Pembroke Street Lent 2017 Issue 1 by Pembroke Street

Pembroke College, Cambridge Pembroke College, Cambridge

Pembroke College, Cambridge

Issue 1 - Lent 2017 Issue 1 - Lent 2017

Issue 1 - Lent 2017

Thanks to…

Contents meet the team

features Lord Chris Smith: “Cynicism is the enemy of progress”

by Charlotte Araya Moreland

First of all, thank you to Lord Chris Smith for agreeing to be interviewed by a clueless first-year and answering my questions so graciously. Thank you to Sophie Quinn, Quintin Langley-Coleman, Virginia Gresham-Jacobs, Ella Woodward and Matt Harrison for their submissions; to Ellie Howcroft and Patrick Wernham for having Dísa and me on The Vulture Show in early February; to Emma Neville and Jacob Brockmann for allowing us to snoop around their bedrooms; to Milly Parry for organising the launch event; to Oliver Hulme, Mrinank Sharma, and the rest of the JPC for being so helpful; and finally thank you to all of the lovely Pembroke Street team who have worked so hard and put Saystressing hello toand theappalling people bringing PembrokeforStreet up with my disorganisation the to past five weeks.

VIPembroke

by Dísa Greaves

PCWAFC: Cuppers Victors by Bélen Bale

comment The Price of an Education

you ...

Charlotte Araya Moreland Charlotte is a first February year historian and Editor-in-Chief Editor, 2017 of Pembroke Street. Send any questions, submissions, complaints or hate-mail to her at jp-publications@ pem.cam.ac.uk or via Facebook. You can also troll her on Twitter @charlotte_araya.

Aran is a first year engineer and our Creative Director. He makes no secret of the fact that he’s a wannabe arts

by Sophie Quinn

From the Bubble to the Real World

meet the team

Aran Macfarlane

by Bélen Bale

Emily Fish

A question of sport…of a slightly different kind by Quintin Langley-Coleman

20 22

Emily is a first year English student on our editorial An American Wednesday 24 team, and has been making a splash on the theatre

by Virginia Gresham-Jacobs scene. She is Assistant Director of The Deep Blue Se

on atat Fitzpatrick Hall, Queens’ College in week 4. Image and Reality Pembroke 28

by Oscar Ridout

creative A Modern Day Fairytale…

Dísa Greavesby Ella Woodward and Matt Harrison

launchDísa, partyour blogger, is a first year Land Economist. She

30 38

is half Icelandic, and lived in Brussels for the past 14 years. She will be regularly updating the Pembroke Street blog and is also on the editorial team.

Tasha May

Facebook @pembrokestreet - Twitter @pembroke_street - Instagram @pembrokestreet

Tasha is a first year English student. As well being 3. ou in-house photographer, she will be reviewing all thing food-related and helping out on the editorial team. Yo

Contents meet the team

features Lord Chris Smith: “Cynicism is the enemy of progress”

by Charlotte Araya Moreland

VIPembroke

by Dísa Greaves

PCWAFC: Cuppers Victors by Bélen Bale

comment The Price of an Education

10 14

by Sophie Quinn

From the Bubble to the Real World by Bélen Bale

A question of sport…of a slightly different kind by Quintin Langley-Coleman

An American Wednesday

by Virginia Gresham-Jacobs

Image and Reality at Pembroke by Oscar Ridout

creative A Modern Day Fairytale…

20 22 24 28 30

by Ella Woodward and Matt Harrison

Facebook @pembrokestreet - Twitter @pembroke_street - Instagram @pembrokestreet

Aran Macfarlane

Charlotte is a first year historian and Editor-in-Chief of Pembroke Street. Send any questions, submissions, complaints to engineer her at jp-publications@ Aranor ishate-mail a first year and our Creative Director. pem.cam.ac.uk or no viasecret Facebook. You can also troll her He makes of the fact that he’s a wannabe arts on Twitter @charlotte_araya. student but “just loves maths too much!” Keep your eyes peeled around college for his denim dungarees.

Meet the Team meet the team people Say hello to the peopleMeet bringingthe Pembroke Streetbringing to you ... you Pembroke Street…

Aran Macfarlane

Phoebe Flatau

Dísa, our blogger, is a first year Land Economist. She is half Icelandic, and lived in Brussels for the past 14 years. She will be regularly updating the Pembroke Street blog and is also on the editorial team.

Tasha May

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Phoebe Flatau Emily Fish

Say hello to the people bringing Pembroke Str

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meet the team Charlotte Araya Moreland

Say hello to the people bringing Pembroke Street to you...

Phoebe Flatau Emily Bale Fish Aran Macfarlane Belén Phoebe describes herself as “not a very funny person,” Emily is a firstCreative year English student on our and is our Assistant Director. She is aeditorial first “Pembroke’s answer to Shakira: aon she-wolf completely Araya Moreland team, and has been aa splash the theatre “Pembroke’s answer Shakira: she-wolf yearCharlotte architect *edgy* andtomaking is related to Pocahontas

Aran is a first year engineer and our Creative Director. He makes no secret of the fact that he’s a wannabe arts student but “just loves maths toothe much!” Keep your out of closet whose hips don’t lie.” In Blue reality, scene. She is Assistant Director of The Deep Sea,Bel is a completely out of the closet whose hips don’t lie.” *edgier*. eyes peeled around college his onfor at Fitzpatrick Hall, historian Queens’ College in week 4. the Pemfirst year who is on Charlotte isdenim aanthropology-enthusiast firstdungarees. year and Editor-in-Chief

In reality, Bel is a first year anthropology-enthusiast

Belén BaleDísa Greaves

of Pembroke Street. Send any questions, broke Street editorial team. who is on the Pembroke Street editorial team. submissions, complaints or hate-mail to her at jp-publications@ pem.cam.ac.uk or via Facebook. You can also troll her on Twitter @charlotte_araya.

