Thursday, May 22, 2025
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Cocktail of the week: Lemon drop

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Who didn’t love sherbet drops as a kid? Those hard lemon sweets filled with sherbet that you would always find at your grandparent’s house. This cocktail is the adult equivalent of that childhood favourite. It combines citrus, orange liqueur and vodka for the perfect blend of tart and sweet. It’s also incredibly cheap, with vodka and triple sec being two of the cheapest spirits you can buy. Thanks to the small measurement sizes, you can also make quite a few of these from your litre bottle of vodka, saving even more money in the long-term.

Ingredients:

50 ml Vodka
15 ml Triple sec
25 ml Fresh lemon juice
Lemonade
1 tbsp sugar
Ice cubes
1 fresh lemon

Method:

1. Wet the rim of the glass with some lemon juice and then dip this in some sugar to rim the glass. Do this a few minutes ahead of time so the sugar can dry and adhere well to the glass.

2. Place Vodka, Triple Sec, and lemon juice into a cocktail shaker with four-five ice cubes. Sugar can be added to your taste, although 1 tbsp should be about right.

3. Shake this vigorously for about 30 seconds and then strain into your glass.

4. Top up with lemonade to help stretch the alcohol and provide you with a bigger drink.

5. Garnish the drink with a lemon twist by cutting a circular slice of lemon, and then detaching the peel from the pulp. Cut the peel into a single strip and then twist it into a spiral and place it in the glass.

Underground and boxed inside

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The London Overground ploughs through Shoreditch, and beneath the railway arches lies Village Underground. It’s a fascinating venue. The tight tunnels and narrow passageways give way to a monolithic brick wall which towers over the side of the stage—a stage where Boxed In stand.

This concert is the band’s largest to date, although given frontman Oli Bayston’s nack for a nifty melody and tight production, it would not be surprising if they went onto much bigger things from here. Their sound, somewhere between dance and alt rock, fills the cavern.

Everything the band do has a real sense of urgency tonight—cymbals are smashed, bass strings are plucked, strobes flash, all with a ferocious intensity which invigorates some of the more plodding songs from latest LP, Melt.

The final minutes of ‘London Lights’ are transformed from a pretty dull breakdown into a frenzy—synths soar like organs around the venue, while Bayston yells “Take you back for love!” The added pace doesn’t always come off as well as the band might like. On their more reflective tracks, not that there are many, it’s all a bit too much. The power of Bayston’s most restrained and beautiful song to date, ‘Open Ended’, is lost: the climactic bridge—during which he sings of Icarus—flies too close to a beat-driven sun, has its wings melted, and dies.

Boxed In choose not to look back to their first, eponymous LP, and it’s a move that pays off —in retrospect their earlier songs quite understandably don’t demonstrate the same nuance as their later tracks. Despite this, it’s one from Boxed In which is the standout track of the night—’All Your Love is Gone’. Perhaps it’s just that the song’s venue is appropriate—after all, the line about “rusty railroad tracks” and the stabbing train-like piano chords remind the crowd of what’s going on above the gloomy shadows in the rafters of the venue.

Still, as the song reaches its finale, the crowd are really moving, and Boxed In leave the stage, their big gig a success. But before they go, Bayston informs the audience that he and the rest of the band will come and meet everyone at the exit. It’s a nice touch—but trains have to be caught, so it was a transfer from Underground back to Overground before Boxed In had a chance to say goodbye.

Pembroke appoints first-ever meme reps

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Pembroke College has passed a motion to add the role of meme rep to the JCR committee.

The meme rep will create and run a Facebook page called ‘Memebroke’, posting weekly memes and providing memes for bops and other college events. The motion, proposed by Freshers Rebeccah Williams and Hazel Ellender, noted: “College spirit and memes are both highly important, and particularly difficult to promote.

“The addition of recognised meme reps will encourage both of these simultaneously. Meme reps will be a valuable and cherished extension to the Pembroke community.” Williams told Cherwell, “Hazel and I decided to introduce the position of meme reps as we thought it would help boost morale around college especially around fifth and sixth week.

“We think it’s important for the college to stay current and that it would help Pembroke preserve its friendly and fun atmosphere. We intend to use the memes to help promote Pembroke events such as bops and also sporting events in which Pembroke are competing such as Torpids.”

An amendment to the motion requires second-year student Francesco Pozzetti to post one of his memes weekly on the JCR Facebook page following the failure of his motion “To officially consider Juventus an immoral and an illegal organisation, and to therefore discourage any member of this college from supporting them”.

Pozzetti told Cherwell: “After an intense thirty minutes debate my motion regarding Juventus mafia in Italian football narrowly failed. My attention turned to the meme motion, and I managed to include an amendment that allows me to inform people about the Juventus mafia by posting a meme once a week on our JCR official Facebook page. Luckily, students still believe in memes as a way to get relief at 2am in the middle of an essay crisis, and so the meme motion passed: Pembroke is proud to be the first college to include a meme rep in its committee.”

OxFolk reviews: ‘March Glas’ by Elfen

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It isn’t often that a folk music album seems to resonate with joy and life—when the ending of each track seems to reverberate on long after the final note has died away. Elfen’s debut release March Glas has this quality in buckets, seeming to simply emanate from this trio. With each track leading effortlessly into the next, it is a finely constructed piece of art that spirits the listener away into a world of laughter and song—and almost forces you on your feet to dance along. The group’s embracing of their Welsh language and tradition serves to root this music in a strong sense of place and belonging, with each new tune soaked in a celebration of ‘Welshness’.

Like all good folk music, this album is infused with stories and history, making each individual listening a journey into the depths of Wales. Each tune represents a different route into the music: the slow instrumental track ‘Adar man y mynydd’ (small birds of the mountain) is a beautifully slow, ambling old tune that gradually glides into a rich, full sound, helped by the addition of low and high whistles. Elsewhere on the album, the title track is a gloriously foot-tapping, rollicking song with a driving fiddle from Helina Rees. Stacey Blythe’s rolling accordion line underlies each track and carries the music forward, whilst Jordan Price Williams’ fantastic performance on bass and whistles gives each track its own distinctive feel. Indeed, the sheer breadth of style and emotion this trio manage to evoke is quite astounding—a set of jigs are given a jazz twist that manages to pleasantly surprise the listener again and again, whilst the slow, nostalgic singing of ‘Chwarae’, a poem by one of Wales’s great poets Waldo Williams, evokes lazy summer evenings as the listener is washed away on waves of gorgeous harp playing (Stacey Blythe).

Named fittingly after the Welsh word for ‘element’, Elfen’s music is not only carefully built out of ancient Welsh stories and poems and is beautiful to study—it is also simply a joy to listen to. It’s so much fun. Hearing it, you can’t help but smile. It’s the kind of music that would be even better, if that is possible, when heard live (head to those tour dates!) March Glas is a wonderful album, injecting colour and life into the world of Welsh folk music—a veritable musical ‘cwtch’ you can return to again and again.

Shark Tales Episode 4 [Season 6]

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Ever wondered what your friends are up to during their time in Oxford? Not to worry, they’ve been caught on camera. This is Shark Tales.

89th Academy Awards: Predictions

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Well what an incredible film year it’s been. We’ve seen Marvel smash box office records, the DCEU continue to struggle in its quest for superhero domination and a massive increase in popularity for independent films across the UK and the World. However, once more, it is that time of the year when our focus turns to the Oscars, that one incredible night when the entire entertainment world is watching. Funnily enough, if anyone needed any proof as to how important the night is to Hollywood, when I was having lunch one day in the Hard Rock Café in Los Angeles, I was told that instead of Christmas Day, the one day off work the waitresses had all year was the day of the Oscars. Anyway, without further ado, here are my Oscar predictions for the awards on Sunday 26th February. Will La La Land dance its way to glory, or will Moonlight’s luck shine upon its chances? Only time will tell, but until then, here are my predictions:

Best Film Editing—La La Land

As is traditional, the Best Editing Oscar is a key precursor to the Best Picture victor. Although not the same result that year, Tom Cross walked away with the Oscar for Whiplash, and will most likely do so again for his terrific work on making a painstakingly-shot musical feel like a fleeting glimpse at Seb and Mia’s life. Expect him to become a winner once more.

Best Original Song- ‘City of Stars’—La La Land

It is extremely unlikely that anything other than La La Land will walk away with both (or even either of) the awards for the music on the big night itself, and rightly so. Hurwitz’s music is magical, inspiring, and tremendously catching, and ‘City of Stars’ is the emotional centre of the film. If I were a betting man, this would be my most sure-fire category; it’s basically already won.

 Best Original Score—La La Land

See above for an explanation as to why La La Land will win this awards: once more, it’s almost a guarantee.

Best Animated Feature—Kubo and the Two Strings

This is a very interesting category once more this year. Until one month ago, it seemed that Zootropolis would calmly stroll away with this award, but then came the Oscar Nominations, and the BAFTA awards. Kubo was nominated for special effects at the Oscars (almost unheard-of for an animated film) and won the BAFTA, signifying that there is a lot of love for the film. Expect it to pull off an upset on Oscar night and win the prize.

Best Foreign Language Film—The Salesman

Although Toni Erdmann has all of the critical praise imaginable for a foregin film (and perhaps should have made it onto the Best Picture list), the director of The Salesman has had very public troubles in attending the ceremony due to President Trump’s border controls, so expect the political force behind the Academy to push The Salesman to victory. This will be the evening’s ‘Protest Vote’.

Best Adapted Screenplay—Moonlight

Although Arrival won the WGA award in this category(a usual precursor to this category), expect the Academy to lavish some praise on Moonlight here, a film that will not find much love in the major categories except for Supporting Actor. This will be their chance to reward the film with a big-ish trophy, so expect this one to be a major victory for Barry Jenkins’ sophomore outing.

Best Original Screenplay: Kenneth Longergan—Manchester by the Sea

This is one of the most difficult awards to predict. La La Land won many of the precursor awards for his category, but in all honest Kenneth Lonergan’s screenplay for Manchester by the Sea exudes such raw, emotional power it would be a true shame if it weren’t to win. Even though you have to be a brave man to bet against La La Land in almost any category this year, I expect Kenneth Lonergan to win his first Oscar here.

Best Supporting Actress: Viola Davis—Fences

It is extremely unlikely that anyone other than Viola Davis will walk away with the Best Supporting Actress Oscar this Sunday night. Don’t get me wrong, she is terrific. But in no way is it a supporting performance: she is in well-over half of the film, and dominates almost every screen she appears in. Without Davis, Michelle Williams would surely win for her emotionally-devastating turn in Manchester by the Sea, which is a true supporting performance. However, expect Viola Davis to walk away an Oscar winner on Sunday night.

Best Supporting Actor: Mahershala Ali—Moonlight

As I suggested earlier, it is very likely that the Academy will look to give Moonlight some serious awards love here. Mahershala Ali is terrific in the film, fulfilling a true supporting-role and becoming such an emotional crux of the narrative it’s impossible for the audience to forget him during every frame in which he does not appear. Although it is a shame that Jeff Bridges will miss-out for the brilliant Hell or High Water, Ali is a deserving winner this year.

Best Actress: Emma Stone—La La Land

Discarding Meryl Streep’s guaranteed nomination for the poor Florence Foster Jenkins, it is a very strong field for Best Actress once more this year. Although it seemed that Natalie Portman had the early momentum, and that Isabelle Huppert has the support of the foreign critics, expect Emma Stone to dance her way to the stage to finally collect a well-deserved Oscar this year for her brilliant work in La La Land.

Best Actor: Casey Affleck—Manchester by the Sea

This is, in a welcome change of events, the most unpredictable category this year. The race has been terrifically well-fought, with both Casey Affleck and Denzel Washington holding first place for significant periods of time. Although Washington has much of the current goodwill after a SAG win (a good precursor for the Oscar), I still expect Affleck to win for his magnificently-understated performance in Manchester by the Sea, a film the Academy clearly loves (it received six nominations this year). Especially if La La Land were to take Original Screenplay from under MBTS’s nose, expect Affleck to emerge victorious.

Best Director: Damien Chazelle—La La Land

Once more, expect La La Land to dance away with another well-deserved trophy. It is so brilliantly directed, choreographed, shot and edited, there is no way all of that could not come together without an incredible director. Now don’t get me wrong: although only thirty-two years old, Damien Chazelle is an incredible director with a long career ahead of him. He fully deserves this prize, and will definitely be leaving the Dolby Theatre an Oscar winner on Sunday night.

Best Picture: La La Land

So here we are: the biggest award of the night. As anyone who has been following my earlier predictions will realise, there is a clear favourite: the awards juggernaut that is La La Land. It will win Best Picture on Sunday night, and rightly-so. It is truly joyous: an ever-shining light in the current world that is so-often characterised by darkness and despair. La La Land is one of those rare films that manages to be released at just the perfect time: if one were to watch it at any point over the next four years (or however long Trump lasts), they can expect to be transported from the current times to ‘Another Day of Sun’, a ‘City of Stars’ or even an ‘Epilogue’ of Twenties movie-sets, complete with tap-dancing extras, stunning hand-painted backgrounds and perhaps a different future entirely. Without sounding too fawning of its brilliance, it is one of the best films of the decade, and will walk away a multiple Oscar winner on Sunday night, with Best Director in one hand and Best Picture in the other. – Oliver Barlow

 

As any of my friends will tell you, my attempts to see all of this year’s Oscar contenders have been nothing less than exhaustive (or exhausting, depending on who you ask). Having seen every film nominated in three or more categories, including every Best Picture nominee, now comes my chance to show off and wildly speculate about who I think is most likely to win and, more subjectively, who I think ought to win in each major category.

Let’s kick off with the biggest prize of all: Best Picture. My prediction is that La La Land will win, but, really, Moonlight should win. We’ve all heard the extraordinary hype for La La Land by now (I even gave it a 5-star review), but it’s also one of the safest, most “Oscar-friendly” nominees in years. It’s my favourite of the BP nominees, but it’s hard to argue it’s the best. It’s likely to sweep many of the technical categories (Costume Design, Cinematography, Original Song/Score) anyway, so it would be nice to see the Academy give the top prize to a bolder, more interesting, and arguably more accomplished film like Moonlight.

The category for Best Director is a little closer than the two-horse race for Best Picture—after all, it’s also extremely plausible that Damien Chazelle will win for La La Land, since these nominations tend to go hand-in-hand. Nevertheless, Jenkins displays such a command of the material in Moonlight, and such a unique and compelling vision, he really should (and probably will) win this category.

The competition for Best Actor has generated lots of talk about Casey Affleck, so there’s an outside chance he’ll take this one, but Gosling put the prep in for his role and it shows, so he will probably take the Oscar. Nevertheless, Garfield’s stoic, empathic performance as Desmond Doss in Hacksaw Ridge really deserves more attention than it’s getting—so Garfield deserves the trophy in my opinion.

We all know that Emma Stone will win Best Actress for La La Land, but my vote would go to Amy Adams for Arrival. Before you argue with me: yes, I’m well aware that Adams wasn’t nominated. But I’m also aware this is one of the biggest Oscar snubs in years; her performance in Arrival is incredible and to be honest, this category is a hot mess this year—actresses like Adams and Taraji P. Henson have gone un-nominated for truly sterling work.

Mahershala Ali deserves Best Supporting Actor, because his incredible performance is the bedrock of what makes Moonlight great. That said, Dev Patel’s work in Lion is an incredible combination of preparation and performance. Lion is one of my favourite Best Picture nominees, and if it deserves any award, it’s this one.

Though I didn’t care much for Fences, Viola Davis’ performance was nothing short of masterful. If anyone else wins Best Supporting Actress, it’ll be a real upset.

Finally, to cartoons: Zootropolis is a brilliant film, and because it was released by Disney and grossed a billion dollars it’s almost a lock that it’ll win the Best Animated Feature category. However, Kubo and the Two Strings is one of the most beautiful and engrossing animated films ever made, jaw-dropping both technically and emotionally. Watch it now if you haven’t yet, so you have something intelligent-sounding to say if it becomes an underdog champion on the night.

So there you have it: possibly the most subjective guide to an Oscar’s ceremony that’s ever been written, and one I hope you’ll have fun rereading once the results come in and proven heinously wrong. Jonnie Barrow

 

Reinvention: a love affair with language

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I recently read Jhumpa Lahiri’s In Other Words and Elena Lappin’s What Language Do I Dream In?: A Memoir one after the other, a happy coincidence.  Lahiri’s In Other Words, a collection of essays, is a type of memoir recounting her relationship with the Italian language. After years trying to learn Italian in America by using ‘teach yourself’ books, Lahiri made the bold decision to move to Italy and the even bolder decision to write only in Italian. She describes her relationship with the Italian language as a love affair— the language is Beatrice to her Dante, “the poets inspiration, forever unattainable” and “marked by distance, silence”.

Elena Lappin speaks five languages, Russian, Czech, German, French and English, a result of her peripatetic childhood—”five languages in search of an author’. Born in Soviet Moscow, her family moved first to Prague and then Hamburg. The author then studied in Israel, moved to Canada and then America and finally Britain, where she has lived the longest. Her work begins with a revelation, the discovery of a biological father she was unaware of, which in turn triggers her mediation on the languages she has lived in, languages which she has made her own and the language she has chosen above all others: English. She writes, “as a writer, I died when my parents decided to emigrate and I knew it. And then came the miracle of being reborn in English.” Both writers realise that language can represent a choice, an opportunity to be reborn.

For Lahiri, Italian allows her a creative freedom as the writer she has never found before, because she elects to use it. It is not forced upon her by anyone, as the Bengali of her parents or the English of the culture she grew up in—but never felt she belonged within—were forced upon her. Lahiri is used to linguistic exile but her exile in In Other Words is self-imposed. For Lahiri, the authors can be reborn with each new language chosen. Her exile is a kind of test, a hope flung wide, that the creative impulse is something innate unleashed by the language of her choice rather than dependent on her ‘mother tongue’; the creative impulse precedes language and Italian allows her to know this as a certainty.

Lahiri’s essays were all written in Italian, translated by Ann Goldstein to English and produced in a bilingual tradition. I have not read Lahiri’s previous work, written in English, so I can’t judge whether her voice carries across, but there is a striking simplicity to the translated English—and from the sections I can read, to the Italian as well. Lahiri’s Italian, the writer herself acknowledges, will always be imperfect, but this allows her a freedom, a bravery; “from the creative point of view there is nothing so dangerous as security”.

Critics have patronisingly applauded Lahiri’s return to the US and what they presume will be a return to her use of English. But the book with all its imperfections makes something perfect, beautiful, sincere and brave, one that I think writers will return to again and again. So many writers, such as Lappin, recreate themselves in different languages. Just as Lahiri writes “a translation is a wonderful, dynamic encounter between two languages, two texts, two writers. It entails a doubling, a renewal” this book is a renewal for all involved.

Lahiri’s experience as the daughter of immigrants, caught between two languages, parallels Lappin’s on many levels. Lappin’s work is full of warmth, wise, full of comic anecdotes. It’s a history of her family as much as her own memoir, going back multiple generations and projecting forward into the future, to her children who must also make their linguistic choice, having each “arrived in a different linguistic constellation”. She finds her identity not just in language, but ulimately in her Jewishness, an identity which drives her to leave Germany, to find her linguistic home elsewhere. Moving so much gives her a fearlessness and reinventing herself becomes easier and easier.

Yet loss also pervades her work. Lappin has not lost her history—she instead possesses a collective cultural memory due to her Jewish identity—but she has lost home after home. In English she finds a home for her voice, but she still feels a deeply personal loss. Lahiri writes of speaking Italian in Rome and a shop assistant assuming she had learnt the language from her husband—because of the colour of Lahiri’s skin. Her voice is not enough in the speaking world, a loss she feels everyday that she tries to write in Italian, but also when she uses English.

Both writers still find different kinds of displacement greet them wherever they go, but they use this displacement to empower them, to recreate themselves and their work, to create daring, unforgettable work.

Time-turners and doppelgängers: battling homesickness at Oxford

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I think I’d be a crippling disappointment to my ten-year-old self. My first thought upon acquiring a time-turner probably wouldn’t revolve around a desire to be simultaneously battered in two tutorials at once. Unlike Hermione Granger, I’d probably first use my additional time to renegotiate my currently distant and frayed relationship with a systemised sleep cycle. After all, it’s sixth week: I’m already the shattered husk of the eager-eyed 0th week student I once pretended to be. At Oxford, there just never seems to be enough time.

Yet, we battle on. Feeling as deflated as IKEA flatpack furniture and tired as aged wallpaper, we furnish our lives with far too much to do. The idea of missing out on the ‘Oxford Experience’ is incomprehensible. We must all bustle on the eight-week-long highway to success and survival. But, amongst all this rapidity there exists a desire to escape. To leave the city, it’s social chaos and unrelenting deadlines, and just, well, go home.

Homesickness is not a foreign concept to the university student. Yet, it seems that Oxford has taken great efforts to create its own special brew. Procured guilt and an undertone of apparent selfishness combines to create a powerful notion: the belief that you lead two separate lives that often seem irreconcilable.

Part of the problem of homesickness is that you often self-diagnose yourself as its root cause. University is supposedly meant to be the time of your life, and getting into Oxford was no mean feat. The reality then, of life slightly dragging at points and missing the comforts of home, doesn’t really cross your mind whilst you read that acceptance letter with trembling hands. Oxford does not fail to present you with countless opportunities—one for each essay crisis—and, when you are unhappy, the natural conclusion is to blame yourself for not taking enough of them.

Indeed, the collegiate system does essentially grant you a home away from home; happy days spent within college can make everything seem quite well with the world. But, sometimes, amid all the insularity and relentless welfare teas, one can feel quite suffocated, lonely and unable to display any of these sentiments. This is especially true on the weekends where hoards of tourists will gaze at you aghast, as if the tears on your face form part of an out-of-place 20th Century water feature. Often, then, just as you have begun to feel comfortable during term-time, you are forced to pack up your belongings and clear your room to make space for some all-important conference guest.

This guilt felt for experiencing homesickness often combines with the knowledge that, as Oxford students, we can prove rather self-centered with our priorities. I have often found myself—more than once—easily finding excuses to justify why I may have forgotten to call a friend from home, or buy my brother’s birthday present earlier than the day before. Similarly, it must seem somewhat ridiculous, from an outsider’s perspective, that the times when I choose to Skype home often revolve around the points when I’ve decided not to fall into an essay crisis (that was probably avoidable).

As often as we may express a desire to escape from the land of dreaming spires, there also exists a marked tendency to avoid or postpone contacting those from outside the Oxford bubble. After all, keeping up with everything during our eight-week terms can prove quite a struggle. Thus, we idealise about returning home whilst simultaneously putting off connection with the very people and places we long for.

If only we could all have our own doppelgänger that allowed us to keep both of our lives successfully running in tandem. Then we wouldn’t feel so constantly swamped.

Letter from Abroad: Paris

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After months of finalising my ever-elusive year abroad plans, I have found myself interning at a legal translation firm in Paris for ten months.

Perhaps it’s not been as glamorous or lucrative as working as a British Council teaching assistant, as many of my friends have done. The experience, for sure, hasn’t always been easy. But it’s definitely been rewarding. During my time spent in Paris I think I will particularly remember the effect that various recent terrorist attacks have had on the city. The mentality of the general population has been unnerved, and continues to be so, more than one might expect.

When I arrived, what struck me first was the sheer amount of soldiers that marked many of the streets. It’s the kind of thing you get used to, but from time-to-time can’t help but feel slightly disturbed and question ‘Should this feel so normal?’

At the office we have, on several occasions, pondered over where the next attack might take place. It is this disconcerting atmosphere which has resulted in the tourism industry suffering quite a severe blow; apparently, there are significantly fewer non-European visitors than in recent years. No doubt this is true, yet it is hard to believe this whilst queuing for the Musée d’Orsay on a Sunday morning.

I have been pleasantly surprised as to how friendly Parisians generally are. Despite their reputation for being rude and cold, in particular to foreigners, I have found that if you try (your best) to engage with someone in French, they are often incredibly helpful. Saying that, Parisians do have that awkward tendency to immediately address you in English.

However, it’s safe to say, the English do still have a bad reputation in France. I can’t fully understand why, but whenever I mention that I’m from the United Kingdom, the typical response I receive is “oh dear”. Then again, that response is always followed by a laugh. I smile bemusedly back.

People often talk about the fear of missing out during their year abroad. For me this has manifested itself more as a sense of not really belonging. You see university life continue without you, while you yourself are still trying to settle down and express yourself coherently amidst swathes of colloquial and rapidly spoken French. To this day, I am still not sure whether it is acceptable to start addressing new acquaintances as ‘tu’.

Nevertheless, the year abroad has been refreshing. Just spending time surrounding yourself with a different culture is an incredible eye-opener.

Sometimes, it’s the small things that serve to best reflect surprising differing interests and tendencies. For example, in comparison to Blackwell’s in Oxford, the local French bookshop has significantly more police thrillers, and I am still yet to find a single English book. I have also found discussions of Brexit and colonialism with French people particularly interesting, especially since their consequences are still very much present.

The year abroad is an incredible opportunity, but also a challenge. Ultimately, all you can do is embrace and enjoy it as much as you can, before coming back home and knuckling down for finals.

Is May following Trump’s model?

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Since Donald Trump was inaugurated on 20 January this year, it seems as though there has been a daily barrage of outcry after outcry. Some would say, given the campaign he ran, and the populist nature of the platform he ran on, this is not surprising.

What has surprised many, is the swiftness at which he has imposed (the now overturned) travel ban, and the flippant nature with which his plans appear to have been drawn up. A further surprise has been Theresa May’s unwillingness to condemn the ban, and, what’s
more, her own response to the refugee crisis: withdrawing a scheme to allow unaccompanied child refugees sanctuary in the UK.

The initial resettlement plan was proposed by Labour peer Alf Dubs, and was passed in 2016 as an amendment to the Immigration Act: it paved the way to allow 3,000 unaccompanied refugee children into the UK.

On Thursday of last week (9 February), it was announced that this scheme was coming to a close after admitting only 350 child refugees into the UK. There has been the expected anger. Conservative MP Nadhim Zahawi, who is of Iraqi origin but a British citizen, called it “a sad sad day to feel like a second-class citizen … the order does apply to myself and my wife as we were both born in Iraq.” The impact of the ban is shockingly pervasive.

What is most worrying, though, is what this says about our government, its priorities, and what this means for the Western world. Has May seen Trump’s ‘crack-down’ on immigrants and refugees as paving the way for more stringent measures in the UK? Has this been a long-planned U-turn on a promise, that the government tried to sneak out in and amongst all of the outcry at Trump?

Or are there more pressing reasons for the withdrawal of the scheme? Perhaps there is some issue of national security at risk. Perhaps the costs of these child refugees are crippling and would divert funds from hospitals, or education?

Whatever the reason, it seems unlikely that there is a reasonable response for this – the government certainly hasn’t furnished the public with one. What is more concerning is what this might mean for the western world. It seems that we are slowly moving towards a policy of isolationism, where nations forget that we are all citizens of the world, and have du- ties to one another. Instead, states are putting sovereignty above all else, including humanity.

Trump symbolises a far wider problem: people feeling disenfranchised. Through his continuous stream of outrageous actions he gives other governments carte blanche to act in equally outrageous ways. More worryingly, he may be allowing other governments to hide behind the furore that his actions are creating.

Time will tell if our own government will continue down this path. But, without a doubt, May’s decision to renege on a promise to child refugees is a worrying sign. One can only hope this is simply a misstep, and not the first step on a path to far more nationalistic policies.