magaluf or Kavos is the holiday of a lifetime – a holiday (not) to remember, if you will. This is also fine, but just not in my case.

The lads’ holiday in itself is no issue at all, but there is a culture surrounding it that I see as representing something bigger and maybe a little more insidious. The title of a blog post that I found on www.ladsholiday.com (yes, it is the first time I have visited this website – I would also like to note the shameless and consistent lack of an apostrophe on ‘lads holiday’ throughout) perhaps demonstrates what I’m talking about. When you write an article entitled ‘Should I pre-book my holiday events, or just worry about it when I get there?’, you are – inadvertently – revealing the couldn’t-care-less attitude which is the problem here. Bacchanalian nights in Ibiza or Zante exist in the holiday itinerary because it’s fun to get drunk with your friends (fine), and even more fun to get so drunk you have no idea what you are doing, make a massive fool of yourself, and know it amounts to nothing because you are hundreds of miles away from parents, employers, and everyone else who should not see you behaving as a creature entirely unleashed (not fine).

That’s not to say we don’t all deserve to kick back and let our hair down – we do. We work very intensely during Oxford terms, so why shouldn’t we have a good time? But it’s important to realise the difference between having a good time, and entertaining a blatant disregard for your own actions under the protective shroud of utter intoxication. These are two entirely different things. The culture which is bound to the idea of the lads’ holiday, one of drinking, drinking, sleeping around, and drinking, is harmful to even a vague sense of social responsibility.

I just spent the last five minutes trying to decide if having this opinion means that I am a prude, or even that I am less enlightened than some of my peers. Yet I can’t help but think that your average Kavos bar at 2.00am is hardly a bastion of social or self-respect. Surely 80 per cent of Magaluf must wake up the next afternoon with a banging headache and a leering sensation of ignominy? But who cares, because back home three weeks from now that time your mate drank so much vodka he fell off the balcony and had to have his stomach pumped will be funny, right? A legend, surely?

I just feel that having no care for what you do on these holidays simply isn’t indicative of a healthy respect for society. Maybe I think this because the lads’ or ladettes’ holiday is part of a culture to which I have never really subscribed. Even so, I can’t help but be delighted that all the typical destinations are just so wonderfully far away.

Town versus Gown: queer culture in Oxford and Northern Ireland

Eimer McAuley
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Town versus Gown: queer culture in Oxford and Northern Ireland

On a day so bleak it somehow managed to make Belfast look even more industrial than usual, I had my first experience of queer culture.

Walking past the Kremlin, Northern Ireland’s leading and, not unsurprisingly, only Soviet-themed gay night club, I saw a drag queen sitting outside smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone. Looking back, my staring probably didn’t seem so out of place: in the most ‘backward’ place in the UK, I’m sure that a lot of people would have been staring that day. But I wasn’t staring for the same reason: instead, I was curious and fascinated. She was so unlike anyone I had ever seen that, in that moment, she represented exactly what it meant to be different.

Northern Ireland is not an easy place to be a member of the LGBTQ+ community, especially in the rural area where I grew up. My closest neighbours at home have a sign on their barn that reads ‘Christ died for the ungodly’ and my local MP publicly described gay sex as a ‘repulsive act’. Trust me: it’s a tough crowd.

Going to Oxford and experiencing not just acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community, but a tangible and vibrant queer culture, was like being dropped into another world completely. When I went to the first Haute Mess night in Plush, it was an almost overwhelming experience. I sat in a toilet cubicle and tried to wrap my head around the idea that this was a space where I could be open about my sexuality and actually celebrate it at the same time, rather than just constantly defending it.

There’s nothing more liberating than the realisation that you’ve found somewhere that you can be yourself, and that’s what Oxford has meant to me. At a summer school for Northern Irish students, one girl approached me after a Q&A session and nervously asked what Oxford was like if you were LGBTQ+. To be able to tell her how progressive and accepting I have found it seemed to give her real hope.

Being back in Northern Ireland now, I can finally see my country’s pulling out of the dark ages, one rainbow flag at a time. Thousands of people have marched down Belfast’s streets protesting for same-sex marriage. As the public demand for equality grows, it feels like change is becoming inevitable rather than impossible. So although Oxford is still a comparative paradise, Northern Ireland is beginning to change for the better, and it’s so exciting to see.

‘Baby Driver’ dazzles and thrills

Daniel Kodsi
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‘Baby Driver’ dazzles and thrills

Baby Driver makes no effort at verisimilitude. Its brilliant opening scene is set to ‘Bellbottoms’ by The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion; the skids of Baby’s car match the tempo of the music. Nor do the beats let up when the action’s over. The whole of director Edgar Wright’s film is set to music – even when there isn’t a song blasting in the background, the music’s pulse remains.