Phoebe Flatau

Phoebe describes herself as “not a very funny person,” and is our Assistant Creative Director. She is a first “Pembroke’s answer to Shakira: a she-wolf completely Dísa, ourLand blogger, is a first year Dísa, our blogger, is a first year Economist. SheLand Economist. She year architect *edgy* and is related to Pocahontas out of the closet whose hips don’t lie.” In reality, Bel is ina is half Icelandic, and lived in Brussels for the past 14 is half-Icelandic, and lived Brussels for the past 14 *edgier*.

Aran Macfarlane

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Aran is a first year engineer and our Creative Director. He makes no secret of the fact that he’s a wannabe arts student but “just loves maths too much!” Keep your “Pembroke’s answer to Shakira: a she-wolf completely eyes peeled around college for his denim dungarees. out of the closet whose hips don’t lie.” In reality, Bel is a

Belén Bale

Tasha May

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4 4.

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Phoebe Flatau

Phoebe describes herself as “not a very funny person,” and is our Assistant Creative Director. She is a first year architect *edgy* and is related to Pocahontas

Dísa Greaves Belén Bale

Lizzy O’Brien

Tasha May

Aran Macfarlane

Oscar Ridou

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Dísa Greaves

Street blog and is also on the editorial team.

Lizzy O’Brien

Oscar Ridout Phoebe Flatau

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Tasha May

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Belén Bale

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Lizzy is a second year chemist to hips don’t lie.” In reality, Bel is a out ofwho the “once closethad whose year anthropology-enthusiast who is on the Pemleave an art session early,first having drunk too much broke wine beforehand.” We hope LizzyStreet will takeeditorial her role team. as illustrator of Pembroke Street more seriously.

Lizzy O’Brien

Lizzy is a second year chemist who “once had to leave an art session early, having drunk too much wine beforehand.” We hope Lizzy will take her role as illustra-

Aran Macfarlane

Meet the Team meet the team people Say hello to the peopleMeet bringingthe Pembroke Streetbringing to you ... you Pembroke Street…

Aran Macfarlane

Phoebe Flatau

Tasha May

meet the te

Phoebe Flatau Emily Fish

Say hello to the people bringing Pembroke Str

meet the team Charlotte Araya Moreland

Say hello to the people bringing Pembroke Street to you...

In reality, Bel is a first year anthropology-enthusiast

Belén BaleDísa Greaves

Phoebe Flatau

Aran Macfarlane

Belén Bale

Tasha May

first year anthropology-enthusiast who is on the PemTasha is a first year English student. As well being broke Street editorial team. Tasha is a first year English student. As well being our

4 4.

Phoebe Flatau

Phoebe describes herself as “not a very funny person,” and is our Assistant Creative Director. She is a first year architect *edgy* and is related to Pocahontas

Dísa Greaves Belén Bale

Lizzy O’Brien

Tasha May

Aran Macfarlane

Oscar Ridou

Dísa Greaves

Street blog and is also on the editorial team.

Lizzy O’Brien

Oscar Ridout Phoebe Flatau

Tasha May

in-house photographer, she will be reviewing al

Oscar Ridout food-related and helping out on the editorial te

can find her latest Trough verdict on the Pembr

Belén Bale

Lizzy O’Brien

Lizzy is a second year chemist who “once had to leave an art session early, having drunk too much wine beforehand.” We hope Lizzy will take her role as illustra-

Lord Chris Smith:

‘Cynicism is the enemy of progress’ by Charlotte Araya Moreland Culture Secretary in the Blair government, member of the House of Lords, and Chair of the Art Fund, the career of Lord Chris Smith paints an interesting picture. Now in his second year as Master of Pembroke College, he talks about his student days, political career, and hopes for the future. If it had existed in the Cambridge of the 1970s, Lord Chris Smith undoubtedly would have made the BNOC Top Ten list. Succeeding Ariana Huffington (founder of The Huffington Post) as president of the Cambridge Union Society in Michaelmas 1972, Smith moved among the circles of those set to become prominent figures in British public life. Was it was a golden age of Cantabs? Jeremy Paxman was the editor of Varsity and Charles Clarke (Home Secretary 2004-6) was president of the Students’ Union. Lord Smith tells us all of this with the ever-so-slight raising of an eyebrow. “There were big figures around and the newspapers were always poking fun at the Union, and a bit at the Students’ Union. But it was all taken in good heart, and it will ever be thus.” I ask him if student rivalries aren’t simply self-indulgent. “Probably, yes. But what’s student life for if it’s not from time to time a bit selfindulgent?”

Sitting in the Master’s office, in the company of the man himself, I am conscious of the subtle yet profound impact this man has had on the country. As Secretary for Culture, Media and Sport in the New Labour government from 1997-2001, Smith secured free entry to all national museums and galleries for the public. His 1998 book Creative Britain may have been met with a mixed reception, but he went on to assume a number of prominent roles in the creative sector, including chair of the Donmar Warehouse theatre, board member of the National Theatre and is now chair of The Art Fund. I ask him how a public with such a stingy mentality towards government spending can be reconciled with the idea that supporting the arts is important. “Supporting the arts and artistic activity is worth doing at any time, whether it’s a period of austerity or a period of plenty. The arts are enormously important for all of our lives: they tell us our stories, they explain our lives, they challenge us, they show us joy and sorrow, they take us to places that we couldn’t imagine going to otherwise.” The seasoned politician begins to emerge as he continues, “We need the support of private individuals. We always have, we always will. The need now is probably greater than it has been for many years.” I briefly touch upon the theme of the May Ball as ‘Biennale’ but get only a wry smile in response.

photo by Tasha May

“The arts are enormously important for all of our lives: they tell us our stories, they explain our lives, they challenge us, they show us joy and sorrow, they take us to places that we couldn’t imagine going to otherwise.”

Lord Chris Smith:

photo by Tasha May

“Cynicism means that you will never achieve anything radical, anything progressive, anything that moves things in the right direction and I would plead with you to avoid cynicism as much as you possibly can” We move on to discussing the politics of hope. “We are now living through a period of real despair. The combination of Brexit on this side of the Atlantic - coupled, I would add, with the implosion of the Labour party - and the ascent of Trump on the other side. All the forebodings we have about what may happen in Europe, in Holland, in France and in Germany over the course of the next year… This is not a time of great hope, it’s a time of real despair.” For a Labour man of the Blair years, this view is understandable. He describes the atmosphere after the 1997 election. “I can remember being in the car that took me into Buckingham Palace for the ceremony of appointment as a cabinet minister. There were crowds at the gates of the palace, cheering as all the

new ministers went in to kiss hands with the Queen. There was a real sense of excitement, and for days people on the Underground were sort of involuntarily smiling at each other.” It seems a far cry from the world today, almost twenty years later. “Now of course none of that will ever last and the business of government is always to find the best way of accommodating ideals to reality. I think it was Mario Cuomo who once said ‘We campaign in poetry, we govern in prose.” And the government is always going to be less exciting, less fervent, less happy-making than campaigning and winning.” Nevertheless, Smith mentions with pride some of the achievements of the New Labour government. The Good Friday Agreement

and the National Minimum Wage Act both in 1998, a number of policies marking progress in LGBT equality, and of course his own department’s achievement of making all national museums and galleries free. Times are different now. He acknowledges this, saying, “I fear we are now in a real down-time politically, and in terms of public mood.” I put it to him that my generation, the children of the New Labour government, have never really known the hope for the future that Smith describes. As young people, we may not suffer from disillusionment, but many of us are turning cynical. After a pause, Smith says, “Cynicism is the enemy of progress. I was very lucky in that I was a teenager in the 1960s and it was a time when everything seemed to be changing. There was a huge amount of hope and a fundamental optimism about what could be achieved politically. “I think we rediscovered a little bit of that optimism here in the UK in 1997. I think we rediscovered it a bit in America with the election of Obama in 2008. Now it’s gone into reverse. Cynicism means that you will never achieve anything radical, anything progressive, anything that moves things in the right direction and I would plead with you to avoid cynicism as much as you possibly can. “However hard times seem to be, however daft and evil Trump may seem to be, however awful the consequences of Brexit may be, however rampant the hatred, xenophobia, and racism across the world seems to be… It is only by standing up against that and saying, ‘there is something different and we can make a stand,’ that we will actually begin to roll it back.”

photo by Charlotte Araya Moreland

illustration by Phoebe Flatau

We return to Smith’s days as a student. He attributes great value to his time at Pembroke in the seventies, and is clearly aware of the privilege of his position now. “It’s one of the most enjoyable jobs I’ve ever done. That’s because I’m surrounded by highly intelligent people - and by young people who are at the outset of their lives.” I ask him how he would like to be remembered when people look up at his portrait hanging in the Hall. He chuckles, and says “I hope people would say that I was someone who brought the college together as a community, and even more than it ever was in the past.” •

Charlotte is a first year historian and the editor of the magazine

photo by Charlotte Araya Moreland

illustration by Phoebe Flatau

Charlotte is a first year historian and the editor of the magazine

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V I PEMBROKE :

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Ted Hughes Dísa Greaves explores where Ted Hughes lived in his days at Pembroke and talks to the students currently in the poet’s old residence. Pembroke is our home, and as much as we like to complain about the myth of the central heating and the thin walls, we’ve all made those four walls our own. So have hundreds of other students before us, complete with 3am breakdowns in the very same rooms. Including our own VIP Valencians. Ted Hughes spent his third year in E1 after changing to Archaeology and Anthropology from English. The room is quite the hidden gem, located right down the end of E staircase above the Old Library. At the time, it was one large set, but it’s since been split into two separate rooms, inhabited now by fresher HSPS student Jacob Brockmann and third year Philosophy of Science student, Emma Neville.

