Editorial My first ‘Pembroke Street’ is also the first of a brand new decade. Yes, the ‘teenies’ are upon us, ushered in by an icy blast of artic weather that left the whole nation crying out for global warming and chased by an election battle that is already plagued by ‘silliness’. It may only be the second week of January but already the year is unfurling its wings ready to fly by. So it's just as well that in the following pages you can scour Alex Piletska’s article for advice on making Valentine’s Day a success and mine Jon Gregory’s “How to Hitchhike” piece for top travelling tips ready for the summer! For those of you who would rather not think about romance or racing time, I’d advise you to turn to p.21 to puzzle over Pembroke Street’s all new procrastination-aid or to take a look at how Pembroke Players intend to distract you from your work in the coming weeks on p.11. But these are not the only gems to be found in this issue and I hope you enjoy browsing through it. One of the objectives that I declared when I stood for Publications Officer was to encourage people with little or no experience of writing or journalism to use Pembroke as a starting block, an opportunity to gain experience. Although I'm very grateful to the old-timers who continue to grace the pages of this publication with their compositions, I'm really glad that some of the contributers to this issue are indeed new to writing and I'd like to encourage anyone else who's remotely interested to get involved. You can send me a contribution at any time, about anything, and I'll keep it ready for the next issue. Best wishes for Lent term, Holly Story 1
Contents A Curious Case of Contagious Arts
April Cashin-Garbutt on the lure of History and Philosophy of Science
How to Hitchhike
Jon Gregory recommends an unpredictable travel experience
Clear goes Crazy for Hamlet
Sam Clear reviews the BBC film of Gregory Doran's Hamlet
Valentine's Day: Where to Eat?
Alex Piletska explores possible locations for a Valentine's dinner date
PEMBROKE SOCIETIES AND SPORTS Pembroke Players Present
A round up of productions past and future
The 1347 Committee in 2010 Pembroke College Badminton Club Time to get you P.A.P.S. out...!
A report from Pembroke Art and Photography Soceity
POEMS AND PUZZLES Pembroke Street A short story by Greg Buchanan
Poetry Crossword
3 4 7 9 11 13 14 15 17 19 21 2
A Curious Case of Contagious Arts! History and Philosophy... of science I am a scientist, well a student of natural science anyway. So the art of history and philosophy are hardly what you would expect me to be learning about. My Natsci friends fear I have turned to the dark side - am I really becoming an arts student? I’m sure writing this article won’t do anything for my case. Who ever heard of scientists... writing?! Symptoms: Lectures at 5pm, only 3 days of the working week (yes I have Saturdays to do as I please). I am no longer to be found in the lab in a stiff white lab coat – it never did complement my outfit. The library has now become my second home, although I’m still rather reluctant to declare that. Prognosis: Despite the culture shock I feel I am coping rather well, dare I say I am enjoying my new semi-arts student lifestyle! The topic is fascinating too. I even feel that it would perhaps be of benefit to many scientists to know a little about the history and the philosophy of their subject. Although doctors may fear this opinion shows the severity of my condition and demonstrates its highly contagious nature. April Cashin-Garbutt
FACTFILE: Claude Muhuza (JPC President)
New Year's Resolution: Make more time for my friends and family. Famous person I'd like to meet: Nelson Mandela. 3 Likes:' Mad Men' (the TV show), mafia game, playing basketball. 3 Dislikes: 9 a.m. lectures, application forms, snow. A sight I'd like to see: Victoria Harbour in Hong Kong Happiest memory from my time at Pembroke: May Week
3
How to Hitchhike Last summer, to take a break from my relentless schedule of watching ITV 2, I went on holiday. I decided to travel on the backs of the kindness of strangers, i.e. by hitchhiking. It took me two months and 53 rides to travel from London to Krakov then to the south of France to meet some friends. A recurring theme was people who did not pick up hitchhikers because they never got the opportunity. It seems a bit sad that so many chances for a motorist to collect a bit of karma are wasted by people taking trains, buses and aeroplanes. I'd like to share some advice and experiences in the hope that you might be convinced to try hitchhiking. Is it dangerous? It's important to quickly make it clear that the myth about hitchhiking being dangerous is just a myth. There is no more risk than for any other way of getting around. Arguably you’re more in control of what happens to you as you can chose who you accept a ride from. It's important to remember there is no obligation to take a ride just because someone’s stopped for you if you think they look