Here’s the premise of the film. Baby, played by Ansel Elgort, is a prodigiously talented driver. His parents died in a car crash when he was young, an accident that also left him with tinnitus. Through a second unfortunate turn of fate, he’s found himself in the employ of crime boss Kevin Spacey (aka ‘Doc’). Now he’s Doc’s star get-away driver, a gig he’s apparently had for a decade despite seeming no older than Elgort’s 23. All of this is explained to us by Spacey, who upon concluding Baby’s story exclaims, “I just drew a map in chalk while I was telling you all that. Wow! Isn’t that fucking impressive?”. Now by my lights that question’s a triple entendre. First, and perhaps least interestingly, it’s about Doc’s multitasking. Second, it concerns the subject of his story: Baby and his talent. And third, it’s symbolic of the movie we’re watching, with its sleek polish and irresistible cleverness. The whole film is lit up bright – it’s meant to impress and amuse, dazzle and thrill.

And thrill it does. There are, I suppose, at least two obvious ways to capture an audience. The classic way is to do it with depth, by writing three-dimensional characters who suffer X tragedy and respond in Y way, or whatever, and if the director does that really well then he’ll probably pick up an Academy Award for his efforts. If that’s what you think of as excellence in cinema, then you probably won’t like Baby Driver. But a director can also keep his audience glued through speed and wit, by throwing recognisable elements up on the screen then playing around with them in some new and invigorating way. If that’s the task, then the obligation isn’t to operate within the rules of formal logic and plausibility. It would be a mistake to venture too far away and produce something without a plot. But the priority, I think, should be to make sure that what you’re doing is fun. And Baby Driver is fun throughout, even at its tensest moments.

Not that those moments are at all rare. Most of the film’s second half is a nail-biter. Doc has called together Baby, Buddy (Jon Hamm), his girlfriend Darling (Eliza González), and the volatile Bats (Jamie Foxx) for a heist. This being the movie that it is, even before the heist goes wrong you know it’s going to. But it’s not concern for the outcome of the robbery that, at least for me, causes the tension. Instead the real point of worry is the fate of Baby’s relationship with Debora (Lily James), the beautiful young woman he meets at the diner where his mother used to work. Baby sees Debora come in, with purple headphones, singing ‘B-A-B-Y’ – it’s a song, you see – and he’s totally hers. And she’s his too. How could she not be? This nice bad boy, who promises to rescue her from this empty town and empty life.

Let me sketch out four scenes for you between Elgort and James. Together, I think, they capture the sensibility of the film. In one, we just see their feet tapping along in unison – his jeans and sneakers, her bare calves and ankle-high black boots. In another, we watch them wine and dine together, at a place with “the finest winin’ and dinin’ in town”, and you can see their lips move but there’s no dialogue. This is a young couple in love. Fill in your own words. In a third, when Baby proposes they finally make their escape, Debora bursts out, ‘We don’t have a car! Or music’. And in the last, Debora emerges from the shadows and plants herself, feet firm, next to her beloved as he begs with Spacey. The sociopathic crime boss caves. It’s not that he’s gone soft. It’s just that he recognises the story… and how ugly it would be for him to stand in the way.

It would be a mistake, as I see it, to think that a film has to do what literature does. Often the best films do appropriate the virtues of literature: they create complex and moving characters and express some moral truth about this thing or that. But there are a couple points to be made here. First, if that’s what film is supposed to be then it’s always going to be inferior as an art form to literature, which is simply more conducive to complexity and thought. But second, whereas literature fails when its characters are caricatures – take, for example, Jennifer Egan’s A Visit from the Goon Squad, which like ‘Baby Driver’ tries to set its plot to music – film doesn’t. Sometimes it succeeds through stylish spectacle. And it’s alright to sit back and enjoy the ride.

‘Spider-Man: Homecoming’ defies expectations as a surprising pleasure

Jonnie Barrow
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‘Spider-Man: Homecoming’ defies expectations as a surprising pleasure

It seems that the omens for Spider-Man: Homecoming couldn’t be much worse. This is the third on-screen incarnation of Peter Parker (and his sixth movie) in 15 years, as the creative team at Sony repeatedly struggled over the last ten of those years to create a Spider-Man movie that was widely liked. Now he’s back in the Marvel fold, fresh from his scene-stealing introduction into the Marvel Cinematic Universe in Captain America: Civil War last year, with a brand-new solo movie that has the difficult task of introducing an entirely new version of a character most people aren’t just familiar with, but are now tired of seeing rebooted. Couple that to the fact that this new movie is penned by six screenwriters, and has the most spoiler-filled, unconfident trailers in recent memory, the signs all point to this film being an absolute turkey.