Emma Neville, resident of Ted Hughes’ room in Old Court photos by Tasha May

On the left-hand side is E1b. The door has a coat-hook hanging off the front - the first sign that a bedroom was not its intended purpose. The room is very cosy, with just enough space to move between the furniture, but not quite enough to open the drawers behind the bed at the same time as the door. But what the room lacks in square footage, it makes up for with

illustrations by Lizzy O’Brien

the charming view over Old Court towards the chapel, perhaps a place of inspiration for Ted Hughes (or perhaps not, seeing as it was his cupboard...) At the end of the corridor is the main room which Ted must have used as his bedroom. It’s arguably the best room in the whole of Pembroke, tucked away into the corner of Trumpington Street and Pembroke Street. The most noticeable thing, especially after visiting E1b first, is the sheer size of the room, as well as its striking beauty. Throughout the room is a dark wood antique theme, with roof beams crossing the room and a ornate wooden fireplace behind the bed. Emma, the current resident of this scholar’s room, knows some of its secrets. There’s a removable part of the beam, and inside are objects that previous students have hidden.

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V I PEMBROKE :

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Emma Neville, resident of Ted Hughes’ room in Old Court photos by Tasha May

illustrations by Lizzy O’Brien

“Emma’s take on the room is what can only be described as some sort of fairy-tale forest, what with the dark wood furniture and plethora of plants scattered around.” Among other items is a piece of paper reading, “I am Ted Hughes” - though it’s uncertain that the red felt tip note really was scribbled by our former Poet Laureate... From a little research, it seems that Ted’s choice of décor was mainly an accumulation of road signs from around Cambridge. This was much to the dismay of his tutor, who refused to give him a reference after graduating, not that it hurt his prospects all that much. In E1b, Jacob doesn’t have much room for décor and is a selfdescribed minimalist. Nevertheless, he

shows his patriotism with a full-sized Australian flag and cricket bat in full view. Emma’s take on the room is what can only be described as some sort of fairytale forest, what with the dark wood furniture and plethora of plants scattered around. It seems very fitting with the natural and mythical themes of the former resident’s poetry. While sharing a room with Ted Hughes is quite special in itself, I asked Jacob and Emma who they wished had lived in their room. Jacob quick-wittedly replied with “Harry Potter”, an apt choice given the similarity of their living

Jacob Brockmann, resident of Ted Hughes’ cupboard

quarters. Emma said Gloria Steinem, the American feminist, for the inspiration to work harder - although we’re not sure much more work is required for someone who achieved a First as a NatSci! One massive perk of the rooms is location, location, location. It’s basically right on top of Trough - the location of dreams for most of us central college students, who are by nature inherently lazy. A friend of Ted’s wrote of a culinary mishap he once had involving a landlady’s frying pan and a black pudding. A nod to the lack of opportunities for learning any life skills in the shelter of the Cambridge bubble? Perhaps less has changed for

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the sadly neglected gyp in the past 60 years than we might realise. •

Dísa Greaves is a first year Land Economy student. She is the Pembroke Street blogger.

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Jacob Brockmann, resident of Ted Hughes’ cupboard

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the sadly neglected gyp in the past 60 years than we might realise. •

Dísa Greaves is a first year Land Economy student. She is the Pembroke Street blogger.

13.

PCWAFC :

Cuppers Victors Belén Bale reflects on the value of team sport in the light of PCWAFC’s Cuppers win Before coming to Pembroke, I hadn’t played football since the age of 7. This was not without reason, as during a match against a neighbouring primary school I had taken out three of their team by tripping over my feet, had cried when anyone tried to tackle me, and had almost broken my nose on the goalpost. Scarred by this experience, I promised never to play football again, no matter how fun Bend it like Beckham made it seem. Yet somehow, here I am in goal for Pembroke Women’s team: 5’ 3”, in shorts far too big for me, and ever so slightly shit. When I went to the first training session October, still disgustingly hungover from bop and in yoga leggings, I was prepared for something chilled and gentle something to reassure my mum about when she phoned asking if I was being a ‘responsible and healthy individual’. Instead, I found myself running around in a bib, shouting names at random because I still wasn’t sure who everyone was, and desperately attempting to dribble - but it was the most chill I’d felt all week.

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Phoebe Flatau, wing, Amy Arnell, wing, and Bélen Bale, defence

In the mess of Cambridge, everyone is always saying how important it is to relax. When you have three essays due on the same day, this can feel impossible. But training with the team gives you so much perspective. Even in the high stress of a match, you lose yourself in what you’re doing. Cheesy as it may be, playing football has helped me so much in the art of not caring, which I find so empowering. It gives you confidence. The kind of aggressive confidence that makes you want to ask questions in supervisions, go

Hannah Short, mid, and Gaia Laidler, defence

‘The kind of aggressive confidence that makes you kind of want to ask questions in supervisions, go for a role on the JPC, get a quesadilla instead of cheesy chips at the Van of Life, and generally just smash the patriarchy.’

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PCWAFC :

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Phoebe Flatau, wing, Amy Arnell, wing, and Bélen Bale, defence

Hannah Short, mid, and Gaia Laidler, defence

15.

16.

for a role on the JPC, get a quesadilla instead of cheesy chips at the Van of Life, and generally just smash the patriarchy.

move on (but you better move on quickly otherwise Katie might just kill you).

It’s also an incredibly supportive environment. As fresher Tasha says, “I love the sociability of the team. Everyone is so lovely and super-encouraging, no matter what skills (or in my case, lack thereof) you may bring.” Even if you never quite master the basic skill of passing the ball with the side of your foot, you still feel valued. Seeing us win the Cuppers semi-final against Tit Hall was tense to say the least, but the amount of support and love there was amazing. If you missed a pass or messed up on goal, you could just laugh and

For me, that solidarity is what makes us win. We are unapologetically feminist about our team, never forgetting that women’s sport is not as widely televised as men’s. Playing with women who don’t care about the stereotypes of what is or isn’t a traditionally male sport is liberating and encouraging. When I drunkenly asked Gaia in Lola’s what it felt like to be a part of PCWAFC, she looked at me said “Bel, I turn myself on.” And honestly, this made perfect sense. •

Bélen Bale is a first year HSPS student and on our editorial team

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for a role on the JPC, get a quesadilla instead of cheesy chips at the Van of Life, and generally just smash the patriarchy.

move on (but you better move on quickly otherwise Katie might just kill you).

Bélen Bale is a first year HSPS student and on our editorial team

18.

The Price of an

Education

Sophie Quinn explores the motivation behind choosing a degree If it isn’t too painful, try to cast your mind back to the Cambridge application process. You’ll find your flash-backs haunted by the words ‘passion’, ‘fascination’ and ‘intellectual stimulation’. This idea - that Cambridge is for the true nerds who just love their subject - was drilled relentlessly into all of us. And coughing up £9,000 a year for the privilege of a place here? A worthy price to pay. Inspiring and romantic as this notion is, it is cultivated by the lost generations of adults who who could go to university for free. Upon leaving, they could confidently expect to get a job and comfortably live alone. There’s nothing baby boomers love more than referring to millennials as lazy and

indulged, but they never felt the palpable terror of needing to support themselves in a dire economy. Apparently there’s no Cyber Monday on tuition fees, making the daily prospect of getting hit by a bike on Trumpington Street slightly less terrifying when considering that the damages you could sue for would lessen your student debt. And so you wrote in your personal statement, ‘from a young age, I have always been interested in…’ No, you haven’t. You decided to do Law three months before applying because it was the closest thing to the philosophical and ethical issues you think you might actually have that elusive feeling which people call ‘passion’ for - while not completely ruling out the prospect of ever having a job. Not to mention wanting to put off making big life decisions for

photo by Aran Macfarlane

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The Price of an

Education

Sophie Quinn explores the motivation behind choosing a degree If it isn’t too painful, try to cast your mind back to the Cambridge application process. You’ll find your flash-backs haunted by the words ‘passion’, ‘fascination’ and ‘intellectual stimulation’. This idea - that Cambridge is for the true nerds who just love their subject was drilled relentlessly into all of us. And coughing up £9,000 a year for the privilege of a place here? A worthy price to pay. Inspiring and romantic as this notion is, it is cultivated by the lost generations of adults who who could go to university for free. Upon leaving, they could confidently expect to get a job and comfortably live alone. There’s nothing baby boomers love more than referring to millennials as lazy and indulged,

but they never felt the palpable terror of needing to support themselves in a dire economy. Apparently there’s no Cyber Monday on tuition fees, making the daily prospect of getting hit by a bike on Trumpington Street slightly less terrifying when considering the that damages you could sue for would lessen your student debt. And so you wrote in your personal statement, ‘from a young age, I have always been interested in…’ No, you haven’t. You decided to do Law three months before applying because it was the closest thing to the philosophical and ethical issues you think you might actually have that elusive feeling which people call ‘passion’ for - while not completely ruling out the prospect of ever having a job. Not to mention wanting to put off making big life decisions for

photo by Aran Macfarlane

another three years - hopefully studying a subject with a profession attached to it would do the trick. Arts students, it seems, are the most courageous of the bunch. Being greeted with articles from The Tab about poor employment and earning prospects compared to Medicine or Engineering every time they check Facebook probably doesn’t give them the needed motivation to get that further reading done. But you go to Cambridge, you’re smart and you most likely will be successful...yet The Fear that you’re wasting your time and money on an overindulgent academic degree is constantly there. This can be bewildering for us. Since we were little (and the economic Armageddon of 2008 hadn’t quite hit), we were told, “do what makes you happy,” and, “you can do anything you set your mind to.” Except a History of Art degree. Don’t do that. However, the notion that arts and humanities students are to be congratulated for following their Dead Poets Society dreams is debatable. There is an element of privilege attached to studying an arts degree. The less fortunate face the anxiety of being unable to support themselves and having no one else to fall back on, while the more fortunate lack this attitudinal barrier. Having parents who accept and support whatever decision you make is often taken for granted. Not everyone has those perfectly middle-class parents who take their children to art galleries and discuss Sartre over the dinner table. Disproportionately small numbers of lowincome students enrol in arts and humanities courses, especially in universities not so well-off as Cambridge. From personal experience, knowing what it is like to struggle financially was a significant factor in choosing a course that is favourable to employment.

But worry not. I do actually like, dare say love, my course. Yet this is by no means the case for every student. Following your passion is easier said than done; if your passion is dentistry, you’ve lucked out - but teeth don’t do it for everyone. What ‘follow your dreams’ advocates sometimes fails to realise is that university, for many, is an investment. That’s not to say that you shouldn’t study what you love - if you are lucky enough to have found such a thing - but rather that students who go with their head over their heart and choose a ‘practical’ degree cannot be blamed for doing so. Finding your passion is difficult enough, and having the opportunity to pursue it should not be taken for granted. • Sophie Quinn is a first year lawyer

illustration by Phoebe Flatau

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From the Bubble

to the Real World

Women’s March in London, I had a true moment of clarity. We’d taken great pride in painting it ourselves, with a big bottle of black paint from W.H.Smith, and felt like young soul rebels (two edgy queers against the patriarchy and other pretentious shit like that). But sitting there, waiting for the paint to dry, we watched Trump’s inauguration speech. Seeing him being sworn in, I just felt like crying. Being edgy is all well and good, but what good does it do in the world of Donald Trump? So there me and Oscar were, hungover from Friday Life, me in last night’s flares, and my coat covered in orange juice from trying to down it and missing whilst running for the bus, marching with 100,000 people through London. Hand-in-hand with each other, chanting about powerful women and unity, I lost any sense of edgy individuality - in the best and most liberating way possible. So caught up were we with the atmosphere that we barely talked, except to point out the ‘Free Melania’ signs. You’d turn around and see toddlers on their parent’s shoulders clinging to mini cereal box signs, middle-aged women in pink pussy hats, and an overwhelming amount of young people with speakers and whistles yelling, “power to the people!”

Belén Bale shares her experience of solidarity whilst on the Women’s March in London The best thing about being a Cambridge student - or actually being a student anywhere - is the way you can open yourself up to political and intellectual discussion while intoxicated. The whole thing is a complete and beautiful mess. One day you’re basically a 14 year old, unable to hold your drink, while your friend Meg holds back your hair as you vom in a bush outside Robinson. The

next day, you and Meg are discussing Jeremy Corbyn being a useless leader of the Labour party, and how you both regret voting for him. Truth be told, I find it invigorating (if a little pretentious) that now is the only time where this can happen - and be accepted as totally normal. But however much my friends and I believe ourselves to be Left af as we sip tea in the Pembroke café, talking about intersectionality, it’s easy to forget that things are actually getting serious in the real world. Whilst making our banner for the

London virtually stopped for that afternoon. The buzz continued beyond the march. For hours after, Trafalgar Square and the surround-ing cafes were brimming with protestors, carrying the atmosphere well into the evening. Pulling out of the King’s Cross on the last train back to Cambridge, I was reluctant to leave behind the London I had experienced that day. Like Oscar said, “there was just a different feeling in London that day.” It made you forget the essay crisis you’d left in a pile back at Pem more effectively than any night of VKs and Cindies ever could. The Cambridge bubble makes it so easy to get caught up in things that turn out to be wholly insignificant - especially when you’re being ranted at by mad Scottish women about Mike Pence. Marches like these, and the recent one in Cambridge protesting Trump’s Muslim ban, show you just how much people care about the world they live in - and they express this with more passion than any essay could show. So get angry and bite some fascists before you lose your naïve idealism and settle down in Richmond with your comfy 2:1. You’ll never be be this young again. • Bélen Bale is a first year HSPS student and on our editorial team

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From the Bubble

to the Real World

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A question of sport …

of a slightly different kind

Quintin Langely-Coleman recounts a joyous experience of zorb football

“But blindness never checked great sportsmen in the past, so we flung ourselves in with due rigour and gung-ho enthusiasm and charged the enemy.”

It was the summer at the end of my first year the ever inimitable Shad Hoshyar had organised an afternoon of zorb football. For those who are unfamiliar with the term, zorb football is a game played with all the same rules as normal football, but each player runs around enveloped in a vast, inflated, plastic bubble. You end up looking like a squishy Christmas ornament with legs. Alas, little did I realise that something so soft in description could in practice be so scuffing. Leading to this fated summer day, Shad, in his entrepreneurial way, had talked of zorbing with some friends, and after spying a Groupon offer created the Zorb Football Society. This secured us GAC funding, so the price we had to pay to play this exotic sport was substantially mollified, about a tenner or so. So, ten of us ruthless mavericks gathered on Pembroke Fields. We did not know what to expect (or at least, I didn’t know what to expect). The grass was green, the sky azure, and the sun shining and hot. The zorbs were inflated, and we climbed into them, easing their plastic bodies over ours with squeaky gracelessness. There were handles inside, and holding onto them felt holding a SWAT battering ram. Some of us threw ourselves at the ground to test the bounciness of the zorbs. Then the game began. Here I think it’s worthwhile to point out a trend in the history of sports. For sports that are full contact, there has been a trend that, in order to stop people from getting hurt, padding has

been added. Where boxing acquired boxing gloves, American football acquired helmets and shoulder pads; and as a result more, not fewer, injuries were recorded. This is because when you think you can hit harder without hurting yourself, you will. Alas, zorbing turned out much the same. We lined up, five-a-side, barely making out the other players through the transparent plastic in front of our faces. But blindness never checked great sportsmen in the past, so we flung ourselves in with due rigour and gung-ho enthusiasm and charged the enemy. The first collisions were brutal. Think billiards and Vikings. Think moons crashing into planets. Think young men in plastic bubbles careering into other young men in plastic bubbles. In our pursuit of fun we had forgotten that we were, in fact, mortal, and we crashed into each other with screaming delight. A few new records for wingless human flight were set, and a pandemonium of scraped knees ensued. We calmed down a little after those initial minutes, and our tactics changed from simply ramming people to spinning and clipping them. However, an uncomfortable reality reared its head. Not only did the zorbs have poor visibility (it being possible to see clearly only when looking out of the top hole – a manoeuvre that required an awkward leaning forwards to point the hole to anything worth seeing); they also had poor ventilation. This made the insides a humid, plastic sauna – the air choked with moisture of breath and sweat. Thus, when it was half time, we extracted ourselves from our zorbs and relaxed in the cool wind. We enjoyed a few minutes outside our sauna chambers before heading back into the game for the second half. The game went much as before: flying collisions; scraped knees; abounding laughter. Then suddenly it ended, long before we had had our fill. The zorbs were deflated, their caretaker left, and we walked home exhausted and glad, our appetites whet for new sporting adventures. • Quintin Langley-Coleman is a 3rd year studying Arabic

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A question of sport …

of a slightly different kind

Quintin Langely-Coleman recounts a joyous experience of zorb football

“But blindness never checked great sportsmen in the past, so we flung ourselves in with due rigour and gung-ho enthusiasm and charged the enemy.”

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An American

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Wednesday As an American studying on exchange at Pembroke for the next two terms, I am slowly adjusting to life in Cambridge. I expected my time here to be rather easy—the UK is just America with accents and rain, right? Unfortunately, in the past three weeks I’ve been here, I’ve experienced more culture shock than you’d think. Almost everything is basically the same but then a little different; and that little difference is deceiving— often leaving me thinking I am much better off than I really am. From how I have to adjust my way of learning, to what time I need to eat or grocery shop, or whether it’s an aubergine or an eggplant, throughout any given day I have a running reel of commentary always reminding me just how American I am. Here is the average day of me living life and being confused:

4:47 AM: Finish my first essay of term with only 4 hours to spare. This will serve as precedent for the rest of the term. Each week the Cambridge supervision system and lack of contact hours will inevitably fail to persuade me to actually complete work more than 2 days ahead of deadlines. Normally for me, essays occur only several times a 14-week semester. Having only a week to read for, determine and develop a topic for, and actually write a single essay is a bit of a challenge. I have been trying to apply my normal strategy— thinking about the essay minimally daily over a multi-week period—with little success. The result has been very little essay preparation followed by a two day week of panic at the realisation that once again, the American way is pretty much the wrong way.

5:17 AM: Send essay in an email to my supervisor with an accompanying paragraph in which I attempt to apologise for the essay’s lacklustre quality. 9:00 AM: Re-awake and try to plan the day ahead. As it turns out, I have no lectures and nothing to do except read in preparation for my next essay. My days would normally be filled with several hours of mandatory lectures and classes, followed by studying and work due the following day. I am at an absolute loss as what or how to be productive for 12+ straight hours with no structure. Illustration by Oliver Hulme

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An American

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26. 11:07 AM: After a few hours of half-sleep, texting American friends (at 4 or 5 in the morning, they are likely still studying in our 24/7 library), I resolve to actually go out and enjoy the day. 11:42 AM: I step out the front door of the hostel and immediately realise my mistake. The skies are grey and small droplets ruin my expectation of a nice, sunny English day. It’s unbelievable to me that Seasonal Affective Disorder isn’t more of a thing here. With only 8 or so hours of cloudy daylight, I’m nearly always confused as to what time it is, let alone what day of the week. I also find myself poorly dressed all the time—some days a coat is too much, other days a skirt too little, most days I alternate between sweating through layers and shivering in the wind. I’m actually not sure why a semi-intelligent person like myself cannot seem to grasp dressing for weather as a concept.

12:03 PM: Walk with much confusion to

Fitzbillies. Order a scone and try to choose the right coins to pay both quickly and gracefully.

Despite being one of the earliest skills mastered as a child, I struggle greatly with the task of walking in Cambridge. Nobody seems to be able to tell me with confidence on what side of the sidewalk to walk on. Nobody seems to agree and I tend alternate between left and right reasonably confused. I have never also, despite living in New York, been around so many tourists on a regular basis. Cambridge manages to be both sleepy & quaint and crowded & busy. It’s an odd combination that I have a hard time likening to anything yet encountered in the States. Walking has, no joke, become one of my greatest sources of confusion. And, as I average three or four miles a day, I spend most of my time at a loss.

12:54 PM: Check my pidge (!) for mail, stroll over to the Pembroke library and sadly realise I must toss my fresh coffee in the bin outside.

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My favourite British-isms include the ‘pidge’ and the presence & witty repartee of the porters. Major dislikes include my inability to sip coffee in the library.

7:12 PM: After an unproductive day in the library, I return to my hostel and try to interpret ‘smart dress’. I then walk back to college, gown in one hand, bottle of wine in the other. It amazes me that formal hall both expects the height of fancy dress and etiquette, yet allows and invites its students to drink an entire bottle of wine. Classy debauchery as tradition is kind of amazing.

7:45 PM: Spend the first two courses guarding my glass from wandering pennies. 8:12 PM: Attempt to subtly pose for a photo while the waiters prepare to serve dessert. Unfortunately cringe in horror as the flash fires, and hide at the shame of so disturbing the hallowed Pembroke hall. Formal hall has been my favourite part of Cambridge life so far. Despite happening nearly every night, it feels like such a special occasion and so uniquely Cambridge. Even so, despite all my efforts, not even formal hall goes as seamlessly as I planned. Like nearly everything else, it’s so new and it’s so different; inevitably I don’t quite get it right, and am left with some slightly embarrassing memories.

9:07 PM: Leave formal, be persuaded toward the JP, and finally toward Cindies. The day ends as they often do, in the JP or the like, with a G&T in hand. Thankfully, this doesn’t feel quite so new and quite so different. After a long day of being unsure, Pembroke is still a remarkably easy place to be as I slowly, hopefully get a little less confused.) •

Virginia Gresham-Jacobs is a third year English student on an exchange from Barnard College, New York

12:03 PM: Walk with much confusion to

Fitzbillies. Order a scone and try to choose the right coins to pay both quickly and gracefully.

12:54 PM: Check my pidge (!) for mail, stroll over to the Pembroke library and sadly realise I must toss my fresh coffee in the bin outside.

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My favourite British-isms include the ‘pidge’ and the presence & witty repartee of the porters. Major dislikes include my inability to sip coffee in the library.

Virginia Gresham-Jacobs is a third year English student on an exchange from Barnard College, New York

Image and Reality at Pembroke

The first of Oscar Ridout’s guide to the best spots to Instagram in college Pembroke is an undeniably beautiful college. With its open, rambling layout, architectural variety and abundant verdure, it offers the aestheticallyinclined student (read: me) endless opportunity for creative expression (read: vain quests for validation through likes, combined with procrastination.) In this column I’ll be evaluating those little corners of college that make for quality content (and double-tap endorphins.)

For an extra touch of excitement, some lucky people have the opportunity to frame the tower in their window. As well as demonstrating their prime locations (questionably) in Red Building or Old Court, this gives the clear impression of a studious type – “I sit at my desk doing my work with the watchful eye of the library clock maintaining my focus”. See Phoebe Flatau (@phoebeflatau) for this. It also serves the purpose of reminding the rest of college that Red Building exists. Alternatively, viewed at a distance as in my (@oscarrid0ut) window pic, the tower becomes just a part of the backdrop – much as it is in my life, as evidenced also by the achingly busy to-do list on my whiteboard.

No. 1 The Library Tower Perfect for maintaining that studious façade without even having to go into the library, a well-composed shot of Waterhouse’s monumental clocktower is a sure- fire hit. A classic angle would be one from beside chapel, to capture the angular ornamentation and the play of sunlight across the building – see Wallis Power (@ wallis_p_) and Aran Macfarlane (@aran__macfarlane) for inspiration! These two images also evidence the variety of lighting conditions (or filters) which can give very different auras to the image.

Finally, a rogue entry from Megan Thomson (@megancthomson) with her end-on view, which is a surprising hit with me. The sunlight gives warmth to the image, and the whole building seems far less intimidating viewed from its short side, with the amenable lawns of Red Building in the foreground softening the composition. Waterhouse’s grand library may be more important to some of us than to others, but it’s a vital part of any Pembroke Instagrammer’s online persona. • Oscar Ridout is a first year musician and Pembroke Street’s Instagrammer

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Image and Reality at Pembroke

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A Modern Day Fairytale … Matt and I worked around the theme of two traditional legends for these photoshoots – the Lady of Shalott and Tamlane. On a basic level, both stories feature elite women who have fallen in love. As such, we selected luxurious clothing for our models and aimed for a romantic atmosphere in all our images. For the Lady of Shalott shoot, we decided to put a contemporary twist on the myth by photographing our model in a punt on the river Cam. We also ‘drowned’ her in glamour. For Tamlane, we used candles, alongside the light of the setting sun, to introduce a sense of mysticism to our setting. The deep reflective green of our model’s outfit was chosen with the flickering of candles on a grassy bank in mind.

Ella Woodward and Matt Harrison are 3rd year Valencians studying History and Computer Science

Matt and I worked around the theme of two traditional legends for these photoshoots – the Lady of Shalott and Tamlane. On a basic level, both stories feature elite women who have fallen in love. As such, we selected luxurious clothing for our models and aimed for a romantic atmosphere in all our images. For the Lady of Shalott shoot, we decided to put a contemporary twist on the myth

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photographing our model in a punt on the river Cam. We also ‘drowned’ her in glamour. For Tamlane, we used candles, alongside the light of the setting sun, to introduce a sense of mysticism to our setting. The deep reflective green of our model’s outfit was chosen with the flickering of candles on a grassy bank in mind.

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She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror crack'd from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott. â&#x20AC;&#x201D; Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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Janet has kilted her green kirtle   A little above her knee,   And she has braided her yellow hair   A little above her brow,   And she is to her father's house,   As fast as she can go. Four and twenty ladies fair   Were playing at the ball,   And out then came the fair Janet,   The flower among them all. Four and twenty ladies fair   Were playing at the chess,   And out then came the fair Janet,   As green as any glass. — translated by Steffen Mallory

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