dodgy just make up a polite excuse. In two months I didn't have a single unpleasant incident. That's not to say there are no awkward moments. I once had a truck driver describe his encounters with Liverpudlian prostitutes in broken English. It wouldn't have been so bad only the encounters took place on the bed in the cab of his truck…which I was sitting on. Plus points There are two main advantages to hitchhiking. The first is your carbon footprint is effectively zero, all the cars you travel in would be burning fuel without you, you’re just riding on existing momentum. The second, and most important to me, is that you avoid the sensation of a country being neatly packaged for you. An average European backpacker will arrive at a train station, where everyone is used to tourists, go to a hostel, where everyone is a tourist, than trout around the tourist part of town which ceased to function as a real place a century ago and is now primarily an outlet for overpriced sandwiches and souvenir figurines. As a hitchhiker you’re more likely to find yourself being enthusiastically interrogated about your life at 4
home by someone who rarely meets English people or chatting to a member of the Skoda fan club who is incredibly keen to give you an authentic experience of "a genuine communist car!" You may find yourself engaged in pretty mundane tasks with locals but somehow they seem exciting. I got a lift to Zurich with an Israeli-Swiss man who stopped at Ikea to get me to help him pick up some shelves. This would be a chore at home but something about the language barrier, the distance from home and the way we had met made it seem like an adventure. Maybe I'm still just happy because he brought me a hotdog but I think there's more to it than that. Little experiences like this make me feel like true altruism does exist or that the world is a richly varied place. Whereas the tourist trail makes me think everywhere looks the same, feels the same and has the same purpose: to make money. Enough Socialist hyperbole and on to some practical advice… The mechanics of hitching a lift might seem a bit daunting at first but luckily there is an on-line hitchers bible called ‘hitchwiki’. ‘Hitchwiki’ gives advice on pretty much everything from packing lists to handy foreign language phrases. Its most useful function is listing good spots to get lifts from in most major European towns and cities and telling you how to get to them on public transport. Hitching a lift at a random point in an urban environment is impossible, there are too many people not going very far in every direction imaginable. An ideal spot is a large service station just outside the city, sometimes you have to jump a fence to get in on foot but there's no risk as the employee's will be used to hitchhikers if the station is mentioned on ‘hitchwiki’. There's a large service station west of Berlin that you get into through a fire door covered in graffiti thumbs and good luck messages to fellow hitchers. Incidentally hitchhiking is completely legal anywhere pedestrians are allowed, so everywhere except on the motorway itself(on and off ramps and service stations are fine). I only have two gripes 5
about ‘hitchwiki’. Firstly it recommends standing with a sign and your thumb out all the time. A far more effective method if you have the opportunity (for example at a service station) is to just go up to people and ask for a ride. Secondly it doesn't make the importance of number plates clear. EU cars have a letter on their number plate indicating what country they where brought in. This can be a good indicator someone is heading in your direction. Apart from this ‘Hitchwiki’ is brilliant. If my article gets edited down to two words they should be: “read hitchwiki”! The road less travelled... If you're in a more adventurous mood leaving the motorways behind and taking the scenic route (thumb and sign required) can be a much more rewarding experience. I went jet skiing, kayaking and scuba diving on my last holiday but they all felt artificial compared to the thrill of getting a ride at two in the morning on a incredibly foggy road with a chain smoking Frenchman who was completely unperturbed by the ninety degree turns springing in to view twenty metres away. I arrived at my destination late at night and had to sleep in a hedge but it was worth it. A final note Despite all this, hitching is often shit. It’s very unpredictable so take a tent and try to avoid tight deadlines. Avoid those little parking areas and toll stations on motorways as if angry electrified badgers where running wild in them. I made the mistake of accepting a lift to a toll station in a confusing mesh of roads surrounding Lyon and spent the next two days being ferried from toll station to toll station by well meaning but clueless hippies. At night I had to pitch the tent round the back of a toilet block and try to sleep within twenty metres of a roaring truck lane. Nice. I could go on about the bizarre hand Interesting stuff to look at: gestures drivers make or why people in the http://squat.net/ Czech republic found it impossible to stop http://hitchwiki.org/en/Main_Page for me but I think its the kind of thing you http://www.couchsurfing.org/ just have to see for yourself. In conclusion, Hokkaido Highway Bluesa book by Will Ferguson I spent 600 quid on a two month holiday, faith in mankind and a tan. Jon Gregory 6
Clear Goes Crazy for Hamlet When I first heard that Gregory Doran’s acclaimed Hamlet had been turned into a film, I was a little apprehensive. Firstly, I am always a little wary of stage shows that attempt the transfer to screen; even those productions that move beyond the deathlydull, camera-in-the-auditorium style of filming tend to feel stilted and forced. Secondly, the prospect of two of the greatest science-fiction characters, Jean-Luc Picard and Doctor Who, facing off in Elsinore sounded like a recipe for disaster. My initial fears were, however, dispelled; this production is intelligent and inventive, bursting at the seams with strong performances and imaginative design, and is, despite being the Shakespearean tragedy in which the fool only makes an appearance as a grinning skull, really rather funny. From the opening scene on the battlements, filmed in long, dark cloisters, lit only by the flashing beams from the characters torches, and underscored by the distant hammering of Claudius’ preparations for war, Doran immerses us in a world of fear and intrigue. The designer, Robert Jones, perfectly captures this sense of claustrophobia; the scenes are set in echoey halls with black polished floors, huge glass chandeliers and vast, fake mirrors. It is a world where everything is not as it seems, a motif demonstrated by Doran’s decision to hide Claudius and Polonius behind these mirrors, and by the giant shattered mirror that dominates the design after Polonius’ death. Doran recognises the benefits camerawork offers and the use of film is masterful. The opening shot, for example, is taken from the perspective of a CCTV camera, watching the action on the battlements, amplifying our sense of the paranoia in court. The close-up shots Doran gives us of whispered exchanges, quiet asides and meaningful glances demonstrates the director’s subtle appreciation of the strengths of this new medium. He also resists the temptation to overuse film; we were mercifully spared any soft-focus shots of Ophelia’s death, Doran instead leaving Shakespeare’s text to do the work for us. Any fears I had that the audience would lose some of their rapport with Hamlet were waylaid - his soliloquies and asides are frequently 7
delivered straight into our eyes, and the decision to have him on occasion speaking monologues directly into a handheld camcorder provides an interesting spin on his state-of-mind. Indeed, David Tennant’s performance is a powerful one. Emerging from this established world of paranoia and claustrophobia, his Hamlet finds himself trapped and alone; his “Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt” was delivered, not in a bluster of passion, but in a hunched ball on the floor, back to the camera. With Tennant, you really got the sense that the appearance of the ghost ironically sparked Hamlet back into life. This is a Hamlet of lightning intelligence and furious wit, a character brimming with nervous energy, always bordering on madness, and one of the funniest I’ve seen. His dismantling of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern is ferocious, and his parodies of the prattling Polonius fast and funny. Rather than the character’s infamous inaction, Tennant chose to draw out the dane’s youthful energy. Yet underneath this capricious and antic exterior lies a Hamlet boiling with filial anger. His inner monologue, filmed as such over the action, while he holds a dagger above the praying Claudius is full of real, sober danger. If anything, I slightly missed Hamlet’s deeper philosophical nature - Tennant’s Hamlet almost "one of the thinks too fast to really put the immense, beautiful funniest I've seen" power into “To be or not to be” - but only slightly. Tennant in no way overshadows the performances of the company, however. Stewart’s Claudius was supremely composed and calculating, a hostile villain who has to be reminded that Hamlet studies at University in Wittenburg; his performance leaks a menacing power. Oliver Ford Davies is brilliant as the pedantic Polonius and Ryan Gage as Osric had me laughing out-loud. Penny Downie well captures Gertrude’s unique position between her warring son and husband; her scene with Tennant in Gertrude’s bedchamber is full of pity for the desolate mother. Mariah Gale’s Ophelia is the best I’ve seen yet; the emotional turmoil evidently ravaged her mind, and her mad-scenes are filled with heartbreaking emotion. Doran chose to have her carrying weeds, thistles and brambles instead of flowers, skin scarred by the cuts from the thorns; typical of a production bristling with simple yet brilliant ideas. This is a stunning realisation of one of Shakespeare’s most poetic works. If you missed it, keep an eye out for the DVD that should inevitably follow! Sam Clear
8
Valentines Day: Where to Eat? My last Valentines Day was spent with my fiancée in a luxurious French restaurant in Leicester. I wore a black evening dress as I graciously accepted my bouquet of red roses, climbing aboard an Arriva bus into town. It was extravagant romance on a student budget. The food was rich and absolutely drowning in butter, as French cuisine tends to be and quite rightly. Not being able to afford the Sancerre, we opted for its cheaper cousin, the house Sauvignon Blanc. Dinner was followed by champagne and romantic sex. Throw in an open fire and it could be a scene in a Mills and Boon novel. It was a well-composed selection of clichés, in a way that only Valentines Day is allowed to be. And that’s the beauty of the day: it’s the one day of the year where you can indulge in all things red, presents, flowers and cards addressed to ‘The One I Love’. We’re not together anymore, but not for the lack of commercialised romance that every relationship needs. If you are lucky enough to have a special someone to spend the day with, for God’s sake, "more cheesy than buy them those flowers, make an effort with your an Edwinns triple appearance and take them out for that meal. Take baked cheese advantage of being young and in love; after all, soufflé" you might one year find yourself spending the day searching for just the right cat food that says ‘I love you’. The fact that Clinton’s sells at least one Valentines card, to my knowledge, addressed to pets makes this a very real possibility. There are many restaurants in Cambridge to choose from. Bridge Street now boasts not one but three French restaurants, which seems excessive but the truth is they offer pretty much the same menu, so it’s a convenient location to pop next door when they run out of saffron. The better of the three is definitely the newcomer which replaced Edwinns: Côte, even if its superiority to the runner-ups is based on the slightly better décor, slightly better customer service and the slightly more interesting menu. They will almost certainly offer a set Valentines menu, but failing that, opt for the Poulet Breton. After all, nothing says love like a dish which originates from a region famous for its elaborately carved crucifixion scenes: simply nothing says ‘I’m willing to die for you’ more. Christian iconography aside, the restaurant offers a romantic atmosphere, good service and well-cooked food 9
at an affordable price. If you want to impress your date with somewhere slightly less wellknown, opt for Le Gros Franck, situated on Hills Road near the station. By night this café turns into a respectable restaurant, if slightly nautical-themed, offering a very indulgent set menu with Above: Bridge Street the option of substituting courses with á la carte options such as foie gras and venison stew. If eating at a French restaurant on the Valentines day is more cheesy than an Edwinns triple-baked cheese soufflé – not so much a pun as a tribute to a much-missed giant – try the gastronomic pub The Punter, budget allowing. It isn’t cheap, but for a menu featuring goose breast, moules mariniere and apple tart tatin, this will seem like a small price to pay, especially seeing as taking your date there has been scientifically proved to raise your chances of getting laid by 23% (source unknown). Just avoid the cheese board; although it seems like a tempting option, especially in such a venue, it is rather limited and has a disproportionate distribution of crackers to cheese. If you are forced to eat out on a budget, try Strada. It may be a chain Italian restaurant, but by God, is it the best Italian chain restaurant in Cambridge. Not only do they do the standard pizza and pasta, of exceptional quality too, they also offer a selection of fish and meat dishes, all wellcooked and reasonably priced. For dessert, enjoy a serving of tiramisu while gazing longingly into your lover’s eyes. In truth it doesn’t matter too much where you go, so long as the food is good and you’re with the one you love. Just remember to book in advance as it’s difficult to find somewhere nice last minute and check your date’s dietary requirements in advance: it’s not a good idea to take a vegetarian to the Chop House. Alternatively, you can always stay in and cook. I would like to take this opportunity to refer you back to William Clement’s recipes in last term’s The Cambridge Student. Everyone loves a good cook. This year I will be spending my favourite unnecessary commercial holiday with a new sweetheart. He may or may not live up to my high expectations of exaggerated romance and tacky cards, but when you look that good in a pair of cords that might just not matter. Alex Piletska 10
Sports and Societies Pembroke Players Present...
It is to be hoped that, when those throngs of theatre-hungry thespians piled into the New Cellars for our first ever Fresher’s Information Evening in October, they all came out fairly convinced that the Pembroke Players is a generally smashing sort of a thing. And if they didn’t then hopefully they were persuaded by the end of Michaelmas Term. First on the calendar was the 'Sticky Floor Smoker', a riotously jolly if somewhat epic affair, featuring home-grown sketch comedy from Tom Foxall (and friends) and the Four Yorkshiremen. Later in the term the New Cellars hosted a hilarious 'Twelfth Night', a rather swish production of 'Equus', and finally our Freshers’ Play, directed by Chloe Mashiter: Tom Stoppard’s 'Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead', which deservedly earned nice reviews and enormous audiences. At the Corpus Playroom meanwhile, PP Treasurer Olivia Crellin was making her directorial debut with the four-starred 'Valued Friends'. Christmas at Pembroke, as ever, was ushered in with a raucous dollop of panto, and Jack and his Beanstalk duly provided plenty of dubious innuendo.
Above: Panto cast and crew
11
All credit to the huge group of Freshers who were involved, not least director Ben Pugh and producers David Joseph and Isabella Watney. This coming term promises to be just as exciting. We have a line-up of three plays so far: at the ADC, 'Be My Baby', at the Corpus Playroom, 'Pale Horse' (not to be confused with Equus – anyone hoping for a repeat of full nudity in the New Cellars this term may be disappointed) and in our own New Cellars, 'Quality Street' by J.M Barrie, the play that spawned a brand of chocolates. Luckily it isn’t until Week Seven, by which time you should have all recovered from your multi-kilogram-festive-tin-induced sugar hangovers. A highlight of the term will undoubtedly be the annual Black Tie Smoker, with the usual mix of sterling comedy, champagne and something deemed to be canapés by the catering department. For those who don’t manage to snare tickets to this classy and intimate evening, never fret, as there will also be a charity smoker taking place later in the term. Other things to look forward to in Lent include this year’s committee elections, which should take place around Week 6. Splendid individuals are needed to fill several positions, and absolutely anyone who judges themselves to be such can apply. For more information email our President Claudia on cm551, or have a look at our snazzy new webpage! A note on the panto...
On the 1st December 2009, the Pembroke Freshers Pantomime graced Hall to a packed out audience. This year we told the heartfelt story of “Jack and *His* Beanstalk” *loosely* based on the popular story of similar name. There were a couple of twists ranging from the addition of chocolate loving Stalin, a deadly frozen pizza, a sensational talking cow, and of course the Dean in his traditional role to save the day. Ooh and I nearly forgot, a frighteningly popular crocodile. The play was written, and performed by freshers many of whom had no experience, but evidentially plenty of talent! We would like to thank the Pembroke Players for supporting the production, and the brilliant audience would took audience participation to new heights! David Joseph 12
The 1347 Committee in 2010
Looking for a new year’s resolution? For Lent Term 2010 and beyond the 1347 Committee invites you to get involved with fundraising for the Pembroke African Scholarship Scheme (PASS). The Committee is made up from current undergraduates in college and we are looking for new members and supporters for the New Year. As well as helping the Development Office with events and organising the 1347 Parents Lunch, we put together the Pembroke Mile to raise funds for our chosen college charity. The PASS has existed at Pembroke since the 1970s and supports, as funds become available, scholars from Africa to pursue under- or postgraduate studies in Pembroke. A number ofAfrican students have benefited from this and the hope is that the PASS will be able to support an increasing number in future. The Pembroke Mile, is a race (loosely speaking) in fancy dress from the College sports pitches to college. Last year was a great success and raised several thousand pounds. Entry for this year is only five pounds, which goes towards PASS. Entering will not only get you some great exercise and a warm fuzzy feeling, but a free brunch too! So lookout for the posters, and start thinking of fancy dress ideas. There are prizes for most inspirational. Chris Dobbing The Pembroke College Squash Club
The Pemboke College Squash Club (PCSC) got off the ground during Michaelmas 2009. We fielded two men's teams and a ladies team: a great showing for our first term! Training is always great fun and anyone of any standard is welcome to come along and play. Practices are twice a week in the evenings with matches played once a week by arrangement. Contact Simon Schlachter (ss678) or Kate Cunningham ( kc350) for more information. Simon Schlachter 13
Pembroke College Badminton Club The club continues to go from strength to strength, with Michaelmas proving to be no exception. The club had a very good intake of freshers, many of whom ended up playing for the club’s three teams in the intercollege leagues. The Women’s Team, despite being newcomers to the first division and various injury problems, managed to win half their matches, ensuring a place in the first division for Lent. The First Men’s Team played in the second division after a poor performance in Lent last year. However, the team did not let this faze them and went on to win the division, finishing off with a 9-0 victory over Peterhouse I. This means that the club will have teams in the top divisions of both the inter-college leagues in Lent, something that few colleges can boast. The Second Men’s Team, despite a rather shaky start, came through in the end, coming in the middle of the fifth division. This performance is particularly promising for the future of the club, considering that many unbloodied freshers played for the team. Finally, social badminton on a Saturday morning remained well attended throughout the term. Well done to everybody that played during Michaelmas. Bring on Lent! Calum Kinloch (Men's Captain)
Right: Members of the Badminton Club in action.
14
Time to get your P.A.P.S. out...!
The visual arts scene is lacking in Pembroke. Meeting Okay, the organised arts scene is slack in Wednesday Pembroke. Possibly because of the immediate boredom that planned fun promises? Maybe 14th because art sounds like it takes a l.o.n.g time 5:00 p.m. (watching paint dry...you know the metaphor)? Art Room (H Perhaps even because P.A.P.S (Pembroke Art and Staircase) Photography Soceity) promised you so much at Just a fresher’s fair but has delivered so little..? Nah, quickie. not that one. Outrageous PAPS... One of the many events put on by PAPS last term was a film screening of a young Mister Rowson’s work, entitled “King of Deptford Creek”. There were some unfortunate occurrences in the lead-up to the screening, including an unseemly altercation with Mr Ken Smith over the overhead projector (a few too many hot-tempered words were spoken by Mr Rowson, but we at PAPS seek to bear with le grand artist) in general though, it was a huge success, a succès énorme, if you will. After a few worrying moments, awkwardly munching on the kindly provided popcorn (that’s PAPS for yougoing the extra mile) the projector was successfully switched on, and the viewing commenced. The film tells of a middle-aged private detective who is hired to find a couple’s missing son, but fails rather miserably to do so. In the process, his marriage breaks up and he finds the boy’s diary, in which he details plans to build a boat and sail down the Thames. While he fails to find the boy, the detective builds a boat and sails down the Thames himself. It is extremely well-shot and makes excellent use of interesting details (such as the London A-Z used as a diary), but the real climax is the appearance of our very own Fred Rowson playing HIS MOTHER’S LIVE-IN LOVER! Scandalous! Taboo-breaking! Outrageous! It’s what PAPS is all about. A fresh young talent discovered... In other PAPS-related news, the life-drawing classes held on Monday nights in Foundress Common Room, taught by Dino, have been going extremely well. So well in fact, that PAPS is proud to report that they have unearthed a
15
remarkable new talent. A completely naive artist, with no previous formal training, it is predicted that ALEX KAITCER will be the next big thing to hit the British art scene in 2010. Alex described the experience of his first class to us, detailing how he was initially disappointed by its prospect, as he was met with “dead silence and a fairly old woman posing”. However, ever passionate about art, he decided to “set up the axle” (it was later found that by this he meant “easel”) and started to draw. He described the experience as being somewhat intimidating at first, due to the number of prodigious, formally-trained artists that the class is host to: “it’s not easy... you’ve got your Henry Rivers, your Louise Longs... even your Jack Rivers- Henry’s brother staying over for the night”. However, the PAPS ingénue persisted with his work, until the class finished and Dino requested that its members lay their work out on the floor. Alex expressed feelings of vague mortification at the prospect, but dutifully complied. After making a thorough survey of the room’s offerings, Dino (an impressive Italian artist in his own right) lighted upon Alex’s exquisitely naive work, and asked, “Who drew this?” At this point, Alex described that “the whole class, aware of his inexperience, burst out laughing”. Dino, utterly confused by such a response to such talent asked “Why is everyone laughing? I think it’s very fresh”. Still, Alex, ever modest, remains somewhat bemused by the response that his work Two members of PAPS’ happy band.... just look at the fine invites, generously application of blue paint- who WOULDN’T be inspired to thanking Dino for his use the art-room in h staircase’s basement?? (Keys available from the Plodge). support: “He really dressed my drawings up very nicely. He put a quality slant on them”, and pledging his attendance at every class to come. You can get involved anytime Email ZB215.
Emily Hockley and Zoe Bye
16
Pembroke Street by Greg Buchanan Four thin smears slid across the sky. A man with shaggy blonde hair approached me. He said, as we were almost close enough to hold hands, he said “Can you spare any change?” And then a rhyme, and then I heard from somewhere behind me a little plea that had the texture of a sandwich full of glass and gravel: “I’m sorry.” There was the river Cam, an agony of light. I could see bridges and trees and colleges, all waiting and waning. I walked down King’s Parade. Someone was crying against the wall. The grass seemed to glow with fervent emerald winks to all those that paced along its side. One man stood in front of the Corpus clock, staring at the golden Chronophage. I thought of my dad. I had not seen it happen. He had been hit by a car – I had been able to talk to him afterward, but he died that final night. He had fallen like a whisper. He had told me that his girlfriend had been beside him when he awoke, and had just started at him, and had left. I did not know why he had felt the need to tell me this, why he had to share his girlfriend’s woe with his daughter. I imagined that it would be a silent scream. I imagined this and thought of her. I thought of her. Nothing to do about it. I headed back to college. I passed down the street. A car swung by and almost hit me. I could hear wailing cut off, like the ascent of man. I walked through the open gate of Pembroke, and emerged beside the porter’s lodge. Even now I did not walk on the grass. Somewhere there was laughing. Somewhere nearby glass smashed. I think it was in the lovely library. I wondered if someone had decided to die. That luminary clock, it stood against the declining sky. I moved faster now, almost at a jog. I saw many of the fellows all walking towards hall with their gowns fluttering just a little upon their backs, the wind almost imperceptible now, a thousand years departing, all without a word. He was right in front of me. My friend. One of the only ones I would ever have now. It was so strange, to see him then. Anderson. His parents had been killed by a lorry carrying a load of coincidence. Standing there with light brown hair. Smiling. Where were the ducks that walked these stones? 17
The robins that dived and weaved a trail across the bowling green. Where was the cat that dreamt itself a tiger? All gone from sight, like the sky would be – the blue all drained, and only a storm of ashen night above the lifeless road would remain, no longer burning bright. I realised that my friend had always loved me, and that he had never wanted to be friends at all. Anderson opened his mouth to speak but I left. I reached Foundress court, and as I did I saw someone sleeping on the path, glass all around them. I punched in the code, and left up the stairs. Higher and higher I ascended, lonely scholars passing by me in both directions. I ran down the hall, and the fire alarm began. There was smoke from somewhere a way off. I got to the door, and opened it. I went inside. I walked past the bed and picked up the phone. I dialled the number. There was no answer. I tried again, and again. And then there was knocking at my door. Anderson. “Let me in,” he said. His voice grew more panicked, gnawing like a famine. He might have been crying. I watched the door but the knocking did not stop. He tried to knock down the door I imagine but it stood firm. But that didn’t happen, truth be told. Truth be told Anderson was not in love with me. Truth be told I had not met him on the path nor had he knocked upon my door and cried out my name; the truth was that Anderson might not even exist yet. The truth was that perhaps I had been in love with someone else or that I did not exist. I sat down on the bed. I lay my head back, hair askew, and after a few moments, the phone began to vibrate. I threw it open and pressed green. “I love you,” she said. My name fell dying across a cloud of smoke. Her voice felt dead, as it had felt as she had sat by my father when I had come to the hospital that day. She had told me things would be alright. The only mother I would ever have, and she was not even mine. Fire outside the door, like a whisper. An ancient echo. A prelude. A few moments breathing. “I love you.” I said nothing. “Pray,” she said, she was crying. “Pray.” Why would she then cry? Neither of us said anything after that, we just held the phones to our faces. It was the culmination. Then the line went dead. I did not exist. 18
Poetry The Creatives You have held the skylark slurs captivated round a lighthouse finger, have seared the song on a barb of hangnail, have thought the wheel spokes to go ways other than round, have mocked them, belittled them, cast them- to the sodden shine of evening gravel- down. We ponderously picked the sloes from their blackthorn tresses, then the conkers from their webbed finger canopies- noting- how the shells slid from seeds- or had to be beaten- brown like old fruit under heels, sneering, when the seed was too white, too feeble, too innocent for this ageing stubble of soil. They wear trenchcoats in spring, summer, autumn, and become like brambles in winter: a cartilage of stems, limbs- a rootstock that remains invincible through the concrete on concrete colliding- new building- and shards of rain puncture my hands with epaulette scars... They write of the seasons smeared on the bumpers of cars. I have drunk this with a measure of gin, have watched time whittle the shadows thin, have built a birds wing in a cage of glass, have watched it clatter the salt fresh spring fragrance past- for this sunrise shingled by clods of cloud, moulting sheathes of snowfall softly down... It is all hoar frost falling now. James Coghill 19
Poetry continued... Spring Would that your head was on my breast, And I could hold you close. I would weave a cloak from the clouds for you, And sing a rainbow for you to shelter under. The hay in the field would dance to see you, I would whisper to the trees to shade you, And murmur to the brook to lap past your feet. Yet none of this beauty Would be as sweet As the taste of your soft mouth. Merryn Everitt
Left: Sunset from Whernside, Yorkshire Dales.
20
Crossword
21
Across 1. Liberty (7) 4. Electro-pop duo whose hits include ‘In for the Kill’ (2,4) 6. Freshly (8) 8. Mound (5) 10. Idea (10) 11. Long Walk (4) 13. Incorporate (7) 15. Obvious (5) 17. Competition (5) 20. Welsh poet whose love life became the subject of the film ‘The Edge of Love’ (5,6) 21. French town that plays host to an annual film festival (6) 22. Gemstone (4)
Down 1. Town at the foot of Ben Nevis (4,7) 2. Town in Scotland and a type of cake (6) 3. Unease (7) 4. Deficient (7) 5. Move (8) 7. Enigmatic (7) 9. Film that features Hugh Grant as the Prime Minister (4, 8) 12. Surname of the author of ‘The Satanic Verses’ (7) 14. Home town of Peter Kay (6) 16. A Greek word for love (4) 18. Mountain range in Morocco (5) 19. Architect of Barcelona’s famous church ‘La Sagrada Familia’ (4)
N.B. All articles in this publication reflect the views of the individual who wrote them and not the JPC, the college or the editor.
With thanks to Louise Wallace, April Cashin-Garbutt, Claude Muhuza, Jon Gregory, Sam Clear, Alex Piletska, The Pembroke Players, David Joseph, Chris Dobbing, Calum Kinloch, Emily Hockley, Zoe Bye, Simon Schlachter, Greg Buchanan, James Coghill, Merryn Everitt, Henry Rivers and Clive Story. COVER PHOTOS AND DESIGN: HENRY RIVERS
To comment on anything featured in this edition of Pembroke Street or to contribute to the next one please contact: JP-PUBLICATIONS@PEM.CAM.AC.UK 22