Fear not, Spider-Man fans – a turkey this is not. Spider-Man: Homecoming is a genuine delight, consistently buoyed by smart writing, a brilliant (and pleasingly diverse) cast, interesting action scenes, a brilliant score (thank you, Michael Giacchino) and a knowing awareness of what an audience for a Spider-Man film has already seen, and what they want to see.

For a start, the film is pretty clear about what needs to be shown and, more importantly, what doesn’t. The filmmakers know that we’re already familiar with Spidey’s origin story, so we don’t have to sit through it again. Instead, the focus is clearly on integrating Spidey into the MCU; you need to have seen both Avengers movies and Captain America: Civil War to understand a lot of what’s going on, especially given that the film picks up two months on from Civil War. But the pay-off of this franchise baggage is a Spider-Man who is both brand-new and yet instantly familiar.

The influences on this film are also abundantly clear: this is a John Hughes-esque high-school teen comedy, featuring a cast of teenagers whose struggles and joys feel believable even amongst the mechanics of a tentpole superhero movie. There’s a great explicit reference to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, but shades of Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club and Risky Business can easily be seen throughout.

This Spider-Man is the first one to actually seem like a teenager, thanks almost entirely to Tom Holland’s infectious enthusiasm in the part. Holland’s springer-spaniel attitude is one of the film’s major differences to previous incarnations of the character – his Peter Parker is positively scrappy, constantly bouncing back and desperate to prove that he’s got what it takes to be an Avenger. Robert Downey Jr.’s attempts to take the wind out of his sails make for a brilliant relationship between the two, which I can’t wait to see explored further in Avengers: Infinity War next year.

Because being Spider-Man is portrayed as something Peter actually wants to do, the clash of high school life with being a superhero, which is characteristic of Spider-Man movies, feels more engaging then it has done previously. Many of the action sequences are also lightened by Parker’s youth and inexperience, mining comedy from moments where he’s unsure how to proceed, or doesn’t quite come off as cool as he intends to. The new high-tech suit, courtesy of Tony Stark, is also responsible for many of the films funnier and cooler action beats.

While the one-liners in the film are pretty great, the real strength of the script comes from its villain. Michael Keaton is, as always, absolutely fantastic, but the writers go a long way to correcting Marvel’s ‘villain problem’ by opening the film with the villain’s perspective. He’s as sympathetic as he is tangibly menacing – and though the film follows the now-familiar trope of the villain and Spidey being somehow related to each other, the connection this time around is pleasingly nebulous.

I grew up on Sam Raimi’s original Spider-Man films, so they will always have a special place in my heart, but ‘Homecoming’ is probably my new favourite Spider-Man film. The trailers are absolutely the worst thing about the movie – avoid seeing them if you can, or put them out of your mind, so you can best enjoy the most outright fun movie of the summer.

Crichard’s haul sees Oxford slump to four-day defeat

Matthew Roller
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Crichard’s haul sees Oxford slump to four-day defeat

Eleven wickets for Cambridge seamer Ruari Crichard saw Oxford fall to a crushing 216-run defeat in the four-day Varisty match at Fenner’s.

Jonny Marsden’s four first-innings wickets and a combative 95 from Alex Rackow meant that there was little between the two sides at tea on day two. But some wayward bowling and an onslaught from Tim Moses – impressive in all three formats with both bat and ball – meant the Dark Blues were set a mammoth target on the final day.

However, despite a couple of useful partnerships, Oxford rarely looked like saving the game, and defeat was sealed when Jack Harrison’s 108-ball rearguard was ended by Crichard.

After winning the toss, Cambridge skipper Patrick Tice would have been disappointed with his side’s first innings.

The top order struggled for any real fluency, with fast-bowling pair Marsden and Tom Brock proving particularly hard to get away.

Despite several batsmen making starts, only Tice made fifty, and the highest partnership was just 45.

Marsden in particular excelled with the ball. He bowled ten maidens, and ended with exceptional figures of 4-47 in his 21.1 overs, creating regular chances as well as proving difficult to score off.

After seeing the pair put on stands of 133 and 171 in last year’s Varsity Match, Cambridge would have dreaded the arrival of openers Dan Escott and Matty Hughes at the crease, knowing that both had the ability and the temperament to punish any wayward bowling.

But Crichard, in his final appearance for the Light Blues, came out fired up, and produced one of the most remarkable spells that Varsity cricket has seen in recent years.

In his first five overs, the St. John’s student turned the game entirely into Cambridge’s favour. He ripped out Oxford’s top order, dismissing four of the Dark Blues’ top five, with all four nicking off to wicket-keeper Tice, conceding just nine runs in the process.

When Jamie Gnodde was bowled by Moses to leave the visitors 38-5 on the first evening, it looked like Oxford were set for a disastrous total.

However, Rackow had other ideas. The St. Hilda’s student had endured a difficult first season with the bat for the Blues with a string of underwhelming scores, but chose the biggest of stages to prove his worth.

His 179-ball 95 was a lone hand in a poor batting effort from Oxford, as he rotated the strike with Jack Harrison (38) and then Toby Pettman (25) to drag them first to respectability, and then to a deficit of just thirteen runs.

Regardless, a strong start was needed with the ball.

But Oxford struggled against the dogged top-order quartet of Tom Colverd, Darshan Chohan, Nipuna Senaratne and Alistair Dewhurst, and a solid lead began to grow on the second evening.

By lunch on day three, a strong total had already been achieved, and with the visitors’ attack flagging, first Dewhurst, who was eventually dismissed for 91, then Tice and Moses began to tuck in.

Things began to fall apart. A total of 51 extras conceded summed up Oxford’s effort in the field, and despite Marsden and Ben Swanson remaining economical, the rest of the bowlers suffered.

When a declaration was eventually made, it was a case of batting for three-and-a-half sessions to achieve a draw, rather than chasing the 431-run target.

Escott and Hughes put on 70 for the first wicket, but both fell in the space of nine balls as the opening bowlers came back for their second spells, and from there, defeat always looked likely.

Gnodde battled hard for his 54, but when he was run out by Dewhurst, the visitors were five wickets down with several hours left in the day.

And while the lower-order pair of Harrison and Pettman again showed resolve with the bat, Crichard again pulled it out of the bag to secure victory with his second five-wicket haul of the match, and the third of his first-class career.

His eventual match figures of 11-142 were a fair reflection of his control and precision, and rightly earned him the match award.

Cambridge’s victory meant that they deservedly sealed a 2-1 win across the three formats, following their Twenty20 win and 50-over defeat.

For years I have dreamed of studying at Oxford. Now, I need your support

Lulu Jemimah
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For years I have dreamed of studying at Oxford. Now, I need your support

This is the third year that I am attempting to get onto a masters program. It is also the third year that I may fail to do so.

I have been luckier than most. Growing up in Uganda and choosing journalism as a career felt like signing up for a future of food stamps – except we don’t even have those. So I wrote for different publications, earned what I could and in 2013 when I received a scholarship to study media in Australia, my life choices felt validated.

After some shocking grades in my first year, I felt like I could barely keep up. But following support from lecturers and classmates, and practically moving into the library, by the end of the second year I saw massive improvements in my marks.

That wasn’t the best thing that happened though: I’d finally found what I wanted to do with my life. At the time, I was doing both film studies and creative writing and had discovered a gap in the market for publishing Ugandan stories. I also discovered the term ‘cultural anthropologist’ and thought I would do just that through creative writing. All I needed was to do my masters, then a Phd and become an academic. I went to work looking for options for graduate study.

Three universities in the UK gave me offers – but their generosity did not extend to funding. Then I came across the Mst in Creative Writing at Oxford University’s Centre for Continuing Education. It emphasised cross-cultural (tick) and cross-genre (tick, tick) as well as scholarly investigation and creative research. It felt personally tailored to my graduate ambitions. I poured everything into that application, packed my bags and returned home to start a podcast and work on films. I waited for news from Oxford.

Then I got accepted (even after an interview where I spent half the time apologising for how badly I was performing). This offer too did not come with funding, but I spent months looking for alternative scholarships and grants. With the deadline for financial declaration growing closer I decided to take a risk and open a crowdfunding page.

I was so embarrassed that it had come to this. In the beginning, I only shared it with a few close friends and it was their open and genuine support that encouraged me to go public. Those who could gave willingly, and those who couldn’t sent messages of encouragement and shared the page with their own friends. I received a lot of support from home and abroad.

Earlier this year, a very deserving Ugandan friend had to give up her spot in Columbia even if the university was generous enough to give her a scholarship that would have relieved her of a third of the tuition cost. She isn’t the only one.

I have 17 days left to my crowdfunding campaign. Since this is an ‘all or nothing’ approach, if I do not meet the target, I lose even the money that has been pledged so far. Please drop by if you can help, and if not, I ask that you share the link in case there is anyone else who can. I am all out of other options.

Lulu has just under two weeks to raise nearly £5,000 to keep her place at Oxford. You can donate to her crowdfunding campaign here: http://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/the-university-of-oxford-chose-me

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