Glasgow University Magazine, Issue 1 - Nostalgia by Glasgow University Magazine

The Nostalgia edition

Issue 01 / Dec 2016

gum GLASGOW UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE

Glasgow University Magazine

Dec 2016

GUM

Issue 1

Editor’s Note

Editor in Chief Alice Lannon Deputy Editor Kirsty Dunlop Online Editors Silvia Sani and Erika Koljonen

Alice Lannon

Events Managers Meg Handley and Kaisa Saarinen Features Editor Clare Patterson Culture Editor Emmi Joensuu

ello, and welcome to Glasgow University Magazine’s first official issue of the term!

This time, we got you to muse on all things ‘Nostalgia’ themed – quite apt for this frosty yet so often rose-tinted month, don’t you think? Approaching the end of the year, 2016 seems to have been overwhelmingly steeped in a longing for things past. Politicians promise to restore their countries to their former ‘glory’ and fashion turns back the clock as we dress to escape the present, whilst we at university now gaze aimlessly out of windows and dream of simpler times when essay deadlines were not so horribly close. Was the past really as good as we remember it? Who knows. Whichever way, we hope you will enjoy this treasure trove of work from our fabulous writers, illustrators and photographers, and maybe even get a little bit wistful yourself.

4 Features Bye-Bye Britain Cities and Nostalgia Portrait of an Author as a Jonas Brother’ s Fan

8 Culture

The Tunes They Are A-Changin’ Reading Nostalgia Eternal Sunshine of the Student Mind

14 Style A Stitch in Time

21 Politics contents

25 Science and Technology Rebooting the Past The Burning Questions

28 Creative Writing Seven Years Four Months, Eleven Days How Awesome was Your Childhood?

As always, we’d love you to get involved with GUM! Meetings are every Thursday at 6pm in the McIntyre building – it would be so fantastic and lovely to see you there. Warmest wishes for this chilly season, Alice Lannon -Editor

Politics Editor Annie Milburn Business Editor Joanna Velikov Science & Technology Editor Dalia Gala Photo Editor Kati Brunk Creative Writing Editors Cortney Lee and Neil Weaving Copy Editor Melissa McNair Graphic Design / Illustration Kamilla Hu-Yang Writers Ryan Neilson Greg Marlborough Amy Shimmin Michael Lawson Anna Ester Šolotová Rachel Walker Pella Ödmann Arianne Crainie Erika Koljonen Ross Laidlaw Charlie Scrimgeour Neil Weaving Dalia Gala Sean McLeod Max McGinn Anthony Daly Kirsty Dunlop

editor’s note

Grassroot Movements of 2016 Making American Great Again : Donald Trump and the Politics of Nostalgia” Corbynism : A Musty Politics of the Past?

Also, this issue sees the launch of our shiny new creative writing section! Flip to the final few pages to check it out. If you’re feeling inspired, you can submit pieces for the next issue, themed ‘Space and Place’, at creativewritingatgum@gmail.com. We also feature creative pieces on any topic on our website, so go wild!

Fashion Editor Niamh Carey

Cover illustration Sophia Rowan Illustrators / Photographers Kristyna Steflova Kati Brunk Verity Pease Eunjoo Lee Imogen Whiteley

Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

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GUM

Bye-Bye Britain Ryan Neilson berates Brexit

‘Keep calm and carry on.’ Words which have personally never seemed less comforting than they do now. As an individual who selected my current degree nearly solely on the prospects of one day having a job within European Law, the recent outcome to the European Union Election is slightly depressing. And now, in a country ready to leave, where national pride seems to be thriving, I have never been less proud to be British. So the question I want to ask is this: why do people feel the need to revert back to the Britain of yesteryear? Why are they unable to accept the new, evolved Britain, and in my opinion, a better Britain? Don’t berate me because I’m not patriotic- I still like Britain. However, right now I am situated in an intermediate frustration, the anger you feel when a little child is making a decision; you know they have no sound logic, and will just choose the flashier option, the one that makes more noise. But you have to sit there. And you have to watch that child ruin their future, and everyone else’s too. In reality I feel that is what this referendum was. It was meant to be an intellectual debate, and after having just gone through the Scottish referendum we know what that should look like – a measured look at the pros and cons of an independent Britain. But in the end, it just turned into a show. On one side you had all the political characters throwing patriotism in our faces, making up facts left, right and centre, and on the other you seemed to have a bunch of passionless individuals. I can understand in this case why they choose the bright lollipop over the chocolate bar; the lollipop was made to seem way more attractive.

In the end though, none of this mattered. The referendum was held, the result was as it is, and it seems 52% of us voted with our very British hearts. And now we sit here, in limbo, waiting for it to happen. The effects are already being felt; hate crimes are soaring, people in power are condemning immigrants. These people who are part of Britain are now being made to seem unwelcome in a country that they call their home. We also wait for the imminent Scottish referendum, as Britain potentially begins to tear itself apart. It seems that these people who fought to go back to some ‘golden era’ have just created a harsh, backward-looking nation, seen as archaic in its views. Somewhere no one will want to go. And without that constant flow of new immigrants bringing diverse cultures, varied minds, unique abilities, what will our country become? All I know is the Britain I knew is gone, and if this is what the patriots really wanted, congratulations. Because it’s what you got, for all of us.

Don’t berate me because I’m not patriotic - I still like Britain.

We also wait for the imminent Scottish referendum, as Britain potentially begins to tear itself apart.

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The anti-EU side’s arguments all seemed to boil down to one of two kinds: half were simply erroneous lies, while the others tugged on the patriotic bone we all have somewhere in our body. And it is the latter I want to focus on. Throughout the campaigning period we were constantly told that we had to reclaim Britain; that it was the immigrants from the EU who were ruining our country; that the rules placed by the EU were oppressing us, preventing us from being the best we could be. We were told we could be better without the EU. None of these claims came with any sensible or logical backing – but they were said loud and proud throughout the campaign.

over our own affairs. But the real question is, why didn’t people just vote in EU elections? In the most recent, and likely last, European Parliament election in the UK, just over a third of the electorate turned up to vote. For people claiming they want their opinions heard, it seems they just didn’t care. Had people actually turned up and voted, I could understand them complaining about what was happening with the EU. But as most of them didn’t, can they really reserve the right to complain?

The fact people were so willing to disregard all the great things the EU has done for us goes to show how powerful the sway of patriotism was. The pro-leave individuals were apparently striking the right notes, and their confused and uninformed views were being heard – they were able to hush the benefits of the EU single market and the cultural diversity that immigration has brought us. People soon became obsessed with this idea of sovereignty, of regaining control illustration: Katy Brunk

GUM

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Nostalgia and The City Greg Marlborough takes a stroll through a landscape of memory

Another aspect of city life which enhances a feeling of nostalgia is the history which surrounds it. I will refer to Edinburgh again, as an example. The city is well known for its old buildings, many of which have been left standing from various eras in time, such as the Middle Ages and the early modern period. The preservation of these gothic and medieval structures Firstly, I would like to discuss what A visitor can take a walk through the and histories seems to have rubbed defines a city and explore the sites beige stone walls and ornate interiors that off on many individuals over the which inform its character and bind the halls, chambers and passageways, years, particularly aspiring writers identity; they range from shops, and easily transform themselves into a monand tour operators who have made cafés, bars, to clubs and tourist sites arch or knight in a gothic novel or film. stories and attractions off the back which draw people in from various of it. For example, a visit to the areas, whether you are a local, a commuter or a tourist. Cities have so much to offer, and this Edinburgh Dungeon can reinforce nostalgia from within has the potential to evoke feelings of nostalgia stemming people; historical practices such as cannibalism, dissections, from freedom of opportunity. The cluster of universities, grave robbing and torture can send shivers down your spine, colleges, offices, councils, shopping centres, bars, restaurants, whilst simultaneously arousing curiosity and playing on your services, flats and houses can allow an individual to become imagination. Another site in Edinburgh which evokes that inspired and develop a sense of themselves and their relations imaginative quality is Edinburgh Castle, which towers over to others living around them. The possibility of the future, the city. A visitor can take a walk through the beige stone combined with past memories, can make the walk through walls and ornate interiors that bind the halls, chambers and passageways, and easily transform themselves into a monarch the city a very stimulating experience. or knight in a gothic novel or film. hy do cities evoke feelings of nostalgia? With reference to my hometown, Edinburgh, I will try to answer this question - what is it about the essence of an urban setting which brings out a sublime feeling from one who is captivated by its surroundings?

Another reason why cities may awaken a feeling of nostalgia is that they remind us of the positive memories of our favourite film or TV show. We cannot help but identify with characters, plotlines, tone and atmosphere, all which take place in the large metropolis that houses the narrative. New York City is a prime example of this nostalgic experience, as it has played backdrop to countless movies that we’ve all seen on the big screen. Whether you are watching action, romance, comedy or drama, you become immersed in the setting which surrounds the film – it’s nostalgic in the sense that we make a connection between the physical urban landscape and the feelings aroused from seeing it on screen. For many of us it is our roots in city life that creates personal nostalgia. Speaking from the perspective of someone raised in urban surroundings, these are settings that lodge the houses we grew up in; the schools we attended; the places we worked; the social activities we participated in; and our family and friends. Therefore, when we leave that all behind and move on to other ventures such as university, college, or

employment, we can become nostalgic for the city we grew up in. Even more nostalgic is the experience of returning to that hometown for a visit, when the memories of growing up are stronger than our present life. When looking at it all in retrospect, it reminds us how far we’ve travelled in life, how far we’ve come. A city can evoke a feeling of nostalgia for many reasons. It is more than a physical backdrop: it offers up an atmosphere, which is similar to that which we experience when watching films. Cities also connect us to the past, preserving the memories of our childhood and reminding us that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. Even more nostalgic is the experience of returning to that hometown for a visit, when the memories of growing up are stronger than our present life.

painting: Imogen Whiteley background: Kamilla H. Y.

Glasgow University Magazine

Dec 2016

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A Portrait of the Author as a Jonas-Brothers Fan Amy Shimmin discusses the nostalgia of fan-girl friendships

hen you’re on the precipice of becoming a teenager, it’s obligatory to fall into some sort of category. I don’t make the rules here. Almost all my friends had at least dabbled in an emo phase – exaggerated side-fringe, excessive eye liner, Friday nights spent ogling over boys at the local skate park – yet I missed the boat. Maybe it was because I was too much a goody-two-shoes to ever feel like I needed to rebel; it was probably, also, because I had a strict curfew. So instead, I spent a good three years of my life infatuated with a wholesome Disney pop group: I was obsessed with the Jonas Brothers.

not, been that we are both retired teenage fangirls. At events, with a group of friends from home, we would chat to people of all ages and backgrounds as we waited in queues just to catch a glimpse. I have Facebook friends from all over the world for the sole reason that we were in the same place, on the same afternoon, waiting to see the same three American men. Thanks to the Jonas Brothers, I learnt how wonderful it feels to belong. Also, thanks to the Jonas Brothers, I had a pretty shoddy taste in music until I was about seventeen. We live and we learn. It made me happy at the time, and that’s all that matters.

When I say obsessed, I wish I were exaggerating. I can only One of my fondest memories from my Jonas days is from the apologise to my mum for the amount of her money I spent, and first, and only, concert I got to go to. I went with two friends: for how the happenings of a band became entwined with the one I haven’t spoken to for two years, the other who has also already precarious emotional state of a teenage girl. There was a moved on from squeaky-clean pop. We were at the arena point when an entire wall of my bedroom was covered in their at least ten hours before the doors even opened, and some faces. I would stay up until ridiculous security guards gave us passes to see hours on school nights to watch It brought young girls together, instead the band’s sound check before the live stream chats, where they would of pitting us against each other. gig. We ran, screaming hysterically, answer fans’ questions until the early through a passageway, like we’d just hours. I even met Nick – twice, in fact been given a winning lottery ticket. – when I was fourteen. I was a fully paid-up member of the Friendships sour and people drift apart but together, we shared Jonas Brothers’ online fan club. At one point, I had ‘Jonas’ as my five minutes of pure happiness. Of course, anyone will tell you middle name on Facebook, just in case nobody knew that I had that there’s nothing healthy about happiness being attached to a thing for them. If something had happened in the world of something – four years later, the Jonas Brothers would cease Disney, and you thought you were filling me in on a new story, to make music as a band. It’s what we picked up in that time, I probably knew three months before. Thanks for thinking though, that matters. Any interest in your formative years will of me, though. Teenage fandom is one of the most bizarre, teach you lessons beyond any classroom. impossible-to-understand movements you’ll ever experience: that’s coming from someone who has lived through it. Maybe you don’t like the Jonas Brothers, or One Direction, or the current boyband du jour. I’m not forcing you to like It’s easy to think that there’s nothing beyond a teenage their music – far from it. But, at the very least, appreciate the subculture, especially when it involves something as trivial as a happiness they can, and do, bring to an excitable young girl, as boy band. Yet, in my experience at least, it brought young girls she navigates the weirdest time of her life. together, instead of pitting us against each other. We spend so much time being told that someone is always our competition. I didn’t consciously think this at thirteen, but teenage girls uniting . over a common factor is a huge middle finger to everyone who actively wants us to be at each other’s throats. Even today, I can’t pretend I don’t love being surrounded by people with whom I share a common interest. There’s nothing like being at a gig with people there for the same reason as you, or meeting people who have the same niche hobby that you might have – for me, that niche interest has, more often than

illustration: Verity Pease

background: Kamilla H. Y.

features

Any interest in your formative years will teach you lessons beyond any classroom.

Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

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GUM

The Tunes They Are A-Changin’ Michael Lawson questions who is really out of key

‘They don’t make ‘em like they used to.’ A phrase used by pretty much every generation from the beginning of time to imply that the music they grew up listening to is superior to that of more recent times. Be it the Summer of Love generation of the ‘60s, the anti-establishment punk rockers of the ‘70s, or the synthesizer-driven new wave of the ‘80s, ageing music lovers don’t hold back when it comes to lambasting the state of modern music and reflecting on the supposed glory days with wistful nostalgia. But why has modern music caused such an outpour of criticism from generations gone by? Is it really as bland, unoriginal and awful as many would have you believe? Much of the criticism has stemmed from the sampling culture that is omnipresent in contemporary music, with many questioning the purity of music that is effectively based around plagiarism.

Another criticism of modern music stems from the fact that the vast majority is made on computers and with high-tech equipment, as opposed to traditional instruments. The concept of making music through this medium perplexes many, particularly those with a more conservative mindset, and has drawn similar criticisms to sampling. Again, this should be viewed as a positive development; it allows music to be created through the realm of technology, creating sounds physically possible through instruments. A number of ageing famous musicians have voiced their distaste towards the direction in which modern music is moving, perhaps most notably punk icon Iggy Pop. Footage taken backstage at a French festival reveals him releasing

Another critic from the punk scene is former Black Flag frontman Henry Rollins who asked during a show, ‘Which came first? The shitty rave music or the drugs?’, while the Foo Fighters’ lead singer Dave Grohl was also critical of technology in music during his Grammy acceptance speech in 2012. Grohl told the crowd that ‘rather than using all of the fanciest computers that money can buy, we made this one in my garage with some microphones and a tape machine’ and that ‘singing into a microphone and learning to do your craft, that’s the most important thing for people to do’. He was presumably taking a swipe at electronic artists such as Skrillex and Deadmau5 who also received nominations that year. Like sampling, technological advances in music ought to be approached with an open mind and viewed as a vehicle for creativity. The views expressed by ageing white rock musicians such as Grohl and Rollins is more representative of the ignorance of an antiquated industry than a true reflection on the state of music in 2016. Ironically, these artists who at one time appeared edgy and rebellious now symbolise the establishment they so fervently rallied against in their heyday. It’s natural for us to look back on our best years, and the music surrounding them, with rose-tinted nostalgia, but that is not to say that modern music is less creative or intellectually stimulating than that released in the supposed ‘glory years’. When people reach a certain age, it’s common for change and advancement to be viewed with skepticism and this appears to be the key issue with the way modern music is perceived. An open mind is the key to appreciating the complexities and advancements of an industry that continues to produce captivating new sounds in all forms.

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The dictionary definition of sampling is ‘the act of taking a portion, or sample, of one sound recording and reusing it as an instrument or a sound recording in a different song or piece’. It has its roots in 1980s hip-hop, when artists from poor African-American neighborhoods couldn’t afford instruments, so looped snippets of records on their turntables to create backing tracks. Since then, sampling has become far more commonplace and, rather than being dismissed as stealing and discrediting ‘real’ music, it ought to be celebrated as an alternative means of artistic expression. Instead of diluting the quality of music, it has broadened the variety of musical expression, giving rise to a number of new genres, such as dubstep, created off the back of sampling old dub records.

a volley of expletives in response to the fact a modern electronic group (2manydjs) were performing after him: ‘Fucking pushing buttons on your drum machines. It’s fake!’ he bemoaned.

The views expressed by ageing white rock musicians such as Grohl and Rollins is more representative of the ignorance of an antiquated industry than a true reflection on the state of music in 2016. Dean uni ad 210 x 267.indd 1

18/10/2016 10:08

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Reading Nostalgia Anna Ester Šotolová peruses the pages of the past

hy do we read? Why do we enjoy getting lost in books? There are many answers; for joy, relaxation, for information, for escapism, but also for remembrance. Nostalgia, in my opinion, surrounds every book we read, especially those that have a significant personal connection to our lives.

all, every time it’s opened and leafed through, with every year it ages, it gets closer to being considered a well-loved novel, perhaps someone’s favourite book.

Most of the belles-lettres are written in the past tense; seemingly the easiest tense in which to compose a story. But even novels which abandon the past tense are capable of If you have ever had the opportunity to enter an old library evoking feelings of nostalgia and creating a sense of a world filled with dust and mysterious spines, inviting you to that is passing. Even if the narrator is just a fictional character pull each book out, wipe off the dust and open it, you have and the story is imagined, the purpose of the writer is to draw truly had the chance to explore the worlds gone by and the us into the events that unfold. Their task is to make us believe, stories that have fallen into the oblivion. My family has a and connect fully with the narrator. Is the act of writing a library of this kind at our cottage and book, or indeed writing anything, sometimes I’m disappointed by the These old hardbacks are surrounded by not the act of conservation, and an fact that the book I open is merely memories, filled with the feelings readers from attempt to keep alive something that a boring, insignificant tale from the the past may have experienced whilst immers- is determined to pass? times when my grandfather worked ing themselves in this imaginary world. as an editor and was sent hundreds Although the act of reading is of published manuscripts. However, a totally individual process and I anticipate the day when I will pull out a well-thumbed everyone has a different experience of the same book or book, which will reveal a hidden, beautiful story within and story, we all gain some associations while reading. What you simultaneously display the story of the book itself. Why was love may not be what others do – there is always the threat this book read so many times? Who read it? Where was it of disappointment when you’re telling your best friend about read? These old hardbacks are surrounded by memories, filled your favourite book, and they can’t appreciate what makes it with the feelings readers from the past may have experienced so great. Still, this brings about a certain reminiscence. It does whilst immersing themselves in this imaginary world. Books not matter what brings about your own connections, whether are not separate from life; the story of the physical book it is the story itself or the memories of losing yourself in the develops the tale within: is the owner dead or did they simply book– in every act of reading, you feel nostalgic. abandon the book? Was the book given as a gift? Did the first reader experience this book differently from me? And by the way, have you ever smelled a book? Pure nostalgia.

illustration: Eunjoo Lee

But even novels which abandon the past tense are capable of evoking feelings of nostalgia and creating a sense of a world that is passing.

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Now, let’s abandon the old libraries and take a look at new books. Even a new looking paperback with a colourful cover can be well-thumbed. However, for me, it does not carry the same degree of nostalgia in its pages; this feeling is probably caused by my own sense of absence, in the times I could not live in, the days I could not see, the numerous memories, which are not so heavily imbued in a new novel. New books often look untouched, rather than creating the sense of an old favourite, which has been read many a time throughout one’s life. A paperback published last year does not create a sense of a time gone by, or of a world lost to us now, to the same degree that a book published even twenty years ago might. But that same paperback may one day carry a feeling of nostalgia. After

Glasgow University Magazine

Dec 2016

Spend an afternoon gazing at paintings, or rifling through enticing piles of books. Get involved in student media, just to see what it’s like, or audition for a play to expand your repertoire.

