Monday, May 12, 2025
Blog Page 908

Couch to 5K

Emma Leech
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Couch to 5K

It’s 7am. Light is just beginning to make its way across the quad, gradually erasing last night’s frost. The air is still bitingly cold. Every breath feels like hard work. A few dog walkers and early risers shuffle around, trying to convince themselves that the freezing of their limbs is rejuvenating, not soul-destroying.

I stand amongst it all, in trainers that are more accustomed to Park End and sportswear that a family member bought me in a flash of optimism that I may one day actually exercise. Apparently, that day has come. Suddenly, an obnoxiously chirpy American voice rings out, causing birds to scatter and the pre-dawn zombies to glance at me confusedly: “Welcome to Couch to 5K, begin your warm-up now.”

Yes I know. Both my reliance on technology and my lack of self-motivation have got me to the point where I have to use a recorded voice that provides step-by-step guidance just in order to off set that inevitable heart disease for a little longer.

When you first start using it, the app proudly proclaims to the entire park that you are to run for a short thirty seconds and then walk for a few minutes, trying to pretend to the other runners that half a minute of light jogging is not making you want to throw up your own lungs.

With each week, in a convenient eight week course, the app scales up the running and down the walking until, apparently, you are that Lycra-clad fitness fanatic that skips happily into breakfast after her early morning 5K for a banana and a subtle brag to her friends. In all fairness, the app does work. Without it, I would wander aimlessly for half an hour then return to college and lie about having beaten my non-existent personal best.

I am still in the beginning stages, though, and I will admit it is tough. There are probably rowers reading this, laughing at me so much that they almost choke on their dry pasta, but as someone to whom sports and exercise come less naturally than reading and gin, this has been a profound learning process. I spend the first ten minutes of three mornings a week scorning myself under my breath as I drag my already aching limbs out of bed. But, in all honesty, I have noticed a difference.

Getting up early actually allows you to be fully awake in your 9ams, not falling asleep on the spacebar while taking notes. And even if, three weeks in, the physical effects are slow to show, you still have a smugness that glows from every pore and feels pretty great. I mean, if you don’t tell anyone, or at least put a timestamped sunrise picture on your Snapchat story, what is the point of going running at all?

Life Divided: Kebab vans

Matthew Palmer and Stephen Hawes
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Life Divided: Kebab vans

For (Matthew Palmer):

We’ve all been there. You stumble and crawl out of PT or Cellar, or whichever wretched hive of scum and villainy that has occupied your attention for the last few hours.

It’s not been a great night. The music was crap, you overdid yourself at pre-drinks, and you missed that blissful happy-drunk phase, only to plummet straight into the depths of being completely plastered.

Now, as you dumbly reacquaint yourself with the bitterly numbing Oxford night air, you realise that you’ve lost your friends. But, even in your drunken stupor, you know that only a fool would panic. You know there’s only one place that they possibly could be. Hassan’s.

You totter past the crying students, drunken louts and other club detritus, up the hill towards the promised land. You resolutely trudge forward, imbued by the new sense of purpose in your life. You see it ahead of you, the warm glow spilling out onto the Broad Street pavement. A new sense of hope fills you. The queue is mercifully short, and you fall in to join it.

All thoughts of friends have gone for a minute; they are not here yet, and you have time— and a stomach—to fill. Your befuddled mind is momentarily intimidated by the sheer choice on offer, and you haven’t quite made a decision before it’s your turn.

“Next please!” You panic! What do you say to this noble provider of quality fare?

“Cheesssy Chipss,” you slur, and quick as lightning you have a steaming pile of flaccid chips in your hand, smothered with greasy plastic goodness. The heat of the chips warms your heart and spreads throughout the body. You have a surge of energy, the vigour required to get you home. As you turn around, you see your mates just approaching, and you break into a smile. Nobody can resist coming together to worship at the greasy altar.

Hassan has done it again.

Against (Stephen Hawes):

There’s something quite shameful about a late-night kebab.

Drunken crowds stopping off at Hussein’s on the way back from Bridge may not notice it, but try standing in the undulating queue for ‘chicken meat’ and chips in the freezing cold, sober, and one will definitely notice something awry. Sordid almost.

