THURSDAY 20 MARCH 2025 | WWW.THESAINT.SCOT | ISSUE 288
“It Is Not True.”
Rector Stella Maris accuses the University of misrepresentation
EDITH OBORNE News Writer
In an exclusive interview with The Saint, University Rector Stella Maris speaks out after being discharged from the University Court in August 2024. Maris defends the statement she made in November 2023 accusing Israel of “genocidal attacks” in Gaza. She remains resolute in her position against the University’s decision to dismiss her as President of the University Court and as a charity trustee, accusing the University of misrepresentation, “racial stereotyping,” and not giving concerns about Islamophobia and the Pro-Palestinian movement “the attention they deserve.”
Maris describes the independent investigation into her statement as “biased”.
In January 2024, the University announced an independent investigation, led by Lady Morag Ross KC, as to whether Maris’ statement breached the responsibilities and standards placed on her as a member of the Court and a charity trustee. In her statement, made within five weeks of her election, Maris called for an immediate ceasefire and accused Israel of “genocidal attacks” in Gaza, whilst denouncing “war crimes” by Hamas. Ross’ findings were released publicly on 29 July, 2024, calling some of Maris’ statements “unwise and ill-judged,” but circumstances were not “sufficiently clear [...] to show that there is a breach of the relevant obligations,” and did not advise dismissal.
Despite this, on 1 August, 2024, the University announced that the Court had unanimously discharged Maris, with one abstention. The University stated that their decision was not due to her initial statement regarding the Israel-Palestine conflict, but because Maris “repeatedly declined to accept the conclusion of an independent investiga-
tion, which found that she had made some students ‘fear for their safety,’ and by her actions and activities breached her responsibilities and legal obligations.” Speaking to The Saint, Maris asserts, “It is not true.”
“I do not regret releasing that state-
if it turned out that I was wrong. I knew what my intentions were behind saying what I said, which was not anti-semitism. It was not to inflame tensions against any group. It was to fulfil the mandate that I had had drilled into me from childhood, which was
ment at all. Not even a little bit.”
“In as far as the term ‘genocide’, I understand that some people found it to be inflammatory. I consider what’s happening in Gaza to be inflammatory.”
“My view of it was, it is very important to use the right words to describe reality, even
in memory of the Holocaust, never again.” Maris joined St Andrews as an undergraduate in 2017. She became heavily involved in student representation, serving as Rector’s Assessor under former Rector Dr Leyla Hussein. The position acts as a bridge to the student body, leads the Rector’s Com-
mittee, and sits as a full-time member of the University Court, the governing body of the University of St Andrews. After graduating, Maris was elected by the student population as Rector in November 2023.
While Maris still holds the title of ‘Rector’ until her term expires in October 2026, she cannot enact its traditional responsibilities as President or a member of the University Court. The role of University Rector has diverging definitions. The University of St Andrews website states: “The role of the Rector is to preside at meetings of the University Court.” The University of St Andrews Students Association outlines that it is “completely independent and external to the University and represents the student community in the University’s major decision-making committees.” The 2023 Rectorial Election Handbook states that the values of a Rector include a “willingness to champion a cause, without fear or favour.”
Speaking to The Saint, Vice-Principal (Governance) Alastair Merrill, who acts as Secretary to the University Court, stated that in relation to the Court the role of Rector is “not technically a student representative.” He stated: “Whilst the Rector has got important pastoral responsibilities in relation to the entire student population, the Rector’s primary role in relation to Court is to act as its President and not to champion any particular voice.” He continued, “It’s increasingly a ceremonial role in relation to Court, but it can bring perspectives. The Rector has got a very important pastoral role.” Maris’ November 2023 statement received a mixed reaction from the student community. One open letter issued by “alumni, students, and friends of the University of St Andrews” declared it was “unacceptable for the Rector to be selective in their responsibility to represent all stu-
Continues on Page 4.
What’s Inside?
EDITORIAL
Welcome back! We, at The Saint, hope you had a lovely Spring Break and enjoyed your well-deserved week off, whether that was abroad, at home, or here in St Andrews. The Saint also took a little hiatus, which was perhaps to your dismay, but I can safely say that Issue 288 contains excellent content. Our Devil’s Advocate asks: “Is ‘High Culture’ the most valuable form of art?”, a whimsy article on butterflies appears in Sci-Tech, and in The Relic, an article by Samuel Thayre discusses the benefits of living next to the sea and reminds students to appreciate St Andrews’ geographical splendour. I have always lived near the sea. At home in Aberdeenshire, my house is two minutes away from the sea; if I open my door and go onto my street, I can see the North Sea waves crashing against the shore. Parallel to this, in St Andrews I reside two minutes away from the sea. Perhaps the smell of briny foam and the aural quality of the waves has been a subconscious compass in my life. I always feel drawn to the sea in times of despair: it grounds me and acts as a reminder that there is a world beyond. As much as I love the seclusion and forest glades of cherished sites like Royal Deeside in Aberdeenshire, I could never quell my desire to be “beside the seaside, beside the sea.”
The sea provides a space to discover new perspectives and reassess matters. Assessing things is a primal quality of journalists. Our front-page article, an interview with Rector Stella Maris, is a figment of that quality. It is anchored by an assessment of student representation in St Andrews, uncovering the wider implications of Maris’ dismissal from the University Court seven months later. Rector Maris’ tenure has been marred by controversy, and being St Andrews’ flagship newspaper, The Saint bears a continual duty to its readers to diligently report on such issues which remain pertinent to the student body. The interview is the first time Maris has spoken to The Saint since her dismissal, and it will be a benchmark in The Saint’s catalogue of prominent interviews. As we collectively move past the midway point and towards the conclusion of the Candlemas semester, there exists a time for assessment: of how you have progressed, what you have learned, and your next steps for the final snippet of the semester. In the meantime, enjoy what is an excellent issue from The Saint, David
“Quote of the Issue: “If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.”
- Anne Bradstreet
The Editorial Board
David Buchan Editor-in-Chief
Riley Raab Editor-in-Chief
Pietro Barbini Business Manager
Mary Henderson News Editor
Georges Toulouse Viewpoint Editor
Simon Ezra-Jackson Features Editor
Alex Le Sage Puzzles Editor
Alden Arnold Photography Editor
Arnaz Mallick Arts & Culture Editor
Ilaria Freccia Deputy Editor-in-Chief
Hannah Shiblaq Deputy Editor-in-Chief
Olga Alonso Blanco Events Editor
Ana-Lucia Chalmers Science & Technology Editor
Mahaley Wise Sport Editor
Isabelle Holloway Head of Illustration
Armaan Madanmohan Senior Copy Editor
Natalie Olofsson Podcast Editor
Maria Ebrahim Head of Web & Social Media
EDITOR: MARY HENDERSON
Calls to Strip Neil Gaiman of Honorary Doctorate, Amidst Allegations of Sexual Assault
EVA LEWIS News Writer
Since July 2024, multiple allegations of sexual assault and misconduct have been filed against the best-selling author Neil Gaiman, including one by a student at the University of St Andrews. Eight of the women who reported the abuse were interviewed by New York Magazine, published on 13 January, 2025. Gaiman denies these allegations. Neil Gaiman was awarded an honorary doctorate by the University of St Andrews in 2016 for his work as a “versatile, challenging writer, and generous champion of literacy.”
The St Andrews student, who worked as a nanny for Gaiman’s son before joining the University, stated that she asked University Principal Dame Sally Mapstone to strip Gaiman of his honorary degree at a meeting held in December 2024. It was reported that while Principal Mapstone showed sympathy for what the student had endured, the board was indecisive, stating that the University would need “evidence of prosecution” before deciding to rescind his degree.
The University Policy Handbook states: “The University has a responsibility to prevent and respond to any behaviour
which is contrary to the values and ideals of our shared community which requires a commitment to treat everyone with dignity, courtesy and respect.
As such, the University will not tolerate any form of unacceptable behaviour or abuse of violence towards any community member. Any allegations of this nature will be looked into promptly, and if appropriate, disciplinary action will be taken.”
Since the meeting in December, at least three more women have come out with allegations of sexual violence and abuse against Gaiman. Gaiman has been dropped by his publisher Dark Horse Comics, and several of his upcoming film and TV projects have been delayed or cancelled.
“I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever.”
On 14 January, Gaiman published a statement on his website stating,
“As I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don’t accept there was any abuse.”
He added: “I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can’t accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn’t do.”
In February, the St Andrews student opened proceedings to sue Neil Gaiman and his wife Amanda Palmer for sexual abuse and violating human trafficking laws while she worked as their live-in nanny, claiming £5.6
million in damages. Gaiman has moved to dismiss the lawsuit, citing counter-evidence and that US courts have no jurisdiction over allegations arising in New Zealand, which is where the alleged abuse is said to have taken place. Gaiman and Palmer are currently undergoing divorce and custody proceedings.
“We will continue to monitor this case with concern and close interest.”
A University spokesperson stated: “We applaud the courage of all survivors of sexual abuse, and especially those who have felt able to speak out about it. Our priority is the welfare of our students, whom we are providing support and counselling. We will continue to monitor this case with concern and close interest.”
St Andrews
National Focus Stories from Scotland
ZEYNEP KAYRA YILDIRIM News Writer
Keir Starmer announces plans to abolish NHS England
Prime Minister Keir Starmer has announced plans to abolish NHS England in an attempt to reduce “burdensome layers of bureaucracy without any clear lines of accountability.” Starmer criticised the civil service as an “overcautious, flabby state,” and emphasised modernisation through his AI Opportunities Action Plan. This
“Up
to 10,000 jobs could be lost, with funds redirected towards frontline care.”
plan proposes using AI in public sector departments to enhance efficiency. Starmer also suggested dismantling what he described as the “world’s largest quango.”
The proposal has been met with mixed reactions. According to The Guardian, up to 10,000 jobs could be lost, with funds redirected towards frontline care. The Health Secretary stated that abolishing NHS England would restore ministerial control and save “hundreds of millions of pounds.” Critics, however, warn of the impact on civil service morale. NHS England, formed under the 2012 Health and Social Care Act, introduced 300 local commissioners, later consolidated into 40 Integrated Care Boards in 2022. The transfer of staff to the Department of Health and Social Care (DHSC) remains uncertain.
First Minister John Swinney met US President Donald Trump’s son Eric Following backlash over US President Donald Trump’s upcoming second state visit to the UK, Eric Trump and First Minister Swinney have met to discuss the Trump Organization. As a senior executive in his fa-
ther’s business, Eric was welcomed to Bute House in Edinburgh to discuss Scotland’s investment potential and the company’s continued commitment to Scotland. This came after the Trump Turnberry, a golf resort in Ayrshire, was daubed over with red paint by a pro-Palestinian group over the weekend. One golfing green was dug up while another was sprayed with the words “Gaza is not for sale.” Eric Trump mentioned that the meeting was focused solely on making “Trump Turnberry and Trump International in Aberdeenshire two of the most iconic golf destinations in the world.” He explicitly stated that Scottish or US politics were not discussed and the meeting was concentrated on golf and business investments. The Trump Organization reaffirmed its dedication to enhancing Scotland’s profile as a global destination for luxury golf experiences.
Victims of Brazil’s worst environmental disaster to pursue UK claim, despite $31 billion settlement
Victims of Brazil’s 2015 Fundão dam disaster are pursuing a legal claim in the UK,
arguing that a $31 billion settlement with Anglo-Australian mining company BHP inadequately compensates affected communities. Nineteen people were killed when the dam collapsed and let out a toxic wave of sludge, flooding forests, polluting the Doce River and rendering thousands homeless.
“Nineteen people were killed when the dam collapsed.”
Marking the largest group action in English legal history, victims’ lawyers insist that pursuing the case in English courts will ensure greater accountability and justice. BHP maintains its commitment to supporting Brazilian communities, whilst defending the settlement as fair. The lawsuit ended on 13 March, with the judge yet to produce a judgement.
Photo from University of
Continued from page 1 dents”. In a post on Instagram, St Andrews’ Jewish Society called Maris’ statement “divisive, harmful and not based on fact,” and did not address the “multiple anti-semitic attacks in St Andrews.” The society took issue with her use of the ‘Electronic Intifada’ as a source, which they claimed has “consistently given voice to antisemitic journalists,” and called on her to resign if she did not apologise.
Meanwhile, an opposing open letter, which St Andrews Amnesty International Society estimated to have received 1,106 signatures from students, thanked Maris for her “courageous stance,” and her statement which “inspired a sense of pride in the St Andrews community.” A later open letter released in May 2024 from the University College Union called on the University to divest from institutions “complicit in Israel’s genocide in Gaza” and received 1,072 signatures from staff and students.
“I felt ... [that] accusation was more to do with silencing voices like mine.”
The University only publicly responded to the open letter that called for Maris’ resignation, stating: “As the senior management team which leads the University of St Andrews, we are utterly dismayed that the Rector, on this occasion, put her right to freedom of expression ahead of her duty to represent all students, and to be concerned for their welfare.”
In response to claims about her statement leading to some Jewish students having “fears for their safety,” Maris states: “My statement itself did not advocate for violence. The notion that me referring to a global event that everyone was aware of
somehow triggers more anti-Semitism, I fundamentally reject and I understand that [some Jewish students] felt uncomfortable. I understand that they felt unsafe.”
“I felt that at the time [that] accusation was more to do with silencing voices like mine.”
At the time Maris released her statement, a letter was signed by 36 UN Special Rapporteurs expressing concerns about war crimes and genocide in Gaza. Since her statement, the International Court of Justice has declared a “plausible genocide” in Gaza. Human Rights organisations like Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and B’Tselem have concluded that there is “sufficient evidence of genocide” in Gaza.
Maris states: “I think that there is a moral duty to speak up about this, and I think also there is a perspective that comes from being a person of colour in this country, where, so often in narratives around justice and equity, there’s this idea that you’re not supposed to use certain words because you need to make those in positions of power comfortable with your narrative before it can become [...] part of the mainstream. I’ve never believed in that. I do not operate on the time scale of a 600-year-old institution.”
When asked if she believes the University tried to censor her, Maris replied: “I think they tried. I don’t think they succeeded.”
As part of the mediation process following the release of Lady Ross’s report, Maris states that the University sent her three “asks”: “The first one [was] to accept the outcome of the report. The second one [was] to make an apology […] The third one was to accept that I was bound by the Court’s code of conduct.” In response to these, Maris states: “I don’t know [why] they thought that they had the authority to demand [that] someone apologise. But, regardless, I said I would be willing to consider the wording of such an apology.”
“I accepted that [the report] found those findings. I didn’t agree with [the report], but I accepted that was the outcome of the report.”