Eternal Sunshine of the Student Mind Rachel Walker contemplates care-free student life Of course, there’s nothing to say that such activities and places can’t be enjoyed by someone who has left their student years behind. But the crux of the matter is that there’s never a better time to explore a city, or even an interest, than when you’re a student. Unless you’re restricted by a demanding university timetable or work schedule, you’re guaranteed to have more time on your hands than you ever will working a nine to five job, so why not make the most of it? Spend an afternoon gazing at paintings, or rifling through enticing piles of books. Get involved in student media, just to see what it’s like, or audition for a play to expand your repertoire. Use that unstructured time you have to join something, anything – there’s literally something out there for everyone. The freedom of university is another undeniably exciting aspect of the student lifestyle. Fourth year fashion student Jenny admits that the best thing about studying fashion at university is the liberty to explore whatever inspires her at that present moment – the autonomy to craft an entire collection without any restrictions on creativity. Similarly, second year history student Hannah appreciates the opportunity to learn from lecturers at the very top of their field – a fantastic prospect that often gets overlooked in the mundanity of day-to-day lectures – and the ability to delve into whatever features of a module fascinate her most. If you love your degree, then it’s often disheartening to think that there’s a world out there that might not value your take on gender in science-fiction. But when you unexpectedly find yourself immersed in a topic that you initially dismissed as boring, then that’s exactly what university is for: finding things you love, and having the freedom to explore them in any way you like. I’ll definitely miss university and the invaluable, often unnoticed opportunities it brings: everything from a student discount on cinema tickets (as recent graduates have reminded me) to the creative independence that comes from structuring my day to accommodate all my bustling commitments. But university’s just one small stage of our lives – just four or five years for most – and more opportunities await us on our graduation day.

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On the day of my graduation in June, I walked out onto University Avenue when the ceremony was over and was suddenly struck by a flurry of emotion. I abruptly realised that, if I hadn’t been returning for a postgraduate degree, this might have been my last moment as a student. It was an unnerving prospect to contemplate – no more essays, no more student discounts, no more afternoons spent researching in the library – but it’s one that, for most of us, will inevitably become real in the near future. University can often be such a transformative period in our lives that it’s difficult to imagine a world that’s not ruled by impending deadlines and ridiculously long summer breaks. Crying fits in week three and dissertation panics aside, it’s great being a student. As a current postgraduate student bracing myself for entering the big bad world of full-time employment, this question is increasingly relevant when imagining some sort of life beyond graduation next year: just what is it we’ll miss when we’re no longer students? As University of Glasgow students, the first thing that inevitably springs to mind is the beauty of our campus. Brutalist monstrosities such as the Boyd Orr and Adam Smith buildings aside, the views when walking around campus are genuinely unparalleled. A quick stroll down the library hill and you’re greeted with a magnificent view of the Gothic tower; a wander around the main building and you can see cloisters wrapped in glowing fairy lights, and courtyards that (as clichéd as it is) do appear to be lifted straight from Hogwarts. Not only that, but the surrounding area of the West End offers a myriad of world-class museums within walking distance that you can easily dip into for free, such as Kelvingrove Art Gallery, one of Scotland’s most-loved attractions, and the university’s very own Hunterian Museum and Art Gallery, housing William Hunter’s impressive collection. The West End is full of other treasures too: think of famous ramshackle second-hand bookshop Voltaire & Rousseau or the resoundingly successful A Play, A Pie and A Pint at lunchtime in the Òran Mór, now in its twenty-fourth season and showcasing 38 innovative new plays a year.

GUM

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Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

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titch in S A Time In a society stuck in the past, can style ever achieve true ingenuity? Pella Ödmann and Arianne Crainie investigate fashion’s relationship with nostalgia ‘Fashion is endlessly exciting,’ Hamish Bowles stated in a recent interview with Vogue. ‘It will always move forward while looking back.’ In this age of pastiche, in which the popularity of vintage shops is surging and past decades are being re-envisioned for a new generation, this statement applies more than ever. With this in mind, we want to know: can style ever be original? Fashion is often inspired and affected by its social, political and creative contexts. The 1960s were a prime example of fashion acting as a reactionary agent of its time; the beginning of youth culture and sexual liberation saw the rise of the mini-skirt and the bikini for women, and for men, a plethora of colours and collarless jackets replaced the mundane suits of the past. Unsurprisingly, many of these looks have been recreated in succeeding decades. Even today, you can spot the spectres of fashion’s past by flipping through fashion magazines, browsing Instagram, or even walking down Sauchiehall street. Our question, then, is: why is fashion so cyclical in nature?

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Well, it’s complicated. This emulation is not necessarily a bad thing: perhaps it’s best to see the styles of other people as a foundation upon which you can build your own personal flair. This can be seen in the popularity of platforms such as Pinterest, which inspire people to turn bric-a-brac into bricolage. The resurfacing of past styles can also act as a foundation to create something novel; the development of androgynous clothing, for example, is a trend that feels contemporary, but harks back to figures such as David Bowie who were doing it before it was ‘cool’. So whilst previous trends were more indicative of complete originality and total innovation, they may now pave the way for a new form of individuality and creative inspiration. Where we may not have the blatant, dramatic upheavals of our forebears, we have infinitely more access to both the old and the new. The constant influx of information that we now have at our fingertips uncovers a treasure trove of bygone eras and a worldwide assembly of every voice imaginable to aid in our own individual distinctive tastes. We say: revolution through evolution.

paintings: Imogen Whiteley

Fashion is, after all, a reconciliation between our outer and inner selves. It can serve to represent our beliefs, our hopes, our views: our identities.

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UKTV believes that the answer is simple: millennial cynicism. Nearly two-thirds of those who participated in their survey said they believed that there was an overwhelming optimism in the ’60s that doesn’t exist today. Incidentally, fashion’s favourite child, the ’90s, also witnessed a cultural renaissance and a positivity that combatted the excess of the ’80s. Past generations saw radical positive changes like the Civil Rights movement and the collapse of the Berlin Wall. Millennials have 9/11, the Recession of 2008, and the ever-inspiring Donald Trump. It makes sense that, in an era of more fear than hope, we would aspire to emulate the positive prospects that our predecessors had to look forward to. It should come as no surprise, then, that we try to affirm these ideas through clothing as a means to ease modern-day anxiety. Fashion is, after all, a reconciliation between our outer and inner selves. It can serve to represent our beliefs, our hopes, our views: our identities.

Another marker of the new millennium has been the public’s fascination with celebrity. Today’s omnipresence of the internet and its obsession with celebrity culture has led to a severe increase in people fashioning themselves on public figures. There has also been an increase in hegemonic celebrity styling and a decrease in independent, personal flair. This has been accelerated via cyberspace provoking the cyclical trends and nostalgic tendencies that pepper fashion today. Without too much effort, you can easily see what your style icon wears every day, and use it to instantly emulate the look. But in doing so, is it still possible to express your individuality?

Stylist: Niamh Carey Photographer: Louise Connor Models: Tracy Duah and Kate Madsen Photo Editor: Kamilla H. Y.

ashion and nostalgia: a partnership old as time. Flick open any style magazine and you’ll find plenty of examples: designers mixing 60’s silhouettes with 90’s prints, 70’s collars with 30’s patterns, 80’s accessories with a little 20’s attitude. And it makes sense, right? Collecting various designs from the past, mixing them up a bit, and bringing them into the present. Using what’s available, with the bonus of granting a whole new generation access to the excitement of past innovative designs. With this in mind, this issue’s shoot wanted to pose the question: how can we utilise style’s obsession with the past to think more ethically about our consumer habits? I recently visited home, and was going through my things when I came across an old dressing-up box. Among the classic selection of witch hats and vampire teeth, I found a bundle of my mum’s old clothes: items she had discarded long ago and thought they now served no purpose other than making her kids look a little scary at Halloween. But to me, they were a trove of vintage treasures. Ranging from tangerine trousers to printed shirts straight from a ‘Wham!’ music video, I suddenly had a whole brand new, deliciously 80’s, and entirely free wardrobe. And it got me thinking. Our current consumer climate sets an incredibly high rate of consumption. It relentlessly encourages us to buy new products instead of being satisfied with what we already have, and as a result it becomes harder and harder not to succumb to the onslaught of stylish product imagery. So what’s the solution? We need to think a little differently about our consumer habits . This issue’s shoot features entirely second-hand clothes - whether they have been begged or borrowed, bought in a charity shop or discovered in a dressing-up box, all you see before you illustrates the power of thinking outside the box when we source our clothes. And that can be part of the whole fun of fashion: when we buy vintage items, or find them in a family member’s wardrobe, there is a certain thrill in the idea that these pieces are a one-off. They are items of the past, each one with a story behind it. Clothing becomes more than just markers of where you are on the current ‘trend scale’; they become objects of interest in themselves. Not to mention the ecological bonuses. As a society, we now must be more creative than ever in sourcing materials that are both ethical and sustainable. So let’s use fashion’s tendency to borrow from the past and cut down on buying new clothes. Don’t get me wrong - new innovation in fashion can transform our cultural landscape and inspire creativity across the globe. But in our age of eclecticism it is crucial that we improvise with the materials that are already available to us before adding to a pretty substantial consumer waste-bin. So next time you’re tempted by Topshop, scour a friend’s wardrobe. Reconsider your cast-offs. Take the time to browse charity shops. Beg and borrow (but maybe don’t steal). I think you’ll find the famous phrase rings true: one man’s waste really is another man’s treasure.

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fashion

Glasgow University Magazine

March 2016

Issue 1

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Grassroots Movements of 2016: A Politics of Passivity? Erika Koljonen ponders the current status of activism As millennials, we are often branded as passive and indifferent, more concerned with the Kardashians than with government proceedings. Although it is definitely incorrect to make such a generalisation that this generation simply does not care, I can see where those making it are coming from. It sometimes does feel as though, in the Western world, clicktivism has replaced activism. That is not to discredit online political engagement by any means – many significant issues have actually been brought into debate in Parliament because of it. However, sometimes I do get the impression that our – or, at the very least, my – generation’s activism is not much more than popping our email address into a change.org petition, or liking and sharing a post on Facebook (who remembers Kony 2012?). I want to avoid making a statement similar to the generalisations banded about in the mainstream media, but to play devil’s advocate for a moment: when the generations of activists before us have risked their lives for their beliefs, I can see where this idea arises from.

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Throughout the United States (the US being the focal point here, as an entire book could be written about the world-wide scale of these movements), those marginalised by mainstream conservatism – homosexuals, women, and ethnic minorities – rallied to fight for their rights in true grassroots fashion. And I don’t mean fight in a figurative sense – almost all of the movements involved clashes with the police. Just look at the 1969 Stonewall Riots of Greenwich Village, where the police attempted to raid the beloved mob-owned gay bar of Stonewall Inn – one of the only places in the city to welcome the most marginalised of the marginalised, such as transvestites and homeless gay youths. At the time, homosexuality was still illegal, and ridiculously drastic measures required people to wear at least three pieces of their gender’s clothing lest they be arrested. The raid escalated to a full-blown riot after a woman, having been violently arrested, yelled at the gathering masses to do something. Which they did. For two days. It was quite a literal, large-scale coming out, and as Michael Fader puts it, for the first It’s hard to say how grassroots movements After the abundance of tie-dye, long time they had “freedom to at least will affect the future of politics, especially hair, free love, and flower power, one show that we demanded freedom”. during a time when both the left and the right of the best-known components of The event was commemorated by are equally dissatisfied by the status quo the ’60s and ’70s was the large-scale the gay community on its one-year grassroots political movements anniversary – 28th June, 1970 – in fighting against the repressive, bigoted, sexist, racist type of what became the first Gay Pride march in US history. conservatism that had been allowed to permeate mainstream culture and politics for centuries. This ideology of traditional Was the world of the 1960s and 1970s really all too different values had once again risen to prominence with the end of from the world we live in now? The sad fact remains that the the Second World War. The post-war era, although a period movements of the era are just as relevant today as they were of affluence, shed light on the underlying issues of society half a century ago. Women from the Republic of Ireland are through unpopular military interventions by superpowers still travelling to Britain for abortions, and gay marriage is still (namely the USA and the USSR), and resulted in a growing a contentious issue all over the Western world. Encounters distrust of authority. The 1950s acted as something of a of racism and sexism are a part of everyday life for many. It’s catalyst for the grassroots politics of the 1960s and 1970s, an hard to say how grassroots movements will affect the future incredibly turbulent era of change during the Cold War. In of politics, especially during a time when both the left and overly simple terms, people were tired of being marginalised the right are equally dissatisfied by the status quo – after all, it and systematically discriminated against, tired of being could be claimed that the Leave vote of Brexit and the rise of sent overseas to fight wars for reasons to which they were Trump are the results of grassroots movements. With that in opposed – or, indeed, reasons that simply did not exist. The mind, change seems inevitable, but it’s up to us to make sure Vietnam War and its bloodshed had invaded living rooms it’s a change that will benefit the future instead of destroying it. globally through now near-ubiquitous television screens, and people were seeing first-hand the destruction being waged in the name of democracy. For the first time in modern history, large groups were gathering to protest against the Establishment, and actually making a difference in doing so.

Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

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Making America ‘Great’ Again: Donald Trump and the Politics of Nostalgia Ross Laidlaw explores our fascination with bygone eras that perhaps never really existed

The American Dream is a utopian vision brought to you by the Founding Fathers (the very same people who owned slaves and introduced the second amendment.

ostalgia, as we normally think of it, is a way of transporting ourselves to wonderful times in our past and reliving the feeling of being in that moment. So powerful is nostalgia, in fact, that we can sometimes remember past events more fondly than when they were actually experienced. It therefore comes as no surprise that the world of politics has capitalised on this powerful feeling – and no-one in recent memory has used this electoral goldmine quite as well as Donald Trump. Trump’s use of nostalgia to influence his principal demographic of ‘angry white guys’ has been clear through most of his campaign. His slogan, ‘Make America Great Again’, is augmented by ever vague comments on how we will ‘love’ his new vision of an America reminiscent of the ‘good old days’; a time when fiscal and social conservatism was the norm, Mexicans didn’t steal our jobs and patriotism was at an all-time high. He relies on the past to push himself forward, and undoubtedly his greatest tool for harnessing this rose-tinted demographic is basing his ideology on the time-honoured goal of many Americans: the American Dream. For those who do not know, the American Dream is a utopian vision brought to you by the Founding Fathers (the very same people who owned slaves and introduced the second amendment). In essence, the American Dream is concerned with how each American has an equal opportunity to achieve riches and prosperity if they put in enough hard work and effort. This ideal was very popular around the period of post-Great Depression America, serving as some sort of hope or incentive for severely demoralised workers around this time.

There are a lot of similarities between the ex-President and the hopeful Trump. Both of them began outside the realm of politics and went on to attempt to run for commander-in-chief (Reagan, however, was Governor of

In a speech given by Reagan, he said that in America “everyone can rise as high and as far as his ability will take him”. With this at the forefront of his campaign, Reagan came to power in 1980 and served for the maximum two terms, also enjoying one of the highest approval ratings ever, at around 70%, on his retirement from office. This sets a scary precedent for our modern times, in which we have a man running on the same fuel as Reagan but with an even more dangerous rhetoric. In practice, the American Dream has never seemed to work, partly because the people who inhabit the top generally stay there and pass their industries on to their family or friends, regardless of how much effort they have put in. Ironically, this can be seen best in the case of Donald Trump, who made it big thanks to a ‘small loan’ from his father and seemingly very little effort on his part. The concentration of economic power with the elite caused by right wing economic policies makes the American Dream very hard to achieve for most, and generally leaves them worse off. At the end of the Reagan administration, the proportion of people who lived below the poverty line had increased by around 2%. If this is what a fairly mild-mannered conservative could do to the poorest in society, imagine the effect Donald Trump could have. Marcel Proust once wrote that ‘remembrance of things past is not necessarily the remembrance of things as they were’. This quote has never been more poignant than now. With nostalgia blinding the fact that the golden era of The American Dream was perhaps not as wonderful as many remember it to be, to get people to appreciate this would not only be a blow to Trump’s campaign but also help erode the warped relationship between nostalgia and politics.

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This ideal became progressively less popular as time went on, but soon a celebrity came along who promised to restore the American Dream as an achievable goal through the implementation of right-wing policies. This man was not Donald Trump, but Ronald Reagan.

California before running for president). Additionally, both are in favour of very right-wing economic policies and, whilst Reagan was not as bombastic or provocative as Trump, it is clear to see that the two men share similar ideals in placing the American Dream at the forefront of their campaigns.

painting: Kristyna Steflova

Glasgow University Magazine

Dec 2016

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Corbynism: A Musty Politics of The Past? Charlie Scrimgeour investigates the appeal of dusty old socialism to the youth of today

Across the Western world, there is a trend of young people feeling increasingly disenchanted with outdated political institutions that refuse to give them a proper voice. The UK is no exception to this rule. When you’ve witnessed illegal wars, financial meltdowns, increasing student debt, housing crises, ever growing inequality and the possibility of a millionaire reality TV star President all before your 21st Birthday, it’s hardly surprising that this sentiment exists. Thus, it is no surprise that when a candidate finally emerges in the UK who speaks with honesty and principle about fair taxation, protecting the NHS, free education, efficient infrastructure and a low carbon economy that so many of us would support him. This figure comes in the form of the ‘unelectable’ Jeremy Corbyn, who has been propagating the same policies all his career. Why is it only now that we have begun to listen to him, and why is it that the young appear to love him so? As the dust settles after the heyday of the neoliberal agenda, it is plain that such a system of excessive consumption, austerity and deregulation is unsustainable. The resulting inequality gap has left the public dissatisfied and frustrated. For many young people, the future seems foggy. Corbyn has been incredibly successful in engaging people in political debate, as illustrated by the huge surge of Labour party members that joined to support his leadership bid. I think that much of his appeal has an air of nostalgia about it; from his old history teacher aesthetic, to his calls to renationalise railways, Corbyn’s demand for a more socialist agenda seems familiar. The idea of voting for an old Labour party – that older generations have spoken positively about – is exciting, and feels like progressive change; something that new Labour, especially when under Miliband, seems to lack.

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Nostalgia as a principle has made a roaring comeback recently, and I’m not just referring to the ‘Stranger Things’ TV show. Politics of sentimentality seem to be a winning formula as Trump calls to make America ‘great again’, Brexiteers fight to take Britain ‘back’ and Theresa May plans to bring back grammar schools. This desire for things to be as

‘simple’ as they once were is deceptive: our nostalgia allows us to forget the negative elements of the past. Fundamentally, I believe it is also wishful thinking. This political reminiscing has come from a dissatisfaction with the current system, but can the past really fix our modern day problems? And, more importantly, why is it that a future politics has not emerged? It has always fascinated me that so many young voters have turned to older socialist figures such as Jeremy Corbyn and Bernie Sanders for guidance into the unsteady future, and not a younger, more dynamic, and essentially radically thinking figure. The world today is hugely dissimilar from that of the nostalgic sepia of the 1970s – in a globalised world of mass communication, our political challenges differ vastly from those of times past. To me, the political climate amongst young people seems rife for a green candidate, a degrowth movement or an even more radical post-capitalist figure to cash in on the vehement dissatisfaction with the UK government. However, all of these movements perhaps lack the familiarity of the ideas that Corbyn supports. Whether or not Corbyn truly represents a valid solution to our current political climate remains to be seen, though it hasn’t looked overly promising with the recent fragmentation of the Labour party as a whole. However, one of the main elements that I think is present in the youth support for Corbyn is hope – and so in this case perhaps the overwhelming sense of nostalgia arising from his politics manifests itself in a desire for a better world. Therefore, regardless of where Corbyn’s recent triumphant leadership win takes the Labour party, I think many young people are mobilised for change.

Politics of sentimentality seem to be a winning formula as Trump calls to make America ‘great again’, Brexiteers fight to take Britain ‘back’ and Theresa May plans to bring back grammar schools.

illustration: Kamilla Hu-Yang

Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

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Rebooting the Past Neil Weaving explores the psychology behind our fascination with old forms of technology

who’d regularly use one. Our nostalgia for these old technologies is just that: nostalgia, not a real alternative. We flirt with the absence of choice these technologies imply, aestheticise it, even fetishise it, but refuse to take the plunge: to commit to doing without all the things my laptop can do but a typewriter can’t.

Which all raises the question: why? Is there something about record players and typewriters that make them ‘better’ than the products that have replaced them? Not really. Science-fiction writer William Gibson once said that, for a writer, word processors work the way your brain works: you can start in the middle, chop bits up, move things about, redraft effortlessly. And while streaming services sell themselves on putting a near-complete global music library at your fingertips, vinyl restricts you to listening to certain albums in certain places, and in certain ways. But that’s the crux of it. Choosing to use old technology is choosing to limit your own choice. It’s almost a rebellion. We inhabit an ideology predicated on its supposed freedoms - free trade, free speech, free movement, to a point. Products are sold to us as having more and more features, each icon in the appstore giving us a little more choice for how we use our devices and, by extension, how we live our lives.

Here’s an old technology that has made a quieter comeback: cinema. While UK cinema admissions plummeted in the late 70s and remained low through the 80s and 90s, ticket sales increased sharply around the turn of the millennium and have remained constant ever since, despite rising prices and competition from streaming sites. Maybe the reason why is not what cinema offers - a slightly bigger screen and £5 popcorn - but what it demands. It asks us to turn off our phones, allowing us two and a half hours in a darkened room with no one for company but ourselves. Even better, it provides a watertight excuse should anyone try to contact us: sorry, I was at a film.

Choosing to forego choice is a rejection of a techno-capitalist vision of progress that says more is always more, except if this is supposed to be a rebellion, it’s rarely one that goes all the way. Plenty of folk buy records, but it’s rare to find someone for whom vinyl represents their only access to music. And while typewriters are a frequent subject of sepia-toned Tumblr snaps, I don’t know anyone

Nostalgia for old technology, then, is a romanticisation of lack. It’s not what the record player or the typewriter can do, but what it can’t. We long for the absence it implies: the absence of the internet. We crave escape from social media, from our personal and even professional obligations to always be online, to always be contactable. The technology we use for leisure and for work, the technology our bosses use to contact us, and the technology that beams the world’s freshest atrocities into our bedrooms every night have become one and the same. You can’t unplug the phone without unplugging the television, the newspaper, the writing desk.

science & technology

illustration: Kati Brunk

ld technology is new again. You probably know that vinyl is back. In 2015, record sales at HMV surged by over 50%, up from what was already the strongest showing for the medium in decades. YouTubers such as Stuart Ashens make a living demonstrating 1980s computers to a post-Millennial audience - his book Terrible Old Games You’ve Probably Never Heard Of broke crowdfunding records by becoming the fastest ever project to reach its target for donations. Even the humble typewriter seems perennially on the verge of a resurgence. In 2014, several outlets reported a sharp uptick in typewriter sales from German manufacturers in the wake of Edward Snowden’s revelations about the extent of the American NSA’s global intelligence operations. A spokesman for Olympia, who have produced writing machines since 1921, told the German-language Wirtschaftswoche magazine that the company expected to sell more typewriters in 2014 than at any time in the past twenty years.

The relief cinema provides, however, is only barely less fleeting than the illusionary respite offered by our fantasies of record players and typewriters. As we emerge blinking into the light of day, we reboot our phones and catch up with what happened when we were gone. As the internet continues to become more integrated with everything we do and every object we own, it’s an open question whether two hours at a time will be enough. But that’s the crux of it. Choosing to use old technology is choosing to limit your own choice. It’s almost a rebellion.

Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

The Burning Questions Dalia Gala explains the fiery origins of scientific discovery

As a science student, I often find myself wondering what brought us humans to such a scientifically advanced level. Why is it only our species that possesses the power to assess critically the environment and phenomena that we witness? What helped the animal that we once were to develop analytical thinking? There must have been something special about humans that gave them an evolutionary advantage. If we want to think about where the modern homo sapiens comes from, we need to question the history of our species and ask: what pushed these little monkeys to descend from a tree and start producing clever stone tools? The answer might be unexpected for some – it was fire that helped us. When the early hominids gained the ability to start and maintain fire, they could prepare their food, such as meat or raw plant products. The process of cooking – by which I mean thermal treatment of organic matter that the hominids found edible – results in pre-processing of the food. This process works a little bit like a stomach, initialising the breakdown of the substances present in the food, making it more assimilable.

But what came next? Humans knew that fire could provide safety and better meals. Why would they want to explore their surroundings, to find out more about nature? Well, they were curious and wanted answers. Initially, because of their lack of knowledge about natural phenomena, they developed a system of beliefs, often based on the appearance of the phenomenon itself. Hence in Slavic, Scandinavian, Greek, and many other mythologies, the gods have the attributes of natural occurrences – such as Zeus, the god with the power to create thunderstorms. However, more observant members of society would notice trends in the weather, or see the convergence of some natural occurrences. Yet, as we all know quite well, some religious

But bright individuals never stopped questioning the things they thought had a rational explanation, things that made them curious. This, indeed, is how we advanced to the level of knowledge that we have today; a level which allows us to cure diseases and to challenge nature and medicine to find better solutions to humanity’s problems. Even fire was “discovered” by humankind as a result of unrelenting curiosity, which gave our hominid ancestor, first scared and burned by merciless flames, the desire to control them and harvest their newly discovered power. Some people just do not take simple answers; they dig deeper and approach that which instils fear in others with bravery and open-mindedness, ready to observe and learn. It is these pioneers who we should all thank, for from their courage comes our progress. Even fire was ‘discovered’ by humankind as a result of unrelenting curiosity

How Awesome Was Your Childhood? Let’s be real, 2016 has been a tough year and it doesn’t look like it’s getting any easier. Are you tired of your favourite celebs dropping like flies? Are you disillusioned by the state of modern politics? Maybe you’re just not that great at adult-ing. Whatever your gripe is, we can all agree that things used to be a lot better. Take some time to check out this list and see how many awesome things you remember from your childhood!

1. Heelys!

Rolling in at number one we’ve got a biggie! These snazzy gadgets might have looked like ordinary trainers, but don’t be fooled: if you slapped on a pair of these you’d be gliding up and down the school corridors like a Grecian God in no time! Or maybe you wanted to pretend you were a race car – the possibilities were endless. One thing’s for certain: any kid with these was sure to be the envy of the playground, which is what made it so frustrating when your father refused to buy them for you because they were ‘an accident waiting to happen’.

2. Yucky Yo-Balls!

This colourful ball of stretchy rubber and mysterious fluid was a must have for any kid who liked the look of yo-yos but never quite learned to walk the dog! It was easy to use, endlessly fun, and delightfully gross. With all the rumours about strangulations and accidental poisonings floating around the school, this toy quickly became public enemy number one – which only made you love it all the more! Looking back, you probably think it’s fair that your father took this one away from you, but you certainly didn’t at the time!

3. The Last Time You Saw Your Father!

So you might remember this one a bit differently from the other kids. Your sister, for instance, remembers saying she loved him before he walked out the door that last time. Your memory of it is, shall we say, a little different. You still weren’t talking to him because of the Heelys and the yo-ball, and you pretended you didn’t hear him when he called goodbye! They say hindsight’s twenty-twenty, and nobody saw the aneurysm coming, so we’re pretty sure you’re off the hook. Still, this was a big one for sure!

4. Digimon!

Although never quite as popular as its rival, Pokémon, you were always a sucker for those digital monsters! You were the kind of kid who drank Pepsi when other kids drank Coke, and didn’t have a father when other kids did. You were a born hipster! Sure, you may have jumped on the wrong bandwagon on this one, and you don’t see Digimon-Go coming out anytime soon, but for a while there after the funeral, your grandparents bought you just about whatever you asked for, so you had more Agumons than you could shake a stick at! You’ve certainly digivolved as a person since then, and you can’t really remember what you did with all those boxes of toys, but that’s life!

5. Art Attack!

Did someone say big art attack? This was the height of culture when you were a kid, and you remember sitting for hours wondering just how Neil turned ping pong balls and some pipe-cleaners into a functioning windmill. Was he a wizard!? You tried to work along with the show once but ended up spilling PVA glue all over the new carpet in the living room! Your mum’s boyfriend Pete was angrier than you’d ever seen him and you still can’t hear the words papier-mâché without breaking into a cold sweat. And get this, our Neil’s now rocking out in metal band Marseille and is actually due to go on tour soon, but he’ll always be the Picasso of CITV to us!

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As a result, the hominids were wasting less energy on digesting the food, whilst gaining more nutritional value from it. It also meant they were able to spend less time during the day looking for food to support their large, evolutionarily expensive brain, and they had more time for other activities. It is speculated that these activities – including building better shelters, finding new ways to start a fire, creating more effective animal traps, and even being more observant without the desperate focus on finding food – were what caused the further development of the pre-human brain.

powers were not keen on losing the influence they held over masses of people. For example, the Polish astronomer, Nicolaus Copernicus, who claimed that the Earth was round, had his theory proclaimed false and rejected by the Catholic Church.

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How many of these awesome things do you remember? Comment below with anything we’ve missed! Sean McLeod

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Prunus

fleeting

In Spring: orchards blossom, birds — nestled deep within the thickets — sing

no engraved memories on monuments or digital diaries, the public timelines, but trapped in fleeting me.

Children eat the first of the stone cherries, which hang: lightly from the low branches

i try to hold her still, little she, a lost one that hides inside a word, or softly spoken touch, floating in the beginning

And we shall sit under the prunus tree: the grass, brushing our feet; smoking our cigarettes When the birds, nestled deep within the thickets sing, it will be Spring — Anthony Daly

Flash Debonair and His Phantom History So much promise at the start of the affair! Now all rotted and not really there. The bedroom wall a twisty patchwork promenade of his scatter-shot past; dank, damp Stretford streets, where he ran the days gold and nights black flash clothes and a badge reading `DEBONAIR’

i crave the fleeting feeling found in the i do not know, she, her, this fragment of me, of how it will flow or go. i do not remember, i create fleeting flashbacks, in this revolving door i enjoy running into backwards, bending my body in new directions so the rush feels different. fleeting past me is you and i on a rising love trail whose breadcrumbs i have eaten too many times but i want to taste new sweetness and lap them up off our hidden track, so let us freeze and fall back down, slowly intertwine, forgetting how to flee eee

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All this long long past (of course) that brave new world long having swallowed it whole still he liked to think on those days longs gone; through him they went on and on and on.

or before that beginning had begun.

Kirsty Dunlop

Max McGinn

photo: Marion Prieler

Dec 2016

Glasgow University Magazine

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Seven Years Four Months Eleven Days

he missed his presence every day. The flat was empty and cold; it stank of Supernoodles and lentil soup because she had never learned to cook. She kept forgetting to buy milk and biscuits and she never remembered to set her alarm. She had tried – but it was useless. The shop was always shut by the time she got there and she was still in the habit of waking up too late, cramming toast into her mouth as she frantically tried to organise herself.

moaning about how he had had to watch the football on his erratic iPad. Everyone had commented: she looked so happy, she looked like she was having the time of her life, she was so fun again. No more half-joking enquiries about when they were going to hurry up and get engaged (it had been five years, didn’t she know?), no more infuriating jibes about how they were going to be the first to have lots of bouncing babies.

She missed the days of having milky cereal every morning. She missed waking up to the reassuring splatter of the shower; she missed coming home from work and being greeted with enticing aromas and meals that didn’t arrive crunchy in a plastic packet. She felt alone. She was alone – singing to herself as she tackled the clinging stains on the bowls and plates and cutlery that littered her kitchen; commenting aloud on the ludicrous plot twists in her favourite TV shows, receiving no sarcastic criticism of how noisily she chewed her popcorn. It didn’t dispel the loneliness, these feeble attempts. It didn’t make her want to stifle the tears that bubbled up when she noticed the half-filled bookcases, sterile and plain. And the drawers, once so crammed with intermingling socks and underwear. There was a pale gap on the wall where his poster of The Godfather had hung, for four years, and the clutter on her side of their shared desk was no longer restrained, no longer subdued by his perpetual efforts to rein in her messiness.

“I’m not sure I want children,” she had said repeatedly; endlessly, it seemed. Invariably greeted with smugness – us mummies know best. They had talked about it, a lot. About marriage too. About changing her name and who would be the primary caretaker of the tiny little thing that had begun to chip away at their relationship. He grew keener as time went on; she became less certain. They went away to Paris for their six years’ anniversary and walked beneath the Eiffel Tower and she had cried on the balcony, late at night, when he was sleeping. She had begun to miss him even then.

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But then there had been fruitless flat-hunting expeditions, a lacklustre holiday, a smashed vase that she could never forgive. They moved in together. It abruptly became difficult to muster up enthusiasm for days spent contemplating Impressionist paintings and nights spent eating Japanese food. ‘Eat in front of the TV, why don’t we, and watch stupid reality programmes that neither of us like.’ Exhausted by work and life and the general effort of trying, their mutuality began to disintegrate. It was probably about time, she

‘Why can’t you just get over it?’ she had asked, firm and unshakeably correct. *** But now: now everything was different. Now she missed him, unbearably. The stability and reliability of his presence; the quiet, unassuming way in which he took control of her impossible life. The associations that he carried with him of better, more confident days: back when they were both still at university and could afford to spend afternoons lying around his flat, bingeing on cold pizza. Back when she was certain that the future was a promise; that her aspirations could be unfolded neatly and realised swiftly. She heard that he was doing well. Her best friend muttered something about a new girlfriend, a new job. That didn’t matter; not really. She always knew that he would succeed, that he would never be content to waste his life with someone as useless as her. But still. It didn’t stop her from crying whenever she got in after work, weary and shivering, and noticed the empty couch, the blank TV, the flushed slivers of ice that had formed on the living room window. The loneliness of a double bed, with one half unused. She sometimes wondered if she should move to somewhere new; create some fresh memories. But then she dredged up his old blue jumper from the back of the couch – the sleeves ragged and threadbare, the neck stretched and saggy – and she knew that she would stay.

creative writing

It was liberating in a way, she supposed. The intensity was gone and now she could live normally and impulsively; unhampered. She let her shoes clog up the hall and she stayed out too late, drinking tequila and pitchers in some student bar, dismissive of her 9am start the next morning. She sobbed unashamedly at tragically romantic films, unimpeded by his disparaging looks, and she blasted rap music when she brushed her hair in the morning. She didn’t have to pretend to appreciate gloomy classical symphonies or violent gangster films where everyone ended up bloody and dead. It was exhilarating – like moving away from your parents for the first time, like being a selfish teenager all over again. She had her friends round, for gin and salacious gossip, and it was miraculous, really, not having to usher them out at precisely eleven or to contend with interminable

To miss the last-minute drives around the countryside, the idyllic picnics on stony beaches. The sort of idiotic coupledom that seemed so pathetic in retrospect, dragged from the set of a Nicholas Sparks film. It had been like a fairy-tale romance to begin with, a small injection of storybook optimism into a dreary life. Not a torrid affair or meaningless fun, but the best kind of infatuation: steady and heartfelt, something that could blossom. Nervous small talk that grew into enlarged friend groups and weekend trips to cosy B&Bs; a shy ‘I-love-you’ on an autumnal morning that soon grew into habit. She had smiled all the time. Everyone had commented on it: friends who labelled it nauseating, his parents who found it endearing.

thought, as she decided that she no longer wanted to be with him. She felt tethered, disgusted by his slobbery tears and flaming bursts of anger on the day that he moved out.

Rachel Walker

Glasgow University Magazine