The kebab van is a staple for a night out in Oxford. I have read that there are more kebab vans per square kilometre in this city than any other in the country. Even if this isn’t quite the unadulterated truth, there’s a bloody lot of them. The kebab, or whatever that thing is that you always find yourself choosing, is the rather predictable end to an evening that you promised yourself would be something amazingly extra-ordinary only a few hours before.

The kebab van itself, between the hours of about half-one and half-three, seems to attract us students at our very worst: intoxicated, hungry, and jaded. There have been several occasions where I have witnessed scuffles and arguments outside such establishments, and several more where I have found myself talking to people trying over-zealously to insist that they are not half as inebriated as their off -rhythm swaying would suggest.

It seems that the majority of people ordering at an Oxford kebab van are already way past their bedtime.

Of course, the kebab van, the dubious meatproducts, and the punters more suited to eating out of a trough, are not likely to go away. The whole phenomenon is far too lucrative and far too popular.

As a fresher, there seemed to be weeks where I survived purely off of large doners and late-night burgers myself. But the feeling of walking away from the warmth of the serving hatch, clutching the regulatory polystyrene box, is never a satisfactory one.

Perhaps, by then, I have sobered up just a bit too much. Or, perhaps, I should have simply gone home to eat burnt toast in peace.

My secondary school was a vibrant patchwork of people and cultures

Heather Cant
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My secondary school was a vibrant patchwork of people and cultures

In your last years of pre-pubescence, when you’re riding scooters and eating 5p Freddos, you are blissfully oblivious to the school dilemma that slowly but surely takes over your parents’ lives.

For some families, it’s out of their hands, with only one school option available, or you lack the time or money to fret over league tables and parenting forums. Alternatively, you’re already settled into a prep school feeding into a private school with the end goal of a successful Oxbridge application clearly in sight.

Other parents, particularly those in urban, densely populated areas, with many schools within a single catchment area, can feel like their child’s future is hanging precariously at a cliff edge, and their decision will either haul them to success or let them plummet to their doom.

In Haringey, the school experience can vary massively. It is the most divided borough in London: four of its 19 wards are in the wealthiest ten per cent in London, yet many of its wards are in the poorest 20 per cent nationally. As you’d expect, the wealthier wards boast high-achieving schools, and the poorer parts, such as Tottenham, have schools that anxious parents go to great measures to avoid.

Take my own secondary school. Situated in the UK’s most diverse postcode, it was a vibrant patchwork of people and cultures stitched messily together. Students spoke a language of languages, importing foreign words from a multitude of places within a single sentence: “Drop me some money for a lahmacun, wallahi I’ll pay you back.” It was a school of acceptance, everyone belonging in not belonging, everyone indiscriminately and aff ectionately insulted for their most personal insecurities, with sticky-floored corridors and graffitied walls, and with such a high immigration rate that I was the only native English person in most of my classes.

It was also a school that families actively, and expensively, avoided. Despite its ‘Good’ Ofsted rating, the below-average A*-C GCSE rate, the rundown surroundings, and the rumours of a knife-carrying, hooligan-like student body gave parents the impression that it would only churn out aimless sixteen-year-olds with a brick-wall future and a heroin addiction.

On my road alone, despite plenty of local options, families rented their homes out for a year and moved into the wealthier areas of the borough to be in the catchment area of the ‘good’ schools. For the parents unable to escape being allocated the Tottenham school place, ridiculous appeals were made, such overly loud school, bells and one prospective student deeming himself “too clever” for a school of “chavs”.

Fair enough. Parents have the right to decide where and how their children are educated. However, it is important to recognise that, even within the state system, opportunity is bought. And that for many families, there is not a choice. Students from lower income backgrounds of equal or better ability than their wealthier peers are denied the same opportunities because of obstacles that result from low-income, deprived areas.

The impact is telling when comparing exam results for the two schools, both state comprehensives, both in the same borough: 86 percent of students achieving 5 A*-C grades, including English and Maths, in the ‘good’ school, compared with a mere 50 per cent in the Tottenham school. Many of these obstacles, such as low aspiration and behavioural issues, would be reduced if the school system was less divisive and there was a greater spread of financial backgrounds in the student body.

This is not an issue unique to Haringey, nor is there an easy solution. Despite this, research from the OECD has confirmed that increasing the social mix of students in schools serves to improve the performance of disadvantaged pupils without any negative effect on the school’s overall performance.

It is easy to assume that exam results and league tables reflect quality of education. However, despite a seemingly poor pass rate of only 50 percent, the fact that my school had many students starting off their secondary education with only a handful of English words who then passed their Language and Literature GCSEs, is testament to a dedicated teaching body and an ethos of encouragement amongst students facing similar obstacles.

The painfully slow reading of Of Mice and Men was compensated for by a keenness to learn that showed itself, rather than in endless A grades stamped on coursework essays, in the playground discussions about whether Curly was a “wasteman” or the mimicking “brap” sounds of George’s gun. Only as a result of this environment could I have found myself surrounded by friends discussing the gendered nature of Islamophobia, drinking Somali tea, and listening to Skepta.

I sing praise for my own school. It was a challenging, vibrant environment in which the interests, such as migration, nationality and language, that led me to my degree choice were formed. It was an experience that I wouldn’t trade for the easier ride of a ‘good’ school. Yet it was full of engaged, intelligent students with unrealised potential who, in a school system more diverse in terms of financial background, may have had the chance to flourish that they deserved.

Letter from abroad: Jordan

Life team
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Letter from abroad: Jordan

Before venturing to Jordan, the danger of sexual harassment was at the forefront of my mind. Everyone was made well aware of the likelihood of women experiencing unwanted attention. However, since arriving here, I noted that sexual harassment towards men also exists, and too is hugely damaging to its victims. Two men agreed to share their experiences:

Harry, 19: “I was walking away from Rainbow Street [a local LGBTQ+ organisation] with the intention of going to the café where I work, when a man I didn’t know began to walk right next to me. Initially, I didn’t think much of it because here it’s quite common to talk to strangers. Ten minutes passed and he began to talk to me. I replied by saying ‘hello’ and asked him how he was. He responded by describing himself as being 32 years of age, tired and not as young as he had been. He explained this sentiment by stating that if he touched my dick it would grow hard in a couple of minutes, whereas if I touched his it might take half an hour. Initially, I didn’t know what to say. Then he leaned over, grabbed my groin saying, ‘you know dick, yes?’ I immediately told him to stop and said that I had a girlfriend, but he continued his pursuit. He said that he would show me his ‘ass’ and that I should go down an alley with him so he could ‘suck my dick’ because he was sure I would like it.”

Thomas, 18: “I was in a taxi, something I do everyday and almost always without any trouble, when the driver began talking to me about the cold weather and how important it was to wear layers. He took my hand and placed it on his thigh so I could feel that he was wearing them. I didn’t really pay any attention the first time, but he kept doing it and then leaned over to touch me, telling me I needed to start wearing layers too. This made me feel uncomfortable, but I felt like I couldn’t do anything, I just tried to keep my hands out of his reach. He then took my hand again, this time placing it closer to his penis and I felt it harden. After I pulled my hand away he reached for my groin. But, seeing as we were near my house I just moved away and got out of the taxi as soon as I could. Once I left the taxi all I could think about was getting home and washing my hands.”

I spoke to Kevin Steen about the matter. Kevin lived in Jordan for several months in 2012 and is the founder of the Jordanian-American non- profit organisation, Rainbow Street.

“I imagine that the older men are looking for sex, though not necessarily exclusively with a man,” he said. “In Jordan, it can prove much more difficult to have a discreet affair with a woman than with a man. Few people would expect two men to be in a sexual relationship. So if an older gentleman is looking for sex, he may focus on young men because that’s who he’s attracted to, or just because it’s a more likely scenario. My guess is that it happens more often to people visiting Jordan because there’s a slimmer chance of those people having some personal or familial connection with the older man’s family. Family ties are strong in Jordan, and ‘family’ can refer to a large clan with a presence in multiple cities. This makes a place like Amman feel like quite a small town, where everyone knows each other, despite it having a population of about two million. The public street has a degree of anonymity that probably emboldens men who are looking for sex from other men.

I hope that incidents would be reported and that action be taken to punish the perpetrator. But I doubt very much that either of those things would take place. Sexual assault is a shameful topic, and for a man to profess that he’s a victim could expose him to a large degree of unwanted attention and possible harassment. The onus falls on Jordanian men to educate each other on what is respectful behaviour to women and other men. If sex outside of marriage and same-sex relations were not both so deeply stigmatised in Jordanian society, solicitations for sex would likely not come in the form of harassment quite so often. These are not issues that are easy to undo.”

Steven Woolfe MEP spotted in Bridge

Felix Pope
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Steven Woolfe MEP spotted in Bridge

Former Ukip party leadership contender and MEP Steven Woolfe was spotted in Oxford’s Bridge nightclub on Thursday night.

After arguing for the proposition ‘This House Believes Liberalism has Become Elitist’ at the Oxford Union, Woolfe and journalist Dan Hodges were recommended that they carry on the night at Bridge.

Arthur Wotton, a first-year student at New College, said: “He was there in black tie after the union debate and I saw him on the dance floor – it seemed like he was lost and was looking for whoever he came with.”

He added that Woolfe “actually seemed fairly pleasant”.

One student who attended Bridge that night told Cherwell he wasn’t aware how long Woolfe stayed but “[the] last time I saw him was at 1 when he was getting a drink from the bar with Dan Hodges.

“He seemed to be laughing though so presumably had a fun time.”

Woolfe became a Ukip MEP in 2014, following a career as a barrister and stints as the party’s migration and economics spokesman.

In 2016 he announced his bid to replace Nigel Farage as Ukip leader, but was however disqualified from running as he had allowed his party membership to lapse for over a year.

In October, he made headlines after being hospitalised after a row with fellow Ukip MEP Mike Hookem. Woolfe claimed that Hookem punched him, an accusation that Hookem denies. Following the incident Woolfe quit Ukip, characterising it as “ungovernable”. 

Dan Hodges is a Blairite blogger and journalist who writes a weekly column for the Mail on Sunday.

Bridge was hosting the launch party for Pembroke’s ‘Studio 54’ themed ball. Woolfe and Hodge’s respective positions on the mid 70s American disco scene are currently unclear.

Steven Woolfe has been contacted for comment.

Review: Lubaina Himid’s ‘Invisible Strategies’

Ewan Davis
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Review: Lubaina Himid’s ‘Invisible Strategies’

Lubaina Himid claims “she is not a painter”. Instead she gives herself the title of ‘political strategist’. And whilst she does frequently use paint, it is hard to disagree with her. Her exhibit, Invisible Strategies exists across the boundaries of medium, combining painting and sculpture, simplicity and complexity. It also exists in two spaces politically, at once being accusatory and healing. There are multiple journeys here: the journey home, the journey of slavery, and in many respects, due to the constant awareness of the past, the journey of time. One of the recurring themes is the sense of appropriation or theft of art and culture: in one room, ‘In Mr Salts Collection’, depicts four crudely painted pots clearly of African origin, each with a number beside them. The painted pots, suggested to be works of art in themselves, have been consumed by a ‘white man’s’ ownership, removing any history or context, emphasised by them being given ambiguous numbers. In another room Himid seems to fight back, with a vast display of European ceramics that she has painted on with images of black men and women, and particularly uncomfortable slave-trade related imagery.

The sculptural ‘Bone in the China: Success to the Africa Trade’ sees a European classical-column transmuted into a bleached white bone. Around it are phrases mourning the lack of narrative given to black heritage in art institutions. The column perhaps meant to represent these museums, which Himid once called “charnel houses full of stolen goods, where the treasures of Black heritage and creativity are hoarded”. Surrounding ‘Bone in the China’ are large works, depicting an equally large variety of black characters in often bizarre scenes: Himid’s training as a theatrical set designer showing through the use of medium and size. The diptych ‘Le Roduer’ takes its name from a slave ship, on which occurred mass murder—yet the images are of reflective spaces, therapist coaches and open windows. ‘Freedom and Change’ appropriates Picasso’s 1922 ‘Two Women Running on the Beach’, with black women subverting the white tradition. These women are booed by white men in the bottom corner of the installation.

Perhaps the largest series in the exhibit is ‘Negative Positives’, a collection of 20 or so Guardian newspaper pages that feature stories depicting people of colour. On each page these articles are left untouched, still very much readable. The rest of the page, which has not been dedicate to such articles, is painted over in blocks of colour and pattern. Himid claims it is an attempt “to reclaim the portrait of the person [and] restore the balance”—presumably the person featured in the articles. The intended effect, being political, is obvious but I question how far it achieves its aims. The eye is immediately drawn to the colourful edited sections, instead of the articles and ‘portraits’ Himid is attempting to elevate. Even when illegible, the ‘white’ stories and advertisements still dominate the pages that are presented to us. The theory behind the practice is flawed also: a questionable endeavour to show, in an exhibit highlighting the erasure of people, depictions of them being presented in the mass media. The news stories and celebrities shown are all ones most will immediately recognise. All she seems to be doing is highlighting an already existing representation.

There is success however, with covers of the Guardian’s ‘Weekend’ magazine being opened out so the back page (in this case always an advertisement) is next to a full page portrait of women of colour who have featured on the covers. The juxtaposition of the two makes the commercialised adverts appear comically tasteless in view of the beauty of the women featured on the opposite leaf. I can’t help but feel sorry for the innocent advertisers and journalists whose work, having been displayed in these ways or painted over, has been made unfairly (and perhaps accidentally) into symbols of white colonialist oppression.

In a room by itself is the diptych ‘ZanzibarSea: Wave Goodbye Say Hello’. It comes as a result of Himid returning to her Zanzibar birthplace, after growing up in the UK. It is aesthetically vastly different to the rest of the exhibit. It does not seem to have a clear agenda either, being intensely personal. It is peaceful. Paint bleeds naturally underneath geometrical patterns, which themselves are drawn by hand, without ruler. There is a ubiquitous lack of form and edge, even though it is occasionally suggested. This creates the sense of ocean, of freedom. The isolation of this painting in its own room seems to be a purposeful creation of a healing space, as well as using the space to amplify the distance and separation that exists between Himid and her birthplace. There is much to see in this exhibit, a complex collection of varied subtly, emotion and medium, which in itself is a testament to the creativity and complexity of the black voices Himid seeks to un-erase.

Invisible Strategies continues until 30 April at Modern Art Oxford.

Protests against Trump continue in Oxford

Ethan Croft
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Protests against Trump continue in Oxford

A third protest against Donald Trump took place in Oxford today, in conjunction with protests held outside the US Embassy in London.

Demonstrators gathered around Carfax Tower this afternoon where speeches from notable local figures were punctuated by chants of “When racists attack, stand up, fight back” and “Theresa May, hear us shout, Muslims in, racists out”.

With around 50 people in attendance, the protests was smaller than Monday’s, which saw approximately 2,500 Oxford residents march from Cornmarket Street to Magdalen Bridge. There were also fewer students. The main banners displayed were those of the local Labour and Green parties.

Oxford University languages tutor Dr. Edmund Griffiths spoke at the protest against “British appeasement of Trump.”

Speaking to Cherwell, he said: “Any hope that Trump’s far-right policies were merely campaign rhetoric has now evaporated. His immigration ban—directed to a great extent against refugees fleeing countries the US has itself invaded and bombed—is an outrage; and his administration’s threats of war against Iran, China, and other countries are a danger to all of us.

“By rushing to Washington to hold Trump’s hand, the Prime Minister has shown that she is badly out of step with democratic opinion in Britain and around the world.”

There were speeches from a number of Oxford councillors, one of whom prophesised: “[Trump] will not complete his tenure as President. He is going to destroy the peace of the world.”

One student protester, who wished be known only as ‘Colden’, told Cherwell: “the message I’m trying to get across is that America and Israel have a ‘cordiale entente’. As a gesture against racism and white nationalism, a good statement, Israel should open up their borders and show solidarity with the persecuted.”

Sheikh Ramzy, Oxford Brookes’ Muslim chaplain said: “we should ban [Trump] here. This country is a democracy. President Trump should resign.”

The protest today follows a week of action in Oxford against President Trump, whose executive order restricting the movement of refugees and citizens of seven Muslim majority countries provoked a wave of protests across the UK on Monday.

MPs outraged as Labour takes no further action against alleged OULC anti-Semitism

Ethan Croft
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MPs outraged as Labour takes no further action against alleged OULC anti-Semitism

A group of Labour MPs have criticised the party’s decision to take no further action against Oxford University Labour Club students accused of anti-Semitism.

At a meeting of the Parliamentary Labour Party on Monday, John Mann, Ruth Smeeth, and Ian Austin all raised concerns about the party’s National Executive Committee (NEC) ruling to suspend any further action towards the pair of OULC members implicated in anti-Semitism by Labour peer Baroness Janet Royall’s investigation last year.

Baroness Royall’s eleven month inquiry, summarised in a report last May, was triggered by the resignation of OULC co-chair Alex Chalmers in February 2016 after the club voted to endorse the controversial Israel Apartheid Week (IAW). He claimed some members of the club “have some kind of problem with Jews.”

Speaking about the NEC’s decision not to take further action, Chalmers told Cherwell: “This latest move by the party leadership is disappointing but unsurprising considering its track record on the subject.”

In response to the NEC’s decision not to take further action, Baroness Royall said: “I am deeply disappointed by the outcome and fear it will further harm relations between the Jewish community and our party by confirming a widely held view that we do not take anti-Semitism seriously.”

John Mann, one of the Labour MPs who railed against the NEC’s decision and chair of the All-party parliamentary group against anti-Semitism, told Cherwell: “Having spoken at Oxford Labour club and to Jewish students, I well understand what has been happening at Oxford. I am extremely disappointed that no action has been taken and that communication with Jewish students throughout the process has been so dismal. Simply put this is not good enough. If our party is to be taken seriously as an antiracist institution, we must act. I will continue to call out inaction and reassure Jewish students and others that apathy to anti-Semitism will not be tolerated by me or many other Labour MPs.”

Oxford’s Jewish Society stated: “The Labour NEC Disputes panel decision to clear two individuals of from OULC of anti-Semitism is utterly shameful and demonstrates yet again that the Labour Party is unwilling to confront the anti-Semitism in its ranks. This decision is bitterly disappointing and will only continue the trend of Labour spaces becoming increasingly frightening and alienating for Jewish students. It is hard to believe that following Baroness Royall finding that the incidents in the OULC took place, that the NEC decided to drop the case.”

An anonymous source told Cherwell: “The total dropping of this investigation seems like the final straw, undermining the very serious allegations made by both myself and my peers.

“Whilst the party and indeed Oxford Labour club may not be, as has been concluded in the past, institutionally anti-Semitic, it certainly has endemic problems that need to be tackled and the only way I truly believe these problems can be solved is if there is full awareness of the facts on the ground and an honest relationship between the party and its Jewish members. What I experienced in OULC was extremely humiliating, demoralising and profoundly unpleasant and I am utterly appalled that justice will never be served.”

 Ian Austin and the OULC were contacted for comment. Ruth Smeeth declined to comment.

Magdalen JCR backs Fairtrade

Romy Catmull
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Magdalen JCR backs Fairtrade

Magdalen College JCR passed a motion on Tuesday applying for Fairtrade accreditation of the college and endorsing the University-wide campaign that aims for every college in the university to be Fairtrade certified.

The motion, proposed by Magdalen’s outgoing Environment and Ethics trustee Matthew Steggles, supports Just Love, a Christian social justice organisation, who are working in collaboration with OUSU Environment and Ethics representatives in colleges. Together the groups are encouraging people to source more ethical goods in their day to day lives.

The proposal states that the JCR “have obligation as global citizens to respect those who provide our food and clothing”, adding, “Fairtrade certification provides a clear, sustainable and effective framework through which to fulfil this obligation.”

Having passed with 42 votes in favour, and only 1 against, the successful motion mandates Magdalen’s Environment and Ethics representative to liaise with the college’s home bursar and senior staff in order to make the college Fairtrade.

The motion also outlines proposals to create an annual Fairtrade subcommittee of the JCR.

This step follows in the wake of 97 other universities, including Oxford Brookes and Cambridge, all of which have become Fairtrade certified, along with Lady Margaret Hall, Linacre and Christ Church colleges.

Mr. Steggles, who tabled Magdalen’s motion, told Cherwell: “Ideally I’d like to see Oxford as a university be more proactive in supporting worthy causes than I feel they are at the moment. Fairtrade measurably improves the lives of people in some of the most impoverished areas and to be able to take a step towards that through Oxford is definitely worthwhile.”

However, there has been some controversy surrounding the campaign. One student speaking to Cherwell, questioned: “Why Fairtrade? I support the Rainforest Alliance. All I care about is having a world for us to live in.”

Other students felt they would prefer to align themselves with a charity more efficient than Fairtrade.

This comes after last year’s contentious news that Cadbury was abandoning its Fairtrade certification in favour of its parent company’s in-house fair trade scheme, Cocoa Life.

Speaking in Oxford Town Hall last month however, Chief Executive of the Fairtrade Foundation, Michael Gidney, offered support for Cadbury’s Cocoa Life Scheme, and concentrated on the wider vision he held for Fairtrade’s future, especially the role played by Fairtrade colleges, schools and communities.

OUSU, in its 2016/2017 policy, committed to supporting Fairtrade, said: “The Vice President for Charities and Communities will campaign for increased Fairtrade consumption within the university departments and colleges.”

OUSU also hopes to convince the University to assign a Fairtrade officer to oversee Fairtrade at Oxford.

The Fairtrade Foundation claims that it helps over 1.65 million farmers and workers across 74 countries. This includes giving the cooperatives a premium to invest back into the community through such means as education and improved technology.

Review: STOP

Amaris Proctor
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Review: STOP

In a production which spoke loudest in its low key moments, I was struck by something quite rare in student drama—a lack of pretension. The thought of watching a  piece of new student writing—a musical, no less—that presents a chronologically disordered narrative exploring mental illness left me rather frightened that I would have to sit through an overly inventive piece, or one that mimicked an overwrought Hollywood incarnation of depression.

There is nothing more irksome than a depiction of suicidal thinking in the tone of Effy from Skins, all romantic melodrama and no reality. This piece, in complete opposition, was crafted by Annabel Mutale Reed and Leo Munby to have an admirable everyday humanity and frankness to it, as its four mentally ill characters find themselves stuck in the most mundane location: a London bus stop.

The characterisation in the first half is the musical’s fiercest aspect, with delightfully idiosyncratic and detailed performances by Kathy Peacock, Annabel Mutale Reed, Jack Trzcinski, and Eoghan McNelis. They managed to catch hold of some of the embarrassment, awkwardness, and the outright sorrow of mental illness which is not grand, but mundane, snivelling and raw. Reed gives a particularly excellent performance, with her brisk, ‘I’ve got my shit together’ verbal patterns perfectly toned.

The set and score maintain simplicity which allows storytelling to take centre stage. The Burton Taylor studio is used well: the conventionality of the seating imposing some sense of order, pleasantly resisting the amateur urge to go a bit madly experimental. The bus stop, only lightly touched by the hand of musical theatre, remains unobtrusive and familiar to any Londoner.

The map of bus routes in the background provides a subtle nod to the motif of connections, both human and neurological, without being too heavy handed. Even the inflammatory name ‘TRUMP’, scratched into the plastic post, fades easily into the distance, just another anxiety in a story thick with them.

Ultimately, it’s refreshing to see a production so immune to gimmicks. It’s almost as if it realises that it is conceptually strong enough in manifesting mental illness as a physical space, as something tangible and immobilising, when so often we hear it’s all in people’s heads, that it doesn’t have to work too hard. Tonal shifts are left to lighting, conveying both warmth and distress. The music, too, doesn’t try to be too avant-garde. Although occasionally abruptly silenced by a percussion instrument, for the most part it complements rather than overshadows the exposition of the plot.

If I had one critique of the piece, it would be that the latter half could occasionally feel weighed down by the emphasis on its message, which lessened the authentic emotional punch. However, conceptually, it’s very good. It offers up a spool of various threads that get tugged at throughout the piece in a fascinating and satisfying way.

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