She states that the University took this
“I accepted that was the outcome of the report.”
criticism of the report as a rejection of it: “If I sent you a twenty-page paper responding to the investigation outlining my concerns and you do nothing to address the substance of what I’ve said, you don’t get to say to me [that] you have to accept it all.”
In their statement announcing Maris’ discharge from the Court, the University said they reached this decision because she “repeatedly declined to accept the conclusion of the investigation.” Vice-Principal Merrill told The Saint that Maris had claimed she was ‘‘independent of all administrative mechanisms in the University,” and this position was why relations broke down. Maris denies this, saying, “That is categorically not true, I have never said that I’m independent of all governance and administrative mechanisms in the University [...] [The University] have tried time and time again to misrepresent my statements, for reasons I believe are rooted in self-preservation, not a real interest or willingness to engage in transparency and fairness.”
Maris states that she was unfairly criticised in the investigation for a comment she made on Instagram in relation to her statement on Gaza: “I don’t hate Jewish people. Please stop being weird.” The investigation called the comment “contrary to the interests of the University” and was “insulting and discourteous.” Maris said that she posted this comment in the context of the “racially aggravated messages” she was receiving. The University used the report to criticise Maris, declaring in a statement published on 3 December, 2024, “In re-
sponse to people who raised concerns about antisemitism and the effect of the Rector’s words and actions on Jewish people and students, she told them to “stop being weird.”
Maris responded to this, saying: “I received a message from someone saying that [...] they would make sure I would never be able to get a job and they called me ‘Jew-hating’ Stella. I put out a post on Instagram saying, ‘I do not hate Jewish people. Please stop being weird.’”
“For some reason, the University interpreted that as me saying that directly to Jewish students, which is a ridiculous characterisation.”
“For [the University] to say that I had called Jewish students weird — I’m appalled that they would frame it like that.”
“It’s deeply irresponsible to have put out a statement like that about a highly visible black woman in this town.”
When The Saint asked Vice Principal Merrill if the University took Maris’ social media statements out of context by referring to all Jewish students, he denied this, saying, “I am not going to get into the nit-picking over who it was aimed at.” He stated, “Morag Ross’ report was very clear about the ill-judged nature of a number of Stella’s social media comments [...] We had an independent investigation by one of Scotland’s leading KCs, who is now a judge, and Court accepted that report and its findings in full.”
In December 2024, Maris, on Instagram,
Members of the University Court
Principal Dame Sally Mapstone and Chancellor, The Rt Hon Lord Campbell of Pittenweem
revealed that she had been excluded from the University’s winter graduation ceremonies. She stated that she had been “obliged to initiate a judicial review proceeding on a submission made by the University Court.”
The University released a statement in response to her claims, saying: “It is disappointing that Ms Maris has chosen to focus on herself on a day on which the University and everyone associated with it is celebrating the achievements of our graduates. She was informed weeks ago that she would not attend Graduation, but chose to wait to until the ceremonies were underway to complain. The Rector does not have an automatic right to attend Graduation.”
The University’s statement referenced Lady Ross’ report which concluded that Maris had breached her responsibilities as Rector because she “used social media to invite supporters to attack the University,” though this was later edited to say, “she also used social media to invite her supporters to ‘make it harder’ for the University.”
The post in question stated: “You don’t need to be a student to sign but we need more student voices on there so please encourage others to sign [...] These are the voices the University is refusing to acknowledge. Let’s make it harder for them.”
“The decision to remove me [has] a chilling effect on student representation.”
Lady Ross’ investigation criticised this post: “This Instagram message directs its force against the University itself. The Rec-
to pausing the recruitment of a Rector’s Assessor.” He continued, “[In light of] Stella having decided to take legal action against Court, it’s felt that there would be a fundamental conflict of interest of anyone coming in as Rector’s Assessor to represent the Rector and to be party to decisions of a body against which the former Rector, Stella, was taking legal action.”
Merrill claimed that there has been no change in student representation on the Court as the Rector, despite being elected by students, the role “is not formally a student representative in [the] Court” and conveyed that it “is becoming a ceremonial role.”
Maris believes there is “definitely a vacuum” in student representation, adding that “problems started long before this in terms of structures of the Court and the way that student representation is treated.”
Cam Brown, Association President, told The Saint, “Following the Rector’s dismissal from the University Court, Your Union has been working closely with Stella to support her in continuing to provide pastoral care to students. This has included securing dedicated office space, re-establishing the Rector’s Committee, and hiring a Rector’s Vicarius (Assistant). At the same time, we’ve been collaborating with the University Court to address student concerns around representation. I’m pleased to share that we’ve reached an agreement around a proposal, and I look forward to sharing the details with our members soon, following [the] Court’s final approval.”
A University spokesperson said:
tor is the president of the governing body of the University and, as such, she ought not to have been seeking to drum up support for a campaign directed against the institution itself in which campaign she has a personal interest […] It was in Ms Maris’ own interest to encourage support for the open letter; it was contrary to the interest of the University.”
Maris denies this, stating, “[The University] interpreted it as an attack but what I was asking for was more representation from the students who elected me.” She continues, “There is a narrative of claiming to fear a black woman in a position of power, and framing her as, for example, inciting attacks, inciting violence that I do think runs through this in a way that’s not being addressed,” going on to call the University’s response to her statement about the graduations “racial stereotyping”.
Maris added, “So, for me to say, please provide more representation, let’s make it harder for them to ignore us — something I have evidence of them doing at the time — there is no way to reasonably interpret that as me calling my supporters to attack the University. I think it’s deeply irresponsible to have put out a statement like that about a highly visible black woman in this town.”
In response to her initial statement on the Israel-Palestine conflict, the University stated in November 2023: “We do not believe that the Rector intended to cause harm to students with her message.”
On the University Court, while the President of the Students’ Association and Director of Education serve as full-time members, there is currently no student representative in the form of the Rector or Rector’s Assessor. Vice-Principal Merrill justified the current absence of a Rector’s Assessor on the Court: “It was agreed to pause the recruitment of the Rector’s Assessor because it was felt inappropriate for that to carry on whilst there was a separate inquiry going on [...] [the] Court agreed, and Stella did not object
Regarding the role of the Rector, Maris argues that, while it is tied to University governance, the Rector is “supposed to be able to still challenge the University. Whatever they have done now is the manifestation of potentially problematic governance structures, rather than I think a rational, reasoned conversation about the nature of independence in student representation.”
“The role of the Rector is becoming a ceremonial role.”
Maris states that while rectors have been traditionally external to the University, more needs to be done to prepare them. She added, “My concern is that one of the reasons that [rectors] aren’t prepared for their role is because [...] it makes them more malleable.”
“The decision to remove me as President of Court and as a Charity trustee was incorrect and I think it does have a chilling effect on student representation because ultimately the students elect the Rector to the role of President. But also, I think that it has a chilling effect on the proper practice of university governance by charity trustees.”
Rectors at Other Scottish Universities: A rector is a position required by Scottish law for the four oldest universities in Scotland: Aberdeen, Glasgow, Edinburgh, and St Andrews. The current Rector of Glasgow is Ghassan Abu-Sittah who is a British-Palestinian surgeon and provided medical treatment in Gaza. He gave evidence to the International Court of Justice for South Africa’s genocide case against Israel. When he was installed as Rector on 11 April, 2024, in his opening speech he called the Israel-Gaza war a genocide fifteen times, and ended his speech saying “Hasta La Victoria Siempre”, meaning ‘Until Victory, Always.’
“It is false and misleading to imply that Ms Maris was discharged from [the] University Court because she spoke out against Israeli aggression in Gaza. The facts are that she was discharged because she repeatedly and knowingly placed herself in breach of her legal responsibilities as a Court member and charity trustee, not for expressing her political views.
“Court commissioned an independent investigation from Morag Ross KC, as she was then, to examine whether the Rector’s actions and activities were compatible with the responsibilities and standards placed on her as a member of Court, and the legal requirements of a charity trustee. Court unanimously accepted the findings of that investigation in full.
“Over a three-month period, exhaustive efforts were made to reach a resolution with Ms Maris which would have allowed her to remain a member of Court. Ms Maris was asked to acknowledge that some aspects of her behaviour had fallen below the standards expected of a Court member, to agree to be bound by the same obligations and commitments as other Court members and to apologise for the distress and fear experienced by some of the students she represents.
“Ms Maris, however, has repeatedly declined to clearly acknowledge and accept Ms Ross’s finding that she breached her responsibilities. She also declined to take up Court’s offer of facilitated discussion with an independent external mediator.
“Court’s decision has no bearing on Ms Maris’s freedom of speech, which has been acknowledged by the Court at every stage. Ms Maris remains with the role and title of the Rector, and the University has continued to offer her support to enable her to carry out her pastoral responsibilities towards the students she represents.
“For further details and a copy of the independent investigation carried out by Morag Ross KC (as she was then), please refer to the official statement.”
Current Rector, Stella Maris and Former Rector, Dr Leyla Hussein
Photos from University of St Andrews
Racing for a Cause
St Andrews Students Hitchhike to Budapest for Charity
CELESTE CHAVE News Writer
While many students spent their spring break unwinding at home or travelling for leisure, a daring group of St Andrews students embarked on an entirely different kind of adventure: hitchhiking across Europe to reach Budapest, relying solely on the generosity of strangers.
Race2, an annual charity hitchhiking event organized by the University’s Charities Campaign, challenges students to travel to a designated European city without spending money on transport. Participants must depend on spontaneous acts of kindness to cover the thousands of kilometers to their destination, resulting in unforgettable experiences and stories.
First launched in the early 1990s, Race2 has become a beloved tradition at St Andrews. Teams of two to three students race to the chosen destination, selected based on affordability and accommodation availability. Beyond the thrill of the race, the heart of the event lies in its mission to raise money for charity. Each participant must raise a minimum of £200 before departure, with all proceeds supporting three student-selected charities. This year, funds were distributed amongst Alzheimer’s Research UK, Solidaritee, and Richmond’s Hope.
covers hostel accommodation at the final destination, ensuring racers have a safe place to rest after their trek.
Racers employ innovative strategies to meet their fundraising goals, from bake sales to sponsored challenges. This year, one participant shaved their head, while another team set up a pop-up coffee shop to support their cause. Before the COVID-19 pandemic, Race2 consistently raised over £70,000 annually. This year, participants raised an impressive £59,104 — a sign of recovery toward pre-pandemic levels.
warned me about the dangers, and I had imagined all the worst-case scenarios.”
However, reflecting on the experience, she shared, “It was just all so positive.”
Patience and perseverance are key. Many racers highlight the difficulty of staying motivated in the face of repeated rejections.
“Trying to remain calm, confident, and positive despite numerous refusals was the hardest part,” said Illy from the Budabaddies team. Parie described moments of doubt: “At times, I felt like there wasn’t any light at the end of the tunnel.” But the excitement
we met so many generous, kind people.”
“At times, I felt like there wasn’t any light at the end of the tunnel.”
However, not all encounters on the road were without difficulty. Some participants reported moments of discomfort. While most people they met were welcoming, a few students of colour noted that securing rides sometimes took longer or that they encountered wary glances. One racer explained, “I definitely felt that some drivers were more hesitant with me compared to my white or white-passing teammates. It wasn’t overt discrimination, but it was something we noticed.”
“It was an amazing adventure and we met so many generous and kind people.”
To aid their journey, participants receive essential hitchhiking gear, including travel aids like language cards and foam thumbs. A participation fee
While hitchhiking may seem risky, Race2 prioritises safety through meticulous planning. Participants must check in every four hours (or every eight hours while resting) via an online system, allowing friends, family, and a dedicated safety team to track their journey. A 24/7 support team monitors these updates, ready to respond to emergencies. Automated alerts are triggered if participants use keywords such as “SOS” or “HELP,” ensuring swift assistance. Thanks to these measures, no major incidents have been reported since the event’s inception.
For many first-time participants, the idea of hitchhiking across Europe is daunting. Parie from the Szia On The Other Side team admitted, “Before the hitchhike, I was so nervous. So many people
of finally securing a ride and the support of teammates made the journey worthwhile.
Ronnie and Alex, who have participated three times as “Bananas on Tour,” even got matching Race2 tattoos this year to commemorate their adventures. They reflected, “Every time we got a ‘yes,’ spirits were boosted massively. Putting our trust in strangers and being rewarded with amazing stories was the best part.”
Their enthusiasm for the event remains unwavering: “It is the best part of our year!”
Skye, from the Budapest Best team, described her initial apprehension but was ultimately thrilled by the experience.
“I was nervous at the start, but now having done it, I would definitely do it again. It was an amazing adventure, and
Despite these moments, they emphasised that kindness ultimately prevailed. “The people who did stop for us reminded us that there is so much goodwill in the world.”
Beyond the competition, Race2 fosters deep friendships, resilience, and an appreciation for human kindness. Many teams document their adventures on social media, sharing realtime updates and engaging with supporters back home.
Parie, reflecting on the experience, described it as “surreal”—like something out of a dream. She returned with not only incredible stories, but also a renewed faith in humanity. “It showed me that there is goodness in the world. Not everyone is out to hurt you. There are kind people who genuinely want to help.”
For those considering taking on the Race2 challenge, be prepared for a rollercoaster of emotions. It will test your patience, endurance, and optimism. But one thing is certain — participants all agree that they have gained memories that will last a lifetime and a belief that even the smallest acts of kindness can make all the difference in the world.
Photo by Monty McNeil
Viewpoint
EDITOR: GEORGES TOULOUSE
Encounters with the Advocatus Diabolus
A report
on the most putrid species on Earth
ALEX MCQUIBBAN Viewpoint Writer
Debate plays an invaluable role in pluralist liberal societies; it’s the means by which old notions are challenged, and the crucible in which new ideas are forged. However, it also serves to expose the more unsavoury undercurrents which, left unchecked, threaten the foundations of these same societies. In short, we need debate – to promote the good, to expose the bad, to maintain the very institutions and social mores which allow for free debate in the first place.
Despite this sentiment being fairly straightforward, it is routinely misunderstood by those who view debate as an end-in-itself and not the means it truly is. These often rather disagreeable types go by many names — ‘terminal debater,’ ‘professional contrarian,’ ‘outrage merchant’ — but, out of respect, I’ll stick with the label these argument junkies so often apply to themselves: “devil’s advocate” — no affiliation to the Viewpoint column which bears the same name, whose quality is not subject to debate here.
Anyone who has had the misfortune of arguing with a self-described devil’s advocate likely recognises how perversely fitting that title is. That they almost invariably choose this label over any other might suggest an impressive level of selfawareness, if it weren’t for the fact that it disguises a much darker disposition. With them, the term ‘debate’ becomes a misnomer. Their ambushes rarely start off as well-intentioned constructive debates, nor do they ever develop the qualities of one either. Instead, the devil’s advocate (latin name: Advocatus diabolus) lurks around a pub, office party, christening, or other typically non-combative setting, stalking potential prey with baited breath (I say “its”, though “his” covers most cases.) Careful not to show its cards too early, it slowly closes in on an unsuspecting victim, lulling them into a false sense of security by engaging in light-hearted conversation. Once said conversation so much as brushes on a subject about which the devil’s advocate has a ‘hot-take’, it takes aim, selects its preferred offensive manoeuvre, and launches the opening salvo. Chief among its arsenal for baiting
unsuspecting victims are such cunning techniques as ‘fauxgreement’, ‘just-askingquestions’, and ‘sock-puppet Socrates’.
Fauxgreement, as the name suggests, involves initially agreeing with the sorry victim, only to undermine their point and derail the conversation entirely. The victim talks of the daily struggles of being a woman? Advocatus diabolus chimes in parroting exaggerated and almost parodic feminist rhetoric, only to slip in “of course, men have it really bad too.” The victim shares they’re taking a break from social media? Devil’s advocate commends them, launches into a soliloquy about
judge its victim as woefully unintelligent or intentionally obstructive if they don’t answer in exactly the way it wants.
Sock-puppet Socrates acts as a similar ‘get-out-of-jail-free’ card. Rather than presenting a shockingly ill-informed and wildly inflammatory take as its own, the advocate hides behind someone it thinks commands respect or authority (usually, Jordan B. Peterson or Nietzsche if Nietzche were made up exclusively of Nietzche’s worst-sounding quotes,) badly-paraphrased, of course. Curiously, the advocate believes it gets bonus points for subtly nuancing the thinker’s
Sensing defeat, it retreats behind one of its familiar smokescreens, resorts to mockery, or denies ever having taken its position seriously. If — perish the thought — its sensors malfunction, it simply plows on, claiming a pyrrhic victory when its exhausted victim inevitably withdraws, “a sure sign of intellectual inferiority” thinks the advocate. Yet I ask: what good is ‘winning’ an argument no one wanted to have?
Of course, it is unsurprising that Advocatus diabolus advocates in bad faith, after all the Devil is its client. But why does the advocate consistently offer its impassioned yet entirely pro-bono advocacy to the most ludicrous, inflammatory, and downright horrific clients? Is it out of a generous liberal spirit to diversify the marketplace of ideas? No, Advocatus diabolus doesn’t champion all fringes equally. Instead, it only defends the causes which feel most venomous, curiously selecting only those which suit its own reactionary temperament. Such is the reason we scarcely find self-proclaimed devil’s advocates for gender abolitionism, reparations, or land redistribution, yet there is always a veritable army of JAQ-offs fighting for traditional gender roles, vaccine scepticism, and ‘law and order’— all ironically (and regrettably) mainstream, mind you.
innocuously enough but soon betray its true intentions. “I’m just curious, what do you mean by ‘non-binary’?” quickly becomes “So, why define yourself according to a binary if gender is a spectrum, anyway?” — a fair question perhaps but deserving of a careful reply, which the poor trapped soul won’t be allowed to give, not uninterrupted anyway. If the victim displays even the slightest hesitation, resistance, or — God forbid — stutters in their reply, the JAQ-off deploys its cloak of curiosity: Advocatus diabolus is simply asking questions, it just ‘wants to know.’ Be assured it will
ensnared its hapless victim. It will continuously claim the purest of intentions yet invariably behave itself in a way that betrays its sinister disposition. It will seek to get a rise out of its victim, then charge them with being overly emotional; it will constantly change goalposts but force the victim to respond succinctly to complex pedantic inquiries; it will accuse them of committing all kinds of logical fallacies, yet drop slippery-slope after whataboutism. What’s more: Advocatus diabolus never loses — not by its own lights, anyway.
The hellish debater’s periodic emergence from its mancave might, on balance, be judged salutary, if only because this exposes its views to public scrutiny. Sunlight, after all, is the best disinfectant, and Heaven knows the Advocatus diabolus needs sunlight. But, it is equally true that mold thrives in the open air. Sometimes, dignifying the advocate with a platform simply normalises its opinions, allowing the weeds of its putrid perspectives to take root. Thankfully, the course of action is clear: when you spot a devil’s advocate, engage with caution, don’t fall for its tricks, and above all — if only for the sake of those around you — regularly monitor your symptoms. If you experience a sudden proclivity for polemics, abnormal appetite for argumentation, or distinctly foul odour, you might be afflicted. Trust me, you do not want to become a devil’s advocate, such a beast is better off extinct.
Illustration by Maya Mason
Devil’s Advocate
Is ‘high culture’ the most valuable form of art? NO 61% 39% YES
Valuable things demand work. Not necessarily manual labour, academic drudgery, or great suffering — but consistency and commitment. ‘High culture’ is seen as detached from everyday, pop culture, and that which is easily accessible because it demands our time and effort. The first things that spring to mind — opera, classical music and literature, renaissance paintings — carry connotations of elitism, exclusivity, and remoteness. Yet no matter how out of touch they might appear, the products of ‘high culture’ are rooted in reality. That they stand the test of time is evidence enough of their relevance and defends their survival.
High culture reflects the consciousness of a people or society, and without it, our cultural identities would be compromised. Those who create high culture are influenced by those creating ‘low culture’ and vice versa; the rise of the sensational nineteenth-century novel went hand in hand with the publishing of works of ‘high literature’ like Anna Karenina, works that go beyond entertainment to furthering what we understand about the world.
Why is it that, upon the rise of authoritarian regimes, the censorship of art, literature, and ideas, is so quick to take place? Undoubtedly, it is because they have power, serving not only as accomplished works of art, but instruments which change the very nature of our thought. Our ideas and actions are defined by what we engage with, and therein lies the potency of great literature, music, and art.
A repeated criticism of high culture is that it involves a degree of discrimination — cultures which prize often wealthy and patriotic artists from the upper echelons of society will always be, to an extent, elitist. But if we are to simply disregard everything that has, at some point in time, been seen as controversial or offensive, we would have no culture at all. ‘Low culture’ itself is not immune to this either — countless TV shows, films, and other aspects of pop culture from the last several decades have reflected racism, misogyny, and a plethora of other
problematic behaviours. High culture at least gives us the guarantee of greater meanings and morals attached to these works of art.
It is valuable because, as well as meaningful, it is beautiful. Several of the greatest architectural monuments and structures have been products of aristocracy — the Taj Mahal, commissioned by the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, Versailles built by Louis XIV — now visited of tourists every year. These may be steeped in the past and its implications of elitism and monarchy, but they never cease to fascinate and appeal to us. It is for this reason that we lament the rise of modern architecture at the expense of its traditional counterpart — any object’s origins do not change its intrinsic nature, and therefore an appreciation of high culture should not carry with it implications of disdain for other cultures or classes. I began this defence of high culture and its value by stating that valuable things demand work. Yet I concede that art is slightly different from work — it brings pleasure, too. That, perhaps, is one of its most striking qualities, and why it has had a hold on human civilisation from its earliest moments to the present day. However, the products of high culture do not really need defending — their very persistence throughout time is evidence enough of their sophistication and relevance.
I am tempted to remind you that sculpture used to be the highest art, while murals were no more than simple decoration on the walls of one’s house — today we visit Pompeii and marvel. Canvas paintings were once the poor man’s tapestry — so very impractical, your Leonardo doesn’t even capture the moisture of your stone house — now, you would be hardpressed to find anyone able to
deemed too ‘impure’ to be buried according to Catholic rites. Nowadays, who would dare say Molière or Shakespeare are not worthy of acclaim, praise, and did not make ‘valuable’ contributions to humanity’s artistic production? Are we to let the snobs of today, once the censors of yesteryear, declare what has value and what does not?
most uncultured similar evolutions could be found for the Impressionists, Picasso, the Delaunays, Pollock, I would continue but I wish to get to my point: don’t listen to the snobs. These people, self-proclaimed kingmakers in arts and culture, change their minds with the fashions, with what is deemed ‘acceptable’ — they have no more claim to deciding which art has value and which does not than anyone else. That power belongs to humanity as a whole. We forget that theatre used to be no more than entertainment, actresses likened to prostitutes, and many of its pioneers
Perhaps you think that calling it snobbishness is a bit harsh, but think about it: artistic productions deemed too ‘popular’, too “proletarian“ always go unvalued until it is embraced and overtaken by the snobs, and only then are they deemed ‘high’ art. TV shows used to be seen as low-quality entertainment in the pejorative sense. Nowadays, they have managed to get out of the pits of the ‘unserious’, and the quality of productions such as Mad Men or Normal People are recognised — yet it’s almost a given that they are the lesser brother of moving pictures.
The slow evolution of mentalities from the self-proclaimed clergy of intellect and good taste might one day apply to YouTube videos or, God help us, TikToks. We just don’t know. If the value attributed to art relies so much upon format, upon how ‘high’ or ‘low’ it is labeled, I say we should revolt against this disconnected elite. Why should we accept the diktats of the few when art belongs to us all? There is such a wealth of beauty to be found in what mankind has made, and will continue to make, with our hands and mind — it seems blatantly stupid to limit the amount we can take in because of an elitist hierarchy in art. Anything that makes you feel or think a certain way, is art, whether that thing is a movie, an opera, a TV show, or even a painting.
Illustration by Magdalena Yiacoumi
The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the authors. They do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of The Saint.
The Atlantic Is Widening
And it’s about time
LEWIS MCKINLEY Viewpoint Writer
The “special relationship” between the United Kingdom and the United States, a concept first coined by Winston Churchill in 1946, was meant to symbolise a deep cultural, political, and security bond. Churchill spoke of a “growing friendship and mutual understanding,” a partnership rooted in shared values and a commitment to global stability. Decades later, that socalled friendship looks increasingly onesided — a cycle of dominance and occasional reconciliation, with Britain cast in the role of the loyal but disrespected partner.
The Reagan-Thatcher era is often romanticised as a golden age of US-UK cooperation. They were ideological allies, united against Communism, and their relationship extended beyond the realm of politics into genuine personal friendship. Yet even then, the imbalance was clear. Reagan’s unilateral invasion of the Commonwealth nation of Grenada without informing Thatcher was a blatant show of disregard. His later apology — “we regret very much the embarrassment that’s been caused to you” — encapsulates this abuse: the US acts without consultation, Britain protests, an apology is issued, and things return to normal. Thatcher, ever the pragmatist, endured this humiliation and remained steadfastly loyal, famously calling Reagan “the second most important man in my life.”
This pattern has repeated itself over the decades, resembling an unhealthy relationship in which one partner exerts control, dismisses concerns, and expects unwavering loyalty. From Reagan ignoring British interests in Grenada to Bush pulling the UK into Iraq, and Trump publicly humiliating Theresa May with support for Boris Johnson while still in office, each instance follows a familiar script: Britain objects, America soothes with an apology or diplomatic gesture, and the status quo resumes — until the next transgression. The UK’s support for the invasion of Iraq, despite widespread public opposition, showed its willingness to back the U.S. even at great domestic and diplomatic cost. And what did Britain gain in return? A tarnished international reputation and a deepening sense of political disillusionment.
Like many toxic relationships, it is often the abusee, not the abuser, who must decide when enough is enough.
With Trump back in the White House, the power imbalance in the special relationship is once again on full display. His erratic leadership and America-first isolationism leave little room for meaningful diplomacy. While it’s true that Britain is geographically closer to the crisis in Ukraine, Trump has shown concerningly little consideration for the impact of his actions upon those living with a real fear of Russian expansionism. It’s
approach entirely at odds with Trump’s isolationist stance. Therefore, in this vein, the UK can no longer rely on the US to act as a stable, dependable ally. The days of Roosevelt and Churchill, Reagan and Thatcher, even Bush and Blair, are over. Britain must prepare to chart its own course.
The UK is not without leverage. While Trump loves to posture as a global strongman,
the US still relies on British intelligence, military coordination, and strategic oversight, particularly in monitoring Russian submarine activity in the North Atlantic and the crucial GIUK Gap, the gateway to American shores. Despite Trump’s threats and bombast, he hasn’t yet claimed Greenland, and still needs the UK’s help. Perhaps it’s time to flip the script. Let the special relationship become something America craves, not something it takes for granted. Britain should make it clear that its loyalty is not automatic, especially if the US continues to act as an unreliable or even adversarial partner. Starmer should therefore direct his attention where it pays off, reinforcing ties closer to home. The UK’s relationship with France, long marred by Brexit-related tensions, is slowly but surely on the mend.
The Economist notes that both nations now share a common political vision — “pragmatic moderates who hail from the centre-left.” Macron, who once appeared sceptical of Britain’s post-Brexit relevance, has described Starmer as “un décent guy.” Their renewed diplomatic efforts have already led to greater cooperation on Ukraine, and even some behind-the-scenes strategising on how to handle Trump. If both Britain and France are actively preparing for his unpredictability, that says everything. So perhaps the real “special relationship” Britain should cultivate is not with an unstable America, but with like-minded European allies. The US-UK bond may never truly break, but it doesn’t have to define Britain’s global strategy. For now, Britain should focus on doing what is right, rather than on appeasing the unpredictable prat throwing his toys out of the pram across the Atlantic. If Trump wants to burn bridges, Britain shouldn’t be standing there with a bucket of water.
Illustration by Magdalena Yiacoumi
Serial Griever
by Natasha Currie
If you had told me last year that I would become utterly obsessed with peat bogs to the point of adopting their colour palette into my wardrobe, I would have laughed and asked what a peat bog even was. Nonetheless, after taking part in a research internship exploring peatland restoration through the creative mode of soundscaping, I’ve discovered a whole new world of interdisciplinary academia that has me hooked. Whilst digging deeper into the roots of my sudden passion, I discovered the work of Dr Roxani Krystalli, a researcher from our own School of International Relations. Dr Krystalli studies love and care practices in the wake of loss and violence, topics that echo my experience of fragile peatland ecosystems and journeying through grief.
With support from the Scotland’s Future Series, Dr Krystalli launched “Growing Roots: Creating a Sense of Place,” a series of public conversations on how place shapes our sense of self, relationships, and creative work. “I really love public conversations and cherish that they get us out of our own heads and into a room together to ask questions, reflect, and share a bit of our stories,” she said. Loving a place, she also points out, means “being attuned to loss, from loss of habitats, species, and relationships.”
These questions are now central to her research with colleague Philipp Schulz as they explore how practices of love and care, including for nature and place, help people imagine lives in a world of loss. “When it comes to nature and place, that question means that we reflect on what it means to love and care for a vanishing world.”
When I asked about the connection between caring for places and self-care, Dr Krystalli reflected: “Both my research and my life experience suggest that paying close attention to forms of life, from birds to moss and trees to the sea, can create intimacy with a place. It can make us feel part of ‘the family of things,’ as the poet Mary Oliver put it. At the same time, I think it is worth looking past the frame of self-care to think about other forms of relation, such as stewardship, accompaniment, and curiosity. All of these open up a conversation, rather than primarily focusing on the human experience.”
For me, studying peatlands does exactly this, drawing my focus outward to an ecosystem that has existed long before me and will, I hope, outlast me. Caring for landscapes is about building relationships that ask us to listen, tend, and stay curious. Maybe it is these very lessons that will help us navigate both personal and climate grief as we move towards an uncertain future.
The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the authors. They do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of The Saint.
STELLA PAK-GUENETTE Viewpoint Writer
The transition from first to second semester is definitely a strange one. The early plunge into winter darkness, where the sun clocks out by 4pm, gets me every time. By December, both motivation and morale are on their last legs. Having had the misfortune of being assigned one of the last in-person exams, I can testify that calling the Fifan mid-December grim is an understatement. But coming back after the winter break, things felt different. St Andrews isn’t fully awake yet, but there are signs of an impending spring: slightly later sunsets, fewer scarves and layers, people lingering outside lectures for just a little bit longer.
Fife is starting to lighten up — literally and figuratively. The longer days, the occasional burst of Scottish sunshine, the way you can actually changing — it’s a soft nudge saying that the grim winter is finally over. It’s not that the workload gets any easier, or that impending deadlines magically vanish, but something about the shift in the weather makes the second semester feel more promising. The occasional UV 3 reading
Fife is in Flux!
and the ability to eat a Combini bowl in St Mary’s Quad without losing a finger means that spring has, in some capacity, sprung. People are shedding their coats (or unzipping them at the very least), pretending it’s warm enough to justify the choice.
The collective mood lifts too. The line at
quiet optimism everywhere. Conversations in the library to avoid working, half-hearted attempts at productivity becoming more common. The frantic pace of the first semester has slowed, replaced by something more subdued. When the sun doesn’t show up, it has a weird way of shrinking the town. Not much has changed, but after such a long winter, there’s a noticeable shift — even if it’s just in the way people move through the day. Second semester just feels more settled. Nothing seems too pressing anymore, the pressure to be constantly busy has faded. Though exams still loom, there’s something comforting about knowing that in just a few months, you’ll be somewhere else — home, travelling, working. The end of the academic year is closer than it seems, and maybe it’s that certainty which makes this semester feel so much more relaxed. I transition from winter grinch, clutching my hands together like a Victorian child while speed-walking back to Sallies, into someone who no longer fears the outside. My biweekly bunch of Tesco tulips has become a quiet constant — half because they brighten up my desk for a few days before they wilt, half because they make me feel like I have everything together. Even my Spotify ‘Daylist’ algorithm
seems to have gotten the memo and no longer recommending me ‘melancholic late winter night’ playlists. Instead, it’s pushing the ‘soft indie spring afternoon’ as if I’m emerging from hibernation, along with the rest of St Andrews. The dragging weeks of November have now disappeared into a blur of deadlines and half-made plans, and, somehow, it’s mid-March already. The town is alive again, and now, instead of winter blues, people are talking about which hot European city they’re heading to for spring break. Whether you’re in first year or fourth, leaving St Andrews is always a strange mix of relief and nostalgia. Stepping out of the bubble (to return to whatever version of a bubble exists at home) means saying goodbye to three streets, familiar faces, and the comforting rhythm of routine. But it’s not quite over yet— this is the time to enjoy the best stretch of the year, where everything seems to exist in a kind of in-between. Spring is in full swing even if the Scottish weather doesn’t always agree. The second semester is hitting its stride: routines are set, days are stretching out, the sun makes its grand return. Maybe that’s the thing about this time of year — you can see the end in sight (with many deadlines and exams), but there’s no rush to get there. In the meantime, it’s the calm before the storm.
Illustration by Magdalena Yiacoumi
The Ultimate Tourist Transport
SAFFRON ROWELL Viewpoint Writer
It is twilight in the city of Budapest. Despite the fact that it’s still early March, there is a warm hush in the air — earlier today it reached temperatures which Scotland hasn’t seen since August. By day, the light here has a bright silver tinge; right now the sky has transformed to an iridescent Prussian blue. The wind rushes through your hair, the hubbub of a foreign city rushes past you, flashes of baroque architecture pass in a blur. The hills are alive with the electric humming of your Lime scooter.
“The lime scooter has come to typify the European city break.”
There is no better way to travel. You are the embodiment of speed, of elusive cool. As you pass a local couples you slow to
shout back to your friends. The man takes note of you and turns to his wife, switching from Hungarian to English to say “I f*cking hate tourists”. And then the spirit of elusive cool crumbles around you. You are now nothing more than a typical tourist stirring irritation into the consciousness of the city.
Okay sure, the dissappeal is easy to sympathise with. To resident city dwellers, scooterers must be nothing more than stinging green ants, clogging the streets as they speed through, leaving lines of chaos trailing in their wake, dirt kicked up on a loose gravel road. To people who live with them, the novelty must wear off, leaving in its place a grim and faded annoyance.
Nevertheless, the Lime scooter has come to typify the European city break. They bring a holiday right to its core: new experiences, sparkling joy, flashes of a city, and throbbing streams of sound. They are the most effective form of tourist travel. Unlike the metro, they offer you views of the streets you travel through; faster and cheaper than a taxi, and perhaps most importantly they’re a break from the exhausting and
endless walking which sightseeing entails. Are Lime scooters not the ultimate doorway into any new city, any new place? Whilst scooting from your hostel on Pest side to the river Danube, a movie montage scene unfolds before you. You witness the broad glamour of Fashion Street, the domineering towers of St Stephen’s Basilica, the cool marble floors of Heroes Square, the grandeur of Parliament Hall. Blue light fades to black around you, the streets are lit orange by ornate lamps whose sole purpose is guiding you to your destination. Ordinary walkers swim in the dust behind you, outraced by your effortless speed. And scooters will always embody the whimsy of childhood. They offer a return to naïveté with the novelty of their movements. The joy of feeling faster, cleverer, more fun than everyone around you is something generally cut off to those over the age of ten. They provide a sacred bubble of insight into the magic which an ordinary night can provide.
Plus, there is some small element of danger in reaching the extraordinary
speeds of fifteen miles per hour in a place unknown, flitting between main roads, cycle paths, and pedestrian walkways. For some the instability of a two wheel ride must be too much to handle. Disaster will undoubtedly ensue. Not for you though. For you, the danger is no more than a complement to the freshness of a novel area, the strangeness of the views you pass, the bizarre sounds of a language only clumsily practiced beforehand. You are the God of this foreign city, astride your noble steed of green metallic speed.
Is this not the sole purpose of a get away holiday, to have a break from your everyday responsibilities, the burdensome yoke of your part time job, the Sisyphean boulder of that next essay due, the everyday human oppression of walking from A to B? Scooting creates a journey out of a destination. It frees you from your mortal woes. So, I rest my case: the Lime scooter is the ultimate addition to any holiday. As you scoot to your next stop, I guarantee that your worries will scatter behind you, bouncing across the pavement like loose Forint coins.
The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the authors. They do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of The Saint.
Deep that Drink
The struggle of self-discovery and womanhood
GAYATRI CHATTERJI Viewpoint Writer
I’m going to be honest. I’ve done some really stupid s**t in my time. Maybe it was something about getting to university which unveiled this degenerate side of me — assimilating into a student culture here which glamourised vices and ‘feral’ behaviour. Whether it was a feminist outburst of asserting my freedom to drink and smoke, my sexual liberation, or an outlet for frustration of my comparatively repressed past, it’s a lifestyle I began to imbibe.
In my head, it was behaviour longaccepted and almost idolised in, and among men. In the past few decades, among the more liberated, it’s become attractive amongst women too — this ‘I don’t care’ attitude of engaging in ‘frowned upon’ activities as a rebellion. It was attractive to me, to live by the very simple belief that any action or behaviour acceptable from a man should be acceptable from a woman. It was attractive, the freedom to assert this kind of staunch feminism, coming from a culture in which patriarchal and conservative values always seemed to linger in the background.
Unfortunately, but not shockingly, this attitude led me to a rude awakening: our conception of ‘modernity’ exists
only in theory, and does not reflect the reality of how we’re really socialised. to escape
my whole life — may respond to insecurity with this ‘I don’t care’ attitude. In an ideal
that you
should have been in control and you weren’t, you can only blame yourself. Those who know me may think I’m ‘deeping it’ all a bit too much, particularly my friends who have grown up in cultures where this is a normal part of being silly and young. For someone who has lived the ‘party animal’ student lifestyle, nothing about my life is abnormal, it might even seem relatively tame. I can count on one hand the amount of truly debauched experiences I’ve regretted, most of which I would attribute to the inherently gendered aspects of intimacy. Nothing can minimise the extent to which I feel that drinking can put women in situations where issues of consent, urges, and power structures feel nebulous. This is especially hard to navigate when, at the end of the day, the responsibility falls entirely upon us. With that being said, nothing truly catastrophic has happened, and maybe I ought to have a tougher attitude, practise what I preach, and enjoy my life. As I write this, I have no intentions of quitting big nights out or the odd pint. But I am realizing that we can’t always be proud of the way imbibing this ‘uni lifestyle’ makes us, and protecting our true character is more important than the one we’ve always wanted to have.
The North Sea: a New Mediterranean?
MISTRAL ZERBI
Viewpoint Writer
It is amusing, being from the Mediterranean, to witness how the world has begun to glamourise our lifestyle. Back in France, my friends and I used to idealise the United States for its work opportunities, lavish lifestyle, socialite culture, and ambitious mindset. Somehow, it felt like the epitome of success. Now, it seems we have made a full 180-degree turn, rebranding what was once dismissed as a “lazy European lifestyle” into the highly desirable “slow life.”
At its core, the slow life is about rediscovering small pleasures — a healthy work-life balance, good food, a glass of wine at the end of the day, standing on a balcony to enjoy the sun, enjoying a meal out without it costing a fortune. St Andrews is cold, darker for most of the year, and, let us be honest, the food is arguably a bigger issue than the weather. And balconies — oh, balconies! I firmly believe they should be a communal right rather than a privilege, yet here, people can barely open their
windows because of the security restrictors.
Despite our complaints, associating the slow life solely to a few places in the world sets ourselves up for failure. The slow life is not a geographical reality — it is a state of mind. Of course, eating out cheaply and sunbathing with a morning coffee may not be the easiest luxuries to replicate in St Andrews, but the slow life is not about where you are, but how you live. It is easy to embrace it for a week in Rome, but if you return to St Andrews and immediately succumb to stress because “it is just too stressful not to do anything” then you will miss out on the true benefits of the slow life, which has to do with stress-management.
Let’s be honest, we all return from reading week somewhat relieved to be back in the library and feeling productive. But this is precisely the mindset that allows us to be happy and relaxed only for a few days a year. Do not get me wrong, everyone has to study hard, find a job, and figure out what they want to do with their lives. And sometimes slowing down only makes one anxious about not working towards
those goals. But that is exactly why getting accustomed to the slow life and using it as a healthy mechanism is necessary.
“The slow life is not a geographical reality — it is a state of mind.”
Consider this: if you accelerate a car for an extended period and then suddenly slam the brakes, the car will eventually break down. On the other hand, if you drive at a steady pace and slow down gracefully when needed, you ensure that you won’t crash. If we spend an entire semester accelerating without pause, only to then suddenly shut down for a week during spring vacation, we risk burning out rather than recharging. Keeping a steady rhythm, with moments of rest integrated into our routine can better help us stay focused, and probably keep us more cheerful.
St Andrews has its own potential for a slow life. The pubs, the colourful March sunsets, the sunny days of spring, and the beautiful coastline all offer moments to pause and appreciate life. It took me three months to discover that two pubs here serve a decent Aperol Spritz, and now that I’m in the loop, I let myself indulge in a little Italian bliss in the evenings, thinking of home. But this applies to everyone, your own slow life can be found anywhere. Step out of the library, and you are immediately on Market Street, where infinite possibilities for a happy hour or a coffee break await. And if you are in search of something special, walk just a tad past Tesco, and enter the cathedral known as Taste of Scotland for some of the best French Malbec in town — for those moments when you need to rediscover the existence of flavour. Studying hard does not exclude the possibility of slowing down every once in a while, and you do not need to book a weekend in Spain to do so. I will be at Keys right after the library for an Aperol hour — and as we say in the South, Qui m’aime me suive!
Illustration by Calum Mayor
No Sex Please, We’re British
We should be proud of being prudes
SUNAA AHMED Viewpoint Writer
There’s nothing quite like the silence that follows the appearance of a sex scene on our family’s television screen. They always come out of nowhere. The couple in question are simply holding hands, smiling at each other as they share a bottle of wine over a quiet dinner. A moment later, clothes are being ripped off bodies, the screen becomes a blur of jiggling flesh, and the sound of heavy breathing takes over the living room. My family’s reaction is always the same. My father loudly clears his throat, having found something of inordinate interest in last week’s paper, my sister and I grimace in a moment of shared panic, and my mother, worst of the lot, scrambles for the remote in the hopes of (at best) turning it down, (at worst) flicking onto another channel. For once, this seems to be a problem that extends beyond my family. Friends, cousins, neighbours report symptoms of the same crippling awkwardness whenever a moment of intimacy flashes up on their television. Some can trace the origins of childhood trauma back to the evening they stayed up past bedtime and Naked Attraction appeared on the screen before anyone could stop it. A breast here, a buttock there, and Britain is a nation in tatters. How intimacy became our collective Achilles’ heel I cannot say, but four years
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Whine and Dine
Why excessive complaining kills
SAM SPENDLOVE
Viewpoint Writer
I’ve often said I speak ‘anecdotally.’ When I make my points, I pull from personal experience. In a kind of storytelling format, I usually open with a story and then I try to universalise; if I’m contributing to a conversation it’s usually in the form of a tiny story. It’s spectacular for me when something interesting happens because it’s a new story to tell: you can catch me teeming with delight as I recount how the hairdresser’s assistant who washed my hair inexplicably knocked on my forehead twice (à la “Hey, open the door!”) while I was in the chair.
But my anecdotal disposition has its drawbacks. The most significant is, by far, my over-complaining. When I’m out of interesting material I stall like an engine, recycling mundane complaints into little
at a multinational university have taught me this is a distinctively British problem.
Take group changing as an example. Being English, I change in an intensely priggish way, looking around me carefully to see if I’m out of eyeline, scuttling into a corner in the hopes of retaining my modesty. In my second year, I even had a wardrobe that doubled up as a changing cupboard, my own private sanctuary if the room got too crowded. The contrast with my two European housemates was stark. The notion of hiding didn’t even cross their minds, and body parts were displayed in a blaze of Continental confidence that left me and fellow Brits stunned. They reported that this was nothing out of the ordinary. All their friends, even friends’ parents, had seen them naked at one time or another. In summer, skinny-dipping was a must, and if someone happened to film the diving, all the better. I was presented with a video of four German bottoms flinging themselves into a swimming pool and was left speechless. In no situation could I see the moment recreated with the friends I had grown up with.
but transpose romance to the outside world and you are faced with a fear that borders on the phobic. Public displays of affection, unless performed when inordinately inebriated and/or at the back of a sweaty club somewhere, are about as un-British as you can get. A couple holding hands,
a corner of the library and had to excuse myself. The revulsion I feel is so visceral I hardly even notice its arrival. Afflicted by my British heritage, prudishness appears to be written in my DNA.
The problem extends to intimacy. Inside the bedroom, I suppose, we are no different to our Continental neighbours,
anecdotes that don’t do all that much for anyone. The weather’s bad; the wind is cold; the road’s being worked on; the bus is slow; one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish — and by the way, seafood is just awful. Someone asks me how I am and, for whatever reason, I suddenly have nothing good to say; my automatic response is to cast my day in the worst light possible. I walk up to people, and other people walk up to me, and the only small talk we can seem to generate stems from petty inconvenience or laughable mistakes.
Maybe my anecdotal talking style is a product of its time. I’ve noticed that the tendency to complain, especially about little things, is widespread amongst people my age. Petty complaining is everywhere, and it’s drying out conversations like grapes: all we’re left with are raisins. It’s almost like anecdotal speech has mutated into live content creation: this is what happened to me, isn’t that relatable, attractive, important, exciting? Isn’t it kinda quirky that I can’t handle this, that I’m at the end of my rope?
perhaps pecking each other on the cheek, is tolerable, but one step into the realm of snogging and the Brit is out of there. Yet in the melting-pot world of St Andrews, the same rules don’t always apply. More times than I would care to say have I stumbled across an American couple canoodling in
Spiritual, Not Secular On the Diversity of Irreligion
TRUMAN CUNNIGHAM Viewpoint Writer
For my irreligious readership, how likely are you to use the term ‘atheist’ to describe your beliefs? Or, more broadly, what do you think about ghosts, astrology, psychedelic drugs, or transcendental meditation? We seem to believe that modernity is not religious, because we don’t often see religion as it was once practiced. Instead, we assume that citizens of Western countries are enlightened materialists, interested in scientific truth, with no mind for superstition. It may indeed be the case that institutional religion has fallen to the wayside, but interestingly, so has scientific atheism. Most people, in fact, are caught in between the two.
In Britain, for example, about 38% of people claimed “no religion” on the 2021 census. Godless Scotland claimed an even higher percentage, at about 51%.
A recent trip to sex-positive Berlin opened my eyes to a whole new world. There, couples love and lust after one another with brazen confidence, so lost in each other they can’t see anyone else. Sometimes, for me at least, it is too much. Fondling under any form should always be kept in the bedroom. But perhaps we Brits go too far in our rejection of intimacy, robbing ourselves of the joy that should come with being in love, or even just that of being naked. No, spooning in public is not for me, and there is almost no situation in which I could face West Sands in my birthday suit, but there is nothing wrong with embracing a smidgeon of Continental confidence. In the spirit of sex positivity, perhaps leave Naked Attraction on next time it pollutes your screens. Between the fits of tortured giggles, you might just find yourself surprised.
by Holly Ward
Wear Your Sambas on the Road Less Traveled
DANIEL SPEZIO
Guest Contributor
I first learned the divine law of supply and demand from my fourth-grade history textbook. It clicked pretty easily, seemed pretty straightforward. But today, I realized it must not have settled in. Since December of 2023, I’ve owned a pair of low-top Saucony Jazz Courts, all white with black soles. No shoe I’ve ever owned has been quite like them. I’ve had the Club C 85’s, I’ve had the Continental 80’s (those were pretty great), I’ve had the Forums and I’ve even gone so far as to try on my dad’s Stan Smiths. And all but the latter I’ve worn until I could no longer. My friends - they say - “dude they’re literally all the same f****ing shoe”. They know nothing. And they never could know that nothing — nothing — compares to the Jazz Court. So today [...] I decided I would do something I’ve never done before. I would go back to buy the same model.
Illustration
“Using
MRUNMAYI KAMERKAR
Features Writer
Some names have been changed.
EDITOR: SIMON EZRA JACKSON
Black Bodies To Convey Diversity”
Inside the CATWALK backlash
researched the term to find that wasn’t really the case. “That was, I’d say, when the first alarm bells started going off.”
“Part of the reason CATWALK gets called out and caught out is because they’ve done something explicitly, whereas other shows are regularly doing it in subtle ways that are just infuriating to us.” Like many within the St Andrews student body, Isaac Pickrum, a member and former president of the St Andrews AfricanCaribbean Society (ACS) has a lot to say about Catwalk 25. To Pickrum, however, it’s important to highlight that CATWALK is just a small part of a wider problem.
On 25 January, CATWALK announced the theme for their annual charity fashion show. In a post captioned, “One ever feels his two-ness, two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body,” they revealed their theme of double consciousness. The quote is from the African American civil rights activist W.E.B. DuBois — except, it’s incomplete.
“I was looking at this quote, and I was like, no, no, no, that’s not it,” Pickrum said. In between “his two-ness” and “two souls” should be the words “an American, a Negro”.
Over the past month, CATWALK has faced backlash for their theme from groups like ACS and the wider student body. They have since removed their promotional material, posted an apology, taken down said apology, and announced a new theme. I spoke to Pickrum to explore the idea of double consciousness, why it didn’t belong on the CATWALK runway, and how this instance speaks to general racism within the St Andrews fashion show scene.
“That was [...] when the first alarm bells started going off.”
“I’d never heard of double consciousness before,” Damien, a second-year model for CATWALK, told me. When the CATWALK committee presented the theme to the models, they mentioned its racialised origins but said it had a broader meaning beyond race. Damien went home and
Through double consciousness, DuBois describes the experience of African Americans who did not choose to go to the United States. When they were emancipated, they were emancipated into the state which enslaved them, confronted with all of the social stereotypes and pressures of the oppressive white society. Double consciousness captures an identity caught between being African and American while never fully being either.
Pickrum described the frustration that this wasn’t being interpreted in the correct way or even a genuine way. Rather, that it was simply being used to “bolster the aesthetic visions of a certain show [...] [and] that really does take away from the legacy of what’s being discussed”.
For the models, there was confusion paired with a feeling of helplessness. “I was definitely confused. I knew it was a fundamentally African American concept, and they mentioned that in the briefing as well. So I was certainly a bit hesitant, but it seemed like they’d done the research and I felt like it wasn’t my place to speak out,” Avery, a fourth-year CATWALK model, told me. “I think I talked to two other models who were also concerned about the theme like I was, who were questioning if it was the place of a mostly white committee with no African Americans to be making this choice. But, like myself, they didn’t feel like it was their place to say anything about it.”
is not synonymous with duality or selfconsciousness, which I think is really what they were getting at. And I think those were really good themes. The issue was simplifying DuBois’ concept in order to make a certain argument — undermining the histories of colonial violence and enslavement tied to it. There was just something lost in translation between understanding that concept in the academic sense and then transposing it onto a fashion show.”
Damien expressed frustration at the way CATWALK’s committee handled the situation. “We’re meant to have a photo shoot in two days. Somebody messaged today asking if we’re still doing that, and they were like, ‘Yeah, please come along if you can.’ It just feels like they want to gloss over all that has happened.”
After ACS posted a statement critiquing CATWALK’s use of double consciousness, representatives from both committees sat down to discuss the situation.
“It was clear in that meeting to us that they did not understand double consciousness,” Pickrum explained. “Double consciousness
of CATWALK,” Damien said. When anyone goes on to the CATWALK Instagram, they see the models; in the magazine, they see the models; during the fashion show, they see the models. “If we’re taking part in that, the creative decisions of other people are reflecting on our persona.”
For Pickrum, CATWALK’s theme led to important conversations on a broader culture of fashion shows perversely using black aesthetics. “What I mean is using black bodies to convey diversity, using black music like hip hop to convey coolness,
“It just feels like they want to gloss over all that has happened.”
using aspects that can be attached to black fashion [...] to sort of also convey coolness or something synonymous.”
“I’m not suggesting that those things need to be policed, but really the problem is that those things are used and pandered without those spaces respecting black people,” explained Pickrum. Many shows don’t invest in the right supplies or expertise for makeup for black models, for example. Similarly, Avery described doing her own hair, owing to similar concerns: “Last year I was quite worried about it so I left my natural hair for the entire show.”
“CATWALK is not even the tip of the iceberg in terms of the cultural insensitivity problem at the Uni,” Pickrum said. “Fashion shows insert models of colour in a perverse way. It’s essentially to augment and highlight white beauty standards, which I think is really weird. I say that both as a cultural critic, but also having heard people on the committees express this directly to other people.”
“It can be really difficult for people of colour to just go into an industry, which, for however long, has basically just been white people,” Avery said. “Not just the models, but also the people behind the scenes — the crew, the committee. Being diverse is really important; I think slowly but surely that can encourage people of all ethnicities, genders, sizes to join.”
“I’d really like to see, in a few years, the committee of CATWALK take what’s happened this year and use that to build a more inclusive space for everybody who’s involved.” Damien imagines a process where committees reach out to groups like the Disabled Students’ Network, BAME Student Network, and Saints LGBT. “We want to make our show more inclusive, how would you recommend that we go about making sure that the people that you fight to represent can be represented on our stage?”
The CATWALK committee did not respond to The Saint’s requests for comment.
Illustration by Calum Mayor
ISABELLA CHECKLEY
Features Writer
Last June, I decided to ditch social media. ‘Are you sure?’ asked my phone each time. Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok disappeared from my homescreen.
These days, unplugging from the internet is like being exiled to the middle of the Pacific. Why on earth would anyone want to maroon themselves?
Well, I’m a proud castaway. By watching people on my screen living their lives, had I been forgetting to live my own?
To get answers, I spoke to both the unplugged and proudly-pluggedin, as well as a behavioural scientist from the University of Glasgow.
After speaking to Cole Rees, a former study-abroad student from Boston, my efforts to disconnect were quickly put to shame.
“I had an iPhone, but when I had it, I would continuously deactivate my Instagram, then reactivate it. Then, eventually, I just deactivated it and never reactivated it again. I still had Snapchat, though, and then when I got home from being abroad in St Andrews, I traded my iPhone in for a flip phone,” he recalled, holding up his new Y2K artefact to the camera.
Log Off To Lock In Should
you do a digital detox?
“It all just felt so fake to me,” Rees explained. “Your Instagram just feels like a separate identity that you have to keep up.” The introduction of Instagram reels “pushed [him] over the edge.” He’d already deleted TikTok but now found Instagram was becoming another short-video clone. “It’s just like an addiction,” he said.
“The biggest thing I’ve notices is how ingrained this is in our lives.”
Rees is a “very anxious person” — he reckons that played a role in shaping his attitudes to social media: “When I’m seeing what other people are doing all the time I get a lot of FOMO.”
Rees has had a smartphone from the age of ten — losing it has taught him a lot. “The biggest thing I’ve noticed is how ingrained all this is in our lives. For instance, now I often can’t even access the
menu in a restaurant because it requires you to scan a QR code,” he laughed. Rees also recognised the more serious challenges of spurning the smartphones. He’s going to move to Madrid; he’ll have to get a phone then. “It will just make my life impossible if I don’t have one.”
Like many social media sceptics, Rees believes that by living chronically online, “we have become so detached from the understanding of what actual life is.”
His only regret? Not being able to get rid of his laptop, too. “It feels somewhat like a backdoor. In an ideal world, I think I’d just have a landline.”
Whilst Rees may be content with just a landline, Bonnie White, a thirdyear Management and Sustainable Development student is certainly not. To her, social media is a “positive outlet. It’s always been a creative base.”
Unlike Rees, she doesn’t see her online presence as a “fake reality”. “Yes, my life might be like that a lot of the time, but these are the things I like to do, and so I’m going to post that part of my life online,” she said.
White was of a similar age to Rees when she first downloaded Instagram. When it came to TikTok, though, she wasn’t so keen. “I resisted TikTok until after lockdown. People would always complain about how
much time they wasted on it, and I didn’t want to be like that. However, that being said, I had my reservations about BeReal, refusing to download it until maybe seven months into the trend, but I love BeReal now.”
White’s initial reservations about TikTok haven’t stopped her using the platform. “My first video was a singing video, which did quite well,” she recalled.
Like Rees, it seems White also believes that “personality” plays an important role in one’s overall experience of social media. “It really depends what kind of person you are,” she said.
“I’ve never felt addicted,” she said. “If I feel as though I’m spending too much time on [social media], I’ll just put my phone down. I’ve never felt the need to delete any of my platforms.”
White credits her former school for fostering this. “We had our phones taken away every day, but nobody cared because we were all in the same boat. Nobody was glued to their phones — it was a good environment.”
Active social media use has also landed White some pretty cool brand partnerships. “When I was doing all the ‘Bonnie’s Blog’ stuff during lockdown, I had a partnership with Shake Shack. They’d send me food for me and my family, which was lovely.”
Beyond burgers, her Instagram blog also attracted the attention of non-alcoholic gin companies, as well as opportunities to create content for other users. “I’ve had offers to create videos for other people and do other peoples’ social medias,” she recounted.
However, it hasn’t been all sunshine and pixelated rainbows for White. When one of her TikTok videos went viral, she saw the sinister side of social media.
“I started getting very weird messages from people I didn’t know, and it just made me feel so uncomfortable,” White recalled. “My biggest battle is that there comes a point where I get scared of how public [social media] can become.”
Despite this, social media gets a thumbs up from White, although she remains conscious that, unfortunately, it doesn’t come without “some huge privacy problems”.
It was now clear to me that ditching social media worked for some but not for others, but where did this leave me? Turning to the experts, I spoke with Dr Jo Inchley, a behavioural scientist and public health
researcher at the University of Glasgow. In 2020, Inchley, alongside colleagues, conducted a study into online teens. The study didn’t condemn all social media usage, but rather distinguished between ‘intense’ usage and ‘problematic’ usage.
“An intense user is someone who is pretty much online all the time, communicating with others throughout the day,” she explained, “whilst a problematic user is completely reliant on social media and struggles to regulate their usage.”
What they found was surprising: “The negative effects aren’t really as expected. In a country like the UK, where there’s high social media use, what we see is that intense users are more likely to report higher social wellbeing.”
“What emerged is that we have to accept digital technology as part of our lives. It’s less about social media use as an exclusively bad thing, and more about helping young people to recognise when it’s problematic,” Inchley explained.
She also confirmed the link with personality: “What we see in terms of mental health outcomes is the interaction between the individual, their behaviour, and their social environment.”
“I started getting very weird messages from people I didn’t know.”
Looking forward, she believes that “there’s no point blocking [social media] off as though it doesn’t exist.” Instead, “we must educate children in digital literacy so that they have the tools to navigate digital spaces better.”
Almost ten months into this offline experiment, I can certainly say that I feel different. In some ways, it feels as though a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, but, in others, I can’t help feeling that perhaps I’m missing something.
Is unplugging worth the trouble? Rees felt so: “I just want to live in the moment.”
Although perhaps using social media and ‘living in the moment’ aren’t mutually exclusive. The experts say “it’s not all bad,” and whilst going “cold turkey” might work for some, as Inchley pointed out, “there’s no evidence to say that that’s a positive strategy for everyone.” Indeed, “we all just need to find our own way through.”
Illustration by Isabelle Holloway
Spring (E)vac(u)ation?
Vacation-stayers on St Andrews’ jet-setters
SOPHIE ROSE JENKINS Features Writer
Amidst the flurry of sun-filled social media stories and snarky inside-joke captions, it’s easy to forget about those who stayed behind for spring vacation. Instead of jetting off to beaches and cities, they spent their week in the shadow of the cathedral ruins on a much more windy coast.
For some, travelling to mainland Europe at any opportunity is a guaranteed aspect of university life here, with flights costing a fraction of some international students would be paying to travel from home. For others, though, money is a sensitive topic. Life skills can be learnt in any country, and budgeting is key — especially for students.
I talked to Nico Saintfort, a first-year from Miami who was reluctant to travel again after visiting Oslo last semester: “I came here to get a really good education, and it seems people just came here to travel. Their grades are not the best [...] They’ve got no plans in the future and they’re pretty much just jobless.”
“I think they [travel] because they have the money — a lot of money,” he added. “I’ve overheard some people in MacIntosh [Hall] say how they asked for an extra thousand pounds this week for allowance.”
Eleanor White, a third-year from Berkshire, England, also thought of the logistics of travelling: “It takes me eight, nine hours to travel back home by train, it’s expensive, and also I had an essay due that I felt I wouldn’t be able to do at home.”
Amirah Khatoon, a first-year medic, agreed. “There was no option for me to go anywhere.”
Saintfort highlighted the importance of
“It seems people just came here to travel [...] they’re pretty much jobless.”
staying for his own peace of mind. “Some people left Thursday night and skipped Friday’s classes, then came back Monday morning, and I guarantee they got no work done [...] I can only imagine what’s going through their head right now.”
White and Khatoon both would have traded their week for time at home if they were able. Saintfort, however, made £400 from working over vacation week and wants to spend that money to travel. I asked where he wanted to go. “Pretty much anywhere that’s the cheapest. I look on Ryanair and I’m like, ‘What is the cheapest flight?’”
The element of privilege associated with these trips was not lost during our conversations. TUI, a tourism company, estimates an average of £1,000 in spending money alone for a four-person, five-day trip to Lisbon. “There’s a certain level of privilege to be able to, as a group, go on holiday abroad,” White told me. “It gives them
a level of prestige or experience that you might feel like you don’t have if you haven’t been able to experience all of those things.”
Of course, these trips do not come without their own online souvenirs: Instagram posts. Khatoon didn’t think her fellow students’ glossy feeds told the full story about their trips abroad: “I don’t think it’s an accurate depiction of someone’s life, you can’t tell anything.”
“It’s just another influx of people going on ski holidays,” White said.
Perhaps the St Andrews stayers were the ones we should envy — not only did they catch up on work whilst saving money, but they avoided the stress of scheduling every minute of their day to finish their spring break bucket list.
The peace of the town was a welcome break from how cramped it can usually feel too. “It’s quite a peaceful time, just a time to refresh,” White told me. “Sometimes you forget that you’re living in St Andrews, and it’s quite a nice place.”
None of the three that I talked to regretted staying in St Andrews. Focussing on her studies made it worthwhile for Khatoon: “It was quite nice that I was able to get on with that.”
The main benefit of staying behind during vacation week, according to White? “You can definitely get a seat in the library.”
Snooze and Tell: @saintssleeping on St Andrews’ Sleepiest Students
Maria Ebrahim
It’s a frigid February night. You’re sitting on the top silent floor of the Main Library, debating if another energy drink will get you through this strenuous deadline. As a quick escape, you open Instagram, only to be met with a startlingly familiar face: your own. Last night’s tequilafueled antics have landed you slumped over a Union chair, and thanks to a quick-thinking friend, you’re now the latest feature on @saintssleeping... continued online
Sunrise Shenanigans with Yogi Soc
Sarah Hassanein
Have you ever wanted to do yoga with dogs? Or try it during a sunrise on East Sands? Or maybe even in the castle? Luckily for you, St Andrews Yoga Society offers these classes right on campus. Along with the usual ten classes per week, Yogi Soc collaborates with other societies, like Dog Walking Soc, to bring fun events like doggy yoga to St Andrews...continued online
On Cue with PoolSoc Ciara Wheeler
How would the St Andrews Pool Society describe their sport to an alien? “Grab a stick, look at the ball, shoot it in the pocket,” says Franni Elekes, PoolSoc President. “Balls in holes,” Christopher O’Brien, PoolSoc Vice President, tells me. “That’s become our motto,” Elekes adds. Pool is an understated staple of our university’s social scene...continued online
“I
Remember The Bullets” Simon Ezra-Jackson
“I remember running away from my village, Samu to Yatta, because the bombardments start[ed] early in the morning.” This was a year before the 1967 Arab-Israeli war — Saleh Safi was eleven. “What they’ll do,” he said, “they’ll bombard the village, so people will run away, and then they’ll go into the village, and they blow [up] a hundred house[s] [...] then they’ll go back. They’ll kill anyone on their way.”...continued online
Image from Wikimedia Commons
Change of the Seasons
ACROSS
1 What homeowners’ may do in spring?
6 Basks in the sun
10 “Sure...”
14 Hold, in Hamburg
15 Plant used on burns
16 Backtalk
17 Online business, for short
18 Cat sound
19 Up to the task
20 Time to wear green at Molly’s
23 Finger of the foot
24 Norwich School abbr.
25 Set of eight
28 Saint, without vowels
29 Nike slogan ending
32 December 24th, for example
33 Yellow Spring blooms
37 Blood flow system
38 Head motion to greet a friend
39 Vietnamese dress
40 Norwegian village
41 Baking meas.
42 Cotswolds’ horse race
44 Largest travel company in the world
45 Homes for cubs
46 Sailor’s “yes”
47 Disney-owned broadcast network
49 Measurement of your time on Earth
50 A-flat minor
53 Time to play a prank
58 Mallorca, for ex.
60 Tower in chess
61 “Word on the street is”
62 Guinea’s neighbor
63 Mamma Mia group
64 Van Gogh trait
65 Bastard of Corlys Velaryon
66 In everyone’s buisness
67 You are here
Anagrams: Flowers
by Julia Emery
DOWN
1 Treasure holder
2 Milk prefix
3 Run off to wed
4 Razor brand
5 Roman god of the sea
6 90’s ‘So Into You’ artist
7 Famous Baldwin
8 Cranny precursor
9 Constructs with fabric
10 Newton’s first name
11 Tooth fairy’s currency
12 Non-native speaker in UK
13 When repeated, a fly
21 Follow your steps
22 Dash counterpart
26 Seattle Storm’s Westbrook
27 Morning hour
28 One reason for safe sex
29 Surfer guys
30 October birthstone
31 “Are we still on?”
33 Extra pay
34 Criminal Minds villain
35 Concerning a subject
36 New York prosecutor, Roy
37 Weather indicator
43 Within view
45 Old-school movie recording
48 ‘Buy U a Drank’ rapper
49 All good
50 “A doe, ______,” from ‘The Sound of Music’
51 How a sheep may refer to a cricket stick
52 Biblical gift
54 Modern Persia
55 Wolf en español
56 Key type
57 Hebrew word for destruction
58 “____ Barbie girl”, popular Aqua lyric
59 Local landlord grp.
Connections
by Greta Shope
Find groups of four items that have something in common!
EDITOR: ALEX LE SAGE
by Alex Le Sage
Make as many words as possible! Rules: Words must have at least 4 letters and must contain the center letter. Letters can be used multiple times. Scoring: 4 letters words are worth 1 point each. Longer words are worth 1 point per letter. Each puzzle has at least one word which includes all the letters and gives you seven bonus points.
Word Search
Crossword by Julia Emery and Iris Hubbard
by Iris Hubbard
by Alex Le Sage
Illustration by Amelia Freeden
EDITOR: ALDEN ARNOLD
Watch Your Step: Climbing Ben Vorlich
HANNAH CLARK Photographer
People-Watching in Paris
TRICIA MERONE Photographer
Illustration by Amelia Freeden
EDITOR: ARNAZ MALLICK
Celebrities Love Transcendental Meditation
DANIEL ALDERSON Relic Writer
Search inside your mind and choose any of the typical celebrities — it will not take long to pick one that has claimed their life was changed by ‘TM’. Put so concisely, TM introduces itself as a punchy and mysterious two-letter saviour to the chaotic lives of the world’s most watched. No matter your level of wealth or fame, stress is present in life. But, why is Transcendental Meditation consistently the only type of stress relief these people champion with such superlative pomp? There are plenty of ways to meditate, yet only the transcendental kind gets sold to the onlooker with such a ‘now here’s my little secret…’ treatment.
Perhaps this is just the nature of celebrities. There are endless interviews in which they pour their hearts out in admiration of the practice, to such an extent that you’d be forgiven for thinking they were sales pitches. According to singer Katy Perry, she gains two days in one with the practice of this simple tool. All you must do is meditate for twenty minutes twice a day, repeating a personal mantra in your head. In doing so, the mind settles inwards towards a pure form of consciousness and rest, leaving the practitioner energised as they step out from their meditative retreat. That sounds
pretty useful to everybody. The only catch is that you must be taught how to do this by a trained professional: a four-day course that will set you back anywhere between £395 and £725 depending on your income.
The association of celebrities with TM dates back to the late 1960s with the Beatles’ highly public connection to the technique’s initial teacher,
Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. In search of the next thing to move on to after drugs, they found energy in TM. This began a wider acceptance of Eastern influence on Western culture and perhaps laid the foundations for the TM organisation’s public ties to celebrities as unofficial ambassadors. Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s successor, the neuroscientist Tony Nader, has personally taught many of today’s celebrities since taking over leadership of the organisation. A brief browsing of the TM website brings
celebrity after celebrity onto the screen, almost suggesting that you too can be just like them. This is not a unique tactic of advertising. After all, TM is trying to reach as many people as possible and so, just like advertisements for the latest eau de toilette from Dior, a celebrity face representing their supposedly desirable life is helpful.
Timothée Chalamet gets all his roles because he wears Bleu de Chanel and Katy Perry could sing ‘Roar’ because she practised TM on the morning of the recording.
However, when it comes to spirituality and meditation, the combination of money and celebrity raises alarm bells. There is an almost cultlike essence to the obsessiveness of the ambassadors and the mystery of the practice they advocate for you to pay to uncover. This is not the only criticism that has been levelled against TM since its surge in popularity in the West: many have stated that it is simply a watered-down version of Hinduism tailored to the Western palate, an unnecessarily expensive way to meditate, and a dangerous proponent of pseudoscientific nonsense. The latter critique relates to claims such as the Maharishi
Effect, which states that the growth of TM would decrease crime statistics, and more strangely, yogic levitation. Although it might appear similar, TM is certainly not another Scientology. Minus the jargon-filled ramblings of public figures beaming with intensity about how much they need it, the practice itself naturally has positive effects — but to the extent of being worth £725? That depends on how much you believe their enthusiasm. It would be wrong to paint an entirely sceptical picture of TM, though. The David Lynch Foundation, set up by the late filmmaker, raises funds to teach TM for free to vulnerable groups, such as veterans, the homeless, and survivors of abuse, aiming to reduce the effects of trauma. It is a genuine means to improve people’s lifestyles with a business model that raises suspicion. The end goals that the organisation claims to desire — TM being trained to government officials and medical practitioners so that nations can learn the technique for free — are admirable. But until that is possible, the high paywall that is obstructing the majority from seeing this invaluable truth seems shady. Especially if, as others claim, this wall turns out to be one that you can walk around to uncover the same truth.
Postcards and a Legacy of Self-Censorship
Relic Writer
A museum visit is objectively incomplete without browsing the gift shop. An exemplary museum shop with abounding shelves displaying an array of paintingthemed dishware, fine art umbrellas, and overpriced stationery often excites me more than the gallery itself. Despite my love for all the aforementioned trinkets and souvenirs, I must confess my adoration for — and dedication to — a gift shop’s postcard collection. As I reflect on my postcard passion, I can imagine myself standing in the shops I have visited on vacations, slowly spinning the metal display carousel as I diligently select my favourites. Maybe I just can’t resist a good deal, and given that they are typically sold in bundles that discount their original price, postcards are the epitome of a good deal. However, I would hate to degrade my accumulation of postcards by assigning my treasured stack of gift shop purchases, vintage store finds, and letters acquired from loved ones to consumerism. Rather, the significance of my postcard collection derives from their embodiment of my interests and reflection of my life
as conveyed through words and images.
Many of the postcards I send and receive contain abridged stories and concise greetings. Although I never have anything truly scandalous to report to my friends and family through the mail, I always feel apprehensive about disclosing too many details on the back of a postcard, afflicted with the fear that anyone, on its journey to delivery, could illicitly read my message. Although postcards provide limited space for lengthy notes, this self-censorship seems unnecessary at times. I often find that the postcards I send are distant from my authentic writing style, as specific locations and the divulgence of complicated emotions are removed with the hopes of remaining unperceived by those who are tempted to steal glances at a message unconcealed by an envelope. However, my worries somewhat reflect the history of general censorship and self-censorship in postcard-sending culture.
As postcards printed with images gained popularity in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, so did regulations surrounding the kinds of images permitted in certain countries. Postcards sent internationally including sexual or religious images were restricted or censored by postal services if they did not adhere to the country of destination’s expectations, or if they
were deemed inappropriate. The general censorship of letters and correspondences increased during World War I, as countries involved in the war sought to protect themselves by restricting postcards that included images of problematic propaganda. Soldiers’ locations were concealed by censoring and removing any references to specific places on pictorial postcards, and soldiers in turn practised self-censorship to ensure the concealment of secret information.
Consequently, the Field Service Postcard — a standardised postcard with vague messages — was created in 1914 to allow soldiers to communicate with those at home while simultaneously limiting the need for excessive censorship.
After World War I, censorship continued with the production of postcards created for those travelling to the British seaside. Companies like Bamforth began to design titillating postcards that required approval from the Blackpool Censorship Board before being sold. Postcards sent from the seaside served as a form of self-
fashioning but also allowed their senders and recipients to connect over shared images and reminders of vacations. Though the popularity of postcards has declined since their creation because of the widespread use of technological communication. The postcards I collect as vacation souvenirs often function as the only tangible reminder of my travels. I would consider myself reasonably committed to sending letters, but my unwillingness to watch a postcard leave my collection and the occasional nerves that accompany dropping an exposed letter in a mailbox often inhibit my sending of them. Nonetheless, I relish the unexpected arrival of a postcard slipped under my door or a text from a friend at home expressing excitement about a postcard I sent them. My collection of sent and received postcards practically mirrors my identity, combining my style with those of the senders, and the designs on the front often convey what my insufficient messages fail to communicate.
Illustration by Hannah Beggerow
REESE ABROMAVAGE
Illustration by Elizabeth Lang
Murder Mysteries with Topping & Co.
Looking for your next read? The Saint and Topping & Co. have come together to save the day. Find below the best murder mysteries, all books are available locally in store.
BOOKSELLER PICKS
Sofia Recommends Listen for the Lie by Amy Tintera
Humour? In my murder mystery? With Listen for the Lie it might just be possible… In a genre as oversaturated as crime fiction, it’s often difficult for an individual book to sound out in a sea of copy-paste slashers, but our snarky anti-heroine Lucy (and her scene-stealing grandmother) is truly one of a kind. The only witness to, and key suspect, of the murder of her best friend many years ago, everyone knows she did it. Except, no one has ever been able to prove it. If only she could remember what actually happened…
Lightening fast and sharp-tongued, this narrative is a rollercoaster you’ll never want to get off. If your idea of a perfect evening is to put on a true crime podcast about the grizzliest unsolved murder imaginable while making dinner, this book is for you.
Paula Recommends Written in Bone by Sue Black
Written in Bone reads like the ultimate murder mystery — except the detective is a forensic anthropologist, and the clues are hidden within the bones of the dead. From head to toe, in this gripping exploration of forensic science, Black unravels the secrets skeletons keep, showing how bones can reveal everything from identity to cause of death. Each chapter reads like a case file, drawing readers into the silent testimonies of the dead. With her blend of science and storytelling, Black brings crime scenes to life, guiding us through the eerie world of postmortem investigations. Her firsthand experiences dissecting skeletal remains lend authenticity, as the book immerses readers in the forensic hunt for truth. For true crime enthusiasts and mystery lovers alike, Written in Bone is an enthralling journey into the science behind the ultimate whodunnit.
STAFF PICK
Hannah Recommends Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn
For those of you who devoured Gone Girl, I recommend Gillian Flynn’s Sharp Objects It has all of the dusty, haunting charm of any of the vine-strewn abandoned baptist churches undoubtedly found on your Southern gothic Pinterest boards; for the full effect, listen to Ethel Cain’s new album Perverts as you read. The story follows journalist Camille Preaker as she returns to her Missouri hometown, to cover the twin stories of two local girls who died identical deaths: strangled with pulled teeth. As someone who listens to true crime podcasts and watches serial killer documentaries, I thought I did not scare easily — then I read this. Just be warned, Sharp Objects delves into some pretty explicit mentions of self-harm.
The Coast’s Perplexing Perks
SAMUEL THAYRE Relic Writer
Why would anyone want to live in St Andrews? It’s in the middle of nowhere. If you want decent nightlife, then you have to trek God-knows-how-many miles into a city. It only has three major streets; you’ll go insane after walking them hundreds and thousands of times during your studies. There’s nothing to do; you’re essentially within a prison. Oh, and there’s a swarm of Americans around every corner.
The way some people talk about this town is something straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel, as if we’re stuck in some briny, peripheral backwater with antediluvian horrors lurking in the shadows and under the waves. Maybe there are some ichthyic monstrosities skulking just out of sight, but otherwise, the claim that St Andrews has to suffer just because it is located by the coast is purely laughable. Yes, we are a little out of the way. Yes, we are not as large nor as lively as a city, hence its nickname, ‘the Bubble’. Yes, our clubbing scene is quite dire. But being by the sea is an immutable fact: St Andrews will forever be located along the Fife coast.
asunder — the sound of waves lapping ashore would turn to a deafening silence, the foreboding transience of the haar would dissipate, and the air would turn sickeningly static and dry. How boring, how vanilla this town would be without all that minutiae! Beneath that, there’s something else so enigmatically endearing about being along the coast. There’s something indescribable about the sea, a certain je ne sais quoi. Of course, that poses a problem for an article writer — one cannot be didactic and explain in clear terms what exactly this quality
Just as the town and university are inextricably linked, so are the town and its location.
Even so, this fact does not have to be some horrid curse — rather, it is an opportunity. Being by the coast naturally allows us to enjoy a wide range of activities: swimming, surfing, beach bonfires, paddling, and sitting down to eat fish and chips while defending ourselves from seagulls. Despite the relatively cold water of the North Sea, there are innumerable things that the coast allows us to do. Of course, the things I’ve listed are arguably generic enough to apply to any coastal town. Yet, what would St Andrews be if we didn’t have our traditions such as the Gaudie, May Dip, or the (unfortunately disrupted) Pier Walk? If anything, we’d be more like any average city university, but not in a good way. The University of St Andrews without the coast would not be the University of St Andrews: our unique character would cease to exist. Experiences of the coast would be torn
is. Regardless, that quality is there, I feel. Here I cannot help but explain it best by a suggestion: spend a decent amount of time at the coast, with no other distractions. Pick up some sea glass. Let yourself be soothed by the lapping waves. Observe rocks being washed ashore. Feel the air on your skin. Lose yourself in the almost hypnotic motions of the sea. Perhaps, then, you’ll feel that indescribable emotion. Wistfulness and melancholia almost cover it. Almost. Still, there’s nothing inherently depressing about it. Contentedness and comfort almost cover it, too. Almost. The coast does not have to detract from the St Andrews experience. Rather, it is a benefit. Anytime you complain about the remoteness of the Fife coast, just keep in mind that it’s blessing us with a profoundly unique university experience. Give the coast a chance — let the ocean wash open your heart.
Illustration by Sarah Knight
CARLA LONGO Relic Writer
An Ode to Open Mics Why putting your words out there matters
Stepping onto a stage in a new venue and performing — perhaps for the first time — in front of an unknown audience, requires incredible courage and yet is so important. This is the art of the open mic, where, no matter the experience, any artist has the opportunity to present their work.
Whether it is music, poetry, or standup comedy, the watchword is one: sharing. Writing — be it a short story or a comedy set — is often a lonely job. The artist, alone with their ideas, composes in silence. Major artistic platforms — publications, radio, television — are usually difficult to access. They require time, money, and competition. But that is precisely the magic of open mics: they break the artist’s isolation without requiring fees, recommendations, or CVs. Open mics are inclusive and accessible, a space where culture is shared democratically and everyone stands on equal footing. Suddenly, the artist is no longer alone. They are surrounded by fellow artists and an audience eager to listen. The confrontation they face is immediate and direct. If they published a poem in a newspaper or book, if they uploaded a video to YouTube or had a song played on the radio, they would still
display their work, but at a distance, leaving a kind of barrier between the artist and their audience. Feedback would be delayed, indirect, and filtered. But at an open mic, the response is immediate and unvarnished, for better or worse.
This is precisely why I love this form of expression. Performances take place outside the academic or polished settings of cultural festivals. Every reaction is valid. There is no studied language of criticism. In a society where direct human contact is increasingly rare, and where so much of our communication is mediated through screens, such a raw and genuine form of connection can be intimidating. During my first open mic, I was genuinely terrified, but in a world like ours, it also does so much good. At the same time, what I love about open mics is their return to orality. In ancient Greece, the aedi — singers who recited epic poems, often accompanied by a zither or flute — were the primary transmitters of culture. Their work was consumed in collective settings, at festivals
and symposia. In ancient Rome, written texts lacked spaces between words because readings were typically done aloud. This
shows how storytelling and poetry were once deeply tied to spoken performance. Orality is a tradition we have largely lost, but one that we should reclaim. The sound of words, the imperfections of live performance, the facial expressions that accompany speech — these elements remind us that an artistic product does not have to be flawless. It is the human presence, the vulnerability, and act of standing in front of
others and saying, “Here I am, and this is what I have to say,” that makes it meaningful. Of course, open mics are not without their flaws. With no selection process, the audience may sometimes endure a rough or uninspired set. Henry Raby wrote a wonderful article on slam poetry where he expresses frustration at hearing the same twisted sets again and again. He describes open mics as ranging “from quiet to busy, typical to nuts, f***ing mint to a bit s**t,” and jokes, “If I hear one more poem about f***ing dinosaurs...!” Dinosaurs, for some reason, seem to be an obsession at open mics. Sometimes, an open mic can be nearly empty, and the lack of an audience can make it feel like “replying to a question that nobody asked”. Yet, I think the mere act of putting one’s words out there, of giving one’s work importance before anyone else does, is already an act of recognition. Not for money or fame, but simply to share. Brave, imperfect, and tragicomic — this is the essence of the open mic. And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Because in those fleeting moments on-stage, stripped of barriers, an artist truly connects — not just with an audience, but with the very heart of what it means to create.
The Shift to Shorter Shows
Why have TV shows become so short?
LEO BERENSON Relic Writer
The first season of Stranger Things aired in July of 2016. It was eight episodes long, all of which were eagerly binged by thirteenyear-old me. Now, nearly a full decade later, I am about to graduate from university, and the final season of Stranger Things is nearly upon us. It will, like the first and third seasons, be eight episodes long. Combining that with the second and fourth seasons’ 18 total episodes, this means that by the time we all finally say goodbye to the town of Hawkins, the show will have aired a grand total of 42 episodes over the course of nine years.
The Duffer Brothers, the showrunners and writers of Stranger Things, have said that the smaller episode count was designed to help the show feel more cinematic like one long film split into eight parts. This mentality has come to dominate the world of television lately, with the vast majority of shows (especially on streaming platforms like Netflix and Disney+) increasingly having shorter season lengths in the name of keeping things cinematic. There are noncreative reasons for this shift, as well, of
course. Streaming networks don’t have to worry about producing 100 episodes for syndication (where studios sell the rights to air the show to other networks) anymore, and the ballooning per-episode budgets of TV series leave far less room for longer seasons. I’m sure there’s a brilliant, insightful article out there somewhere about that second point.
The reasons for the shift to shorter shows, while important, are not what I’m here to talk about. Instead, I’d like to make my case for why I think the transition to shorter, more cinematic seasons of TV hurts television as a visual storytelling medium. While I do not think every single show must be more than eight episodes (sixepisode seasons are a little ridiculous, but with the right script, I’ll let it slide), I think making eight episodes the standard severely limits a lot of the character work and plotlines that are only possible in TV shows.
To start, if a show follows the new standard structure (six-to-eight-episode seasons with each episode being around an hour), then the plot must be consistently and ruthlessly driven forward at all times to avoid any issues with pacing. This is not a bad thing in and of itself, but oftentimes it can come at the cost of the meaningful characterisation only television is capable of.
Seasons that are 12 episodes, and especially those that are 23, give the plot time to breathe and leave room for character-focused episodes that, because of many young people growing up with these shorter seasons, are often unfairly maligned as ‘filler’. Other visual mediums simply don’t have the runtime to do this incredibly in-depth and more methodical character work, and I think it’s one of the things that makes television so special. Beyond character work, longer seasons of television can do some really incredible things with their narratives, especially
shows that have season-long (or even serieslong) mysteries. A prime example of this is Lost, a mystery show that took the world of television by storm and ran for six seasons totalling 121 episodes. With the exception of the fourth season, which was shortened due to the Writers’ Strike, each season of Lost was over fifteen 40-minute episodes. There has been substantial debate over how satisfying the answers to Lost’s mysteries ended up being, but it’s undeniable that the lengthy season runtime helped build suspense and intrigue in a way that almost no show since has been able to match.
Mysteries like the monstrous noises heard in the forest at the end of the first episode are built up and expanded upon over the course of dozens and dozens of episodes, something that just is not possible with shorter seasons. At the end of the day, what really matters is the vision of the show’s creative team. If they feel they can tell a compelling story in only 6-8 episodes, more power to them. But the push to make this season length the standard hurts the storytelling potential of television, a medium uniquely suited for larger character arcs and long-running plotlines. Let’s not take that away.
Illustration by Olivia Little
Illustration by Sandra Palazuelos Garcia
Linoleum, London, and Lousy Advertising
SOREN RASMUSSEN Relic Writer
When the Grosvenor School of Modern Art began in 1925, it set out to break the rules. Fuelled by the democratic optimism of the day, its founder Iain Macnab established no entry requirements, fixed exams, or formal curriculum. He admitted students regardless of their background and granted them the freedom to study what and when they pleased. A hundred years later it can still sound absurd, but in its short existence, Macnab’s freewheeling experiment fostered a printmaking renaissance in interwar Britain. Under one roof, a small group of progressive artists championed a lesser-known medium which they believed held the power to transform the public reception of art.
Of all the staff at Grosvenor, none were more popular than Claude Flight, a printmaker who preached his own artistic gospel: the linocut. Also known as linoleum printing, the technique mirrors woodblock printmaking — carving a design then printing ink from the uncarved areas — but replaces wood for linoleum (that stuff your grandparents’ floors are made of). Flight taught both the fundamentals of linocutting and his own expressive style, which emphasised abstraction and a limited colour palette. Adapting his techniques to develop
The Grosvenor Linocut Revisited
their own aesthetics, Grosvenor artists like Sybil Andrews, Cyril Power, and Lill Tschudi soon became the new masters of the medium.
The school frequently took the speed and rapid modernisation of daily life as
its subject, with fluid, curvilinear forms displaying life at its dynamic peak. Living in the aftermath of World War I, the linocuts encapsulate the parallel optimism and anxiety of the time — the colourful curves playfully bending a racecar in one print warp the faceless, toiling labourers of another. Some of the finest works include Andrews’ Hyde Park and Rush Hour, Power’s The Eight, and Ethel Spowers’ The Plough, with infinitely more worth exploring.
To Flight, the linocut was the ultimate reflection of his group’s democratic ambitions. As a relatively new and
unexplored medium, it was free from the shadows of past artists, and, as linoleum is cheaper and easier to carve than wood (due to its softness and lack of grain), even the most untrained of artist could try. But his real ambitions lay with the public. Given the proper time and development, he saw linocuts as an artform for the people, a handcrafted medium that the ordinary person could buy for the price of a beer or movie. When paired with the right elementary art education, he argued, albeit idealistically, that the average citizen would choose art over beer or movies, as they would know “that aesthetic pleasure surmounts creature comforts, and that the harmony, the intensity, and the vision which a good work of art affords would be his for the asking.” Flight’s dream never materialised, of course, as a linocut in his day cost about a middleclass week’s worth of wages and few people would sacrifice their pint for a print.
But another factor complicates the argument for the Grosvenor linocuts today, as their closest living relative may be none other than Corporate Memphis. If you’re unfamiliar with Corporate Memphis, it’s merely because you didn’t know the name; the style appears in advertising everywhere — that flat, minimalist illustration style of
colourful, cartoonish human figures with curved, exaggerated limbs and little or no facial features. Since peaking in popularity around 2018, the style has declined in popularity, widely criticised as simplistic, lifeless, uninspired, and falsely advertising diversity. With the exception of the last critique, one could attach such labels to the Grosvenor style as well. But despite basic similarities, the two are not equal. Firstly, because Corporate Memphis is not art, it’s advertising — the mere use of visual techniques does not constitute artistic expression. But more importantly, the linocuts display a conscious, deliberate form of abstraction, not merely to expedite creation but to articulate the public consciousness of their time. Grosvenor’s linocut movement was over soon after it began. Macnab’s school shut down in 1940 and now serves as part of the nearby Heatherley School. Many artists left London, finding moderate success elsewhere but rarely drawing attention in other mediums. Today, their art can easily seem a precursor to the commercial illustrations many of us have come to detest. But behind those faceless, flowing figures was a genuine pursuit to create new, affordable art for the masses. While abstract, it was anything but lifeless.
A Manifesto Against Marginalia
MILLY SMITH Relic Writer
I arrive at my English seminar bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, riding on the high of having actually completed this week’s assigned reading. Yet, this high immediately begins to dissipate when I place my copy of this week’s novel on the table (plain, just-as-bought, with a few intermittent dog-ears), where it is greeted by twenty other neon post-it covered copies exploding at the seams with notes, arrows, and copious gel-penned thoughts. My book looks depressingly monochromatic next to these bedazzled beauties. It is the ugly duckling of the seminar table. I can practically hear them sniggering at my unoriginality and lack of critical thinking. This trend of marginalia — scribblings in margins, abounding notes placed on pages — is no linger exclusive to just academic work. It isn’t just about making comprehensive notes that break down complicated literary jargon or adding definitions to confusing terms: it has now broken into the realm of fiction. I see people on the Tube reading the latest chart-topping fiction new-release, armed with pencil as they scribble each and every reaction into
the corners of the pages. I just can’t help but think this sort of marginalia has become performative, a status symbol intended to impress others as they take pencil to paper, clearly bursting with interesting ideas. How often are these underlined or annotated passages actually reflected upon outside of this moment of performance, I wonder. Virginia Woolf disliked marginalia. She rarely employed it herself, and wished others would refrain from scribbling in their books’ margins. She instead made comments in a series of notebooks alongside her reading, as she believed that, extracted from the text, meaning happens elsewhere. I wholeheartedly agree with Woolf’s sentiments. When I find a passage or a comment in a novel that makes me think, I note it down somewhere else. Taking pen to book and scribbling over it fills me with anxiety: what if what I have to say isn’t interesting after all, and I have marked the pages of this book with my own inadequacy? Additionally, there is the practicality of marginalia: margins are not that big! In a notebook I find my thoughts can freely cluster and grow, as thought breeds thought on an uninterrupted page. I do not want to be confined by the smallness of the margin, nor the self-doubting that arises from
the fear of ruining a novel’s page when a thought turns out to amount to nothing. Also, as I love to share my favourite novels amongst friends and family, I would
hate to give them a copy filled with my inane scribblings that then hampers, or controls, their own reading experience. We can have a chat over coffee about what we both gleaned from the novel’s pages; we don’t need to do it in tandem, blinded by neon Stabilo highlighter. I recognise, however, that marginalia is not without its benefits. How to Read a Book, a self-help guide from the 1940s, claims that “marking a book is literally an expression of
your differences or your agreements with the author. It is the highest respect you can pay him.” Marginalia does facilitate a meeting of two minds in those margins: a belated conversation between two individuals. It corporealises reading, allowing it to break out of the sphere of the contained mind and onto the physical pages of being.
For those who also become individuals of note, marginalia can then become studied, reaching the same level of prestige as the novel on which the words were originally inscribed. For example, a copy of Curiosities of Literature by Isaac D’Israeli, complete with Jane Austen’s markings and musings from girlhood, was auctioned at Sotheby’s for over £115,000 — but I just can’t escape the thought that novels are something to be protected. They are a dying art form in a sea of Kindles and audiobooks. I revere my paper copies, and so don’t want to tarnish them with ill-thought-out scribblings that would pour uncontained if I let them.
As S. Brent Plate from the Los Angeles Review of Books affirms, “If the book is an endangered species, then so are its margins.” Image from Wikimedia Commons
Illustration by Elizabeth Lang
EMMA INGRAM-JOHNSON Relic Writer
Launched in December 2023, the TV series Quentin Blake’s Box of Treasures features six figures from Sir Quentin Blake’s newly animated drawings. Blake’s team are far from the first to move away from classical methods of disseminating artwork; Axel Scheffler’s drawings that accompany Julia Donaldson’s children’s books were on stage only two years after the book’s first publishing in 1999. The cultural clash of television and hand-drawn art is not necessarily a negative one, but given the ever-declining rates of children’s reading and increasing turn to technology to placate meltdowns, making Blake more ‘accessible’ does not seem to be a justified reason for this animation. For an artist that most conflates exclusively with the stories of Roald Dahl, Blake has tremendous scope and range. His sketchhanded style blends into the background when the storytellers who enlist him are attempting to set themselves centre-stage, yet his drawings are irrefutably suffused with the mode of Quentin Blake. Staring up at Blake’s ‘Mrs Armitage On Wheels’ on a tiny black screen in a waiting room last month, I was transfixed and transported.
A Box of Treasures
The Limits of Iconic Drawing Styles
Mrs Armitage, one of Blake’s most iconic characters, is at once familiar and estranged to my eye. I follow her movements from the Cream Horn shop to the Noisy Horn Emporium, convincing myself I know what is coming, purely because her designer is Blakean. The fluidity she gains from animation is startling; there is something lost in this anthropomorphising. She becomes not just a representation of a married English woman always on an errand, but an unexpected still-image in movement. Blake, at the age of 92, is no longer illustrating. This animation of his shelved drawings, then, feels oxymoronic; Blake’s designed universe is at an end, but he has allowed them to be brought to life again in a new medium, given voices and intonations that once existed only in the minds of the children pouring over his books. I wonder how much of my childhood was spent on the physical act of reading and designing for myself a world behind these drawings. Indeed, illustrations in children’s books are quintessential and
undeniable; children are convinced to read the books on account of the interesting, often fantastical in Blake’s case, drawings.
Nowhere else in literature is this tradition so readily accepted and expected. The move of a classic artist like Blake into a television set is a transgression of these boundaries. By bringing these stories ‘to life’ through animation, the parameters within which these characters exist become smaller, and children’s
ability to imagine is less encouraged. The success of Quentin Blake’s Box of Treasures is largely due to Blake’s pre-existing fame — the stories are perhaps more for the parents of today’s children who grew up with his drawings and are used to the sublime interest produced by a long protruding nose in a Dahl book. Indeed, despite the ‘live’ (ironically online) sessions set to take place this year to teach children ‘art and literacy’ by the BBC, children may not be the target audience for this TV series. The episodes retell stories that are already in print: Angel Pavement and Loveykins, both ridiculously named, evoke my childhood desire to delve into Sir Quentin Blake’s beautiful drawings long before I could read. This nostalgia, I believe, is what brings people back to Blake’s artwork and visual storytelling; the animation is haunting rather than captivating. It is possible that children aged between seven and ten are not interested in these animations, instead faced with an era of increasing social media access with which drawings, even when animated, cannot quite keep up.
Thoughts on My Year of Rest and Relaxation
MARIA DE FEO Relic Writer
If you have spent some time on Goodreads, you have probably heard of My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh. For those unfamiliar with this title, it might be helpful to look at the novel’s cover, which features a painting by Jacques Louis David. Before reading the book, I had caught about a thousand glimpses at the apathetic expression of the woman in the artwork. I did not predict that the cynicism pictured in the face of the protagonist of the cover would reflect that of the book’s main character. The two heroines look nothing alike: the muse of the painting is a brunette with soft curves, while the book’s nameless leading figure describes herself as a slim, tall
blonde. What makes the two similar, in my eyes, is the boredom apparent in their faces.
The narrator and protagonist of the novel is a young, rich, and, as she herself repeats, beautiful art history graduate. She lives in the buzzing New York of the year 2000. Tired of being awake and facing reality, she starts to take a concerning amount of sleeping pills and anxiety medications with the aid of her very irresponsible psychiatrist. Her goal is to spend a year sleeping. She hopes that, in the end, she will wake up a different person.
The book’s wealth is in its absorbing nature: it completely trapped and consumed me. Its style is sometimes dry, sometimes introspective. Its irregularity catapulted me inside the insufferable protagonist’s brain. She is
arrogant and looks at the world with spite, but I understood her, because I was given the chance to closely follow her thought process. While reading, I almost felt like I was morphing into this character. I picked up the book when I was already burnt out and, the more I turned its pages, the more I felt like sleeping my days away and escaping my surroundings would be a good idea. Thankfully, I did not do this. However, the point is that the book put me in the uncomfortable position of despising the protagonist and simultaneously paralleling some of her tendencies.
What affected me the most about the character was her complete lack of empathy. We are immediately made aware, at the beginning of the novel, that her best friend Reva’s mum is about to die. The protagonist is irritated by her friend’s sadness and is not there to comfort her. Her cynicism is rooted so deeply within her because of the traumatic experiences she went through during her childhood and young adult life. Despite this, though, I rarely managed to muster up the strength to pity her. Another characteristic of the narrator is her tendency to see the worst in everyone. When I first read the book, I was naively convinced by her descriptions of her
acquaintances. A second examination made me feel like a lot of the characters in the novel might have been deformed by her cynical eye. This is glaringly obvious when one observes the disconnect between Reva’s words and actions, and the protagonist’s depiction of her. Reva is always there for the main character, even though she herself is in a dark phase of her life. Despite this, she is described by the narrator as envious and inauthentic.
It is my belief that the main character is resentful towards her best friend because she ardently desires something that comes naturally to Reva: the willingness to try in life. Reva is a try-hard. She puts effort into everything, from her body to her adherence to the most recent trends. Reva and the protagonist are polar opposites. The former lives with her eyes wide open, always attempting to be better; she faces the unknown with courage, until the very last end. One could argue that she lives her way into death while the latter wants to sleep herself into life. She wants to passively wait, in a state of semi-death, for life to happen to her. With its ability to anger me, turn me into its main character, and prompt reflection, My Year of Rest and Relaxation was one of my favourite recent reads.
Image from Wikimedia Commons
Illustration by Isabelle Holloway
EDITOR: OLGA ALONSO BLANCO
The Art of Living Poetically
Lessons
from ‘The Lantern Live’ at StAnza 2025
WALT SCOTT Events Writer
StAnza strives “to connect the Scottish poetry scene to the international poetry scene”, as abridged by participant Allistair Heather. To this end, it hopes to curate a “more developed poetry audience”. If I knew anything on this fine Saturday morning, it’s that I was not going to miss out on that. The festival travels around Scotland, hosting events where different poets have opportunities to read their work to a live audience. They use a tiered ‘pay-what-you-can’ system for their in-person events, ranging from £5-£20.
“She hopes to demonstrate that disability does not define a person.”
I was drawn to ‘The Lantern Live with Charlotte Van den Broeck & Nuala Watt’, an event kindly supported by Flanders Literature. The StAnza-run podcast hosted a recording in front of a live audience on 15 March, where these guests joined hosts Heather and Kathleen Jamie. Recognised
as one of Scotland’s leading young poets, Watt is originally from Glasgow, while Van den Broeck is a Belgian poet acclaimed by the Herman de Coninck Prize for her debut collection Chameleon
As we walked in, Jamie explained that they tend to display a theme with their guests. Although it seemed to be fleshed out quite implicitly, the underlying theme I could notice was activism. Throughout the recording, each poet read selections of their work for the audience and discussed what they meant to them. At first, neither considered themselves to be an activist per se, with Van den Broeck clarifying that activism relies upon action itself. These reflections resonate profoundly in a town like St Andrews — a bubble of principled pandemonium and leaflet-thrusting smiles along the main library runway. Their poetry grappled with the difficulties of living within systemic barriers. At first, both guests recounted the troubles they had faced. Watt spoke about the challenges of living with a disability and bringing a child into the world, whilst Van den Broeck reflected upon the issues that women face. A recurring theme in her work is the constant pursuit of identity, one pursued through intense and often graphic detail. She described this through a soft but stern calmness. As she delicately lingered on every word, each pause resulted in a
momentary lapse of acknowledging silence.
Poetry, for her, is a uniquely intimate experience. She can reside within her poetry fully, preventing her from taking action. However, Heather astutely pointed out that the work itself can serve as a form of activism.
“For a split second, the people in the room could grasp their emotions.”
As discussions progressed, I could feel the entire crowd hanging onto every word, reacting to every phrase, and experiencing a sense of emotional relief at the end of each poem’s reading. For a split second, the people in the room could grasp their emotions. Watt spoke about how people judge her as a disabled person, and, how, just because they are assessing, does not mean they do so correctly. She hopes to demonstrate that disability does not define a person. Poetry for her is an extension of who she is — a correct assessment, you could say.
I was eager to speak with Heather after the recording. I hoped to discuss how poets “lived their work”. Heather works for BBC Radio 4, where he writes documentaries. I asked him if he, himself, wrote poetry. He said he did not. I then asked him whether, as a reader, he also saw poetry as an extension of himself.
“Reading helps me understand my own emotions,” he answered.
He described how it can serve to empathise with other people’s bodies, minds, and experiences. A little more empathy in this town couldn’t hurt. Maybe I should read sometimes.
He bridged this together with his upbringing in a “wee town” in Scotland, one that never taught him to have any degree of expressiveness.
“Poetry gave me access to emotions and put words
to things, bringing a greater diversity of understanding to my internal life.” When referring to the importance of poetry as a medium, he described the way it sheds light on things behind media headlines, allowing it to act as a portal into the true emotion behind newsworthy events. This helped me to interpret poetry in a new light; as a life raft in a tumultuous sea of bulls**t media and politics. I found this interesting coming from someone who works for the BBC. Perhaps he needs it more than anyone else. Watt outlined how she tries to employ every tool possible when writing, as failing to do so would be like using only half of a piano. She writes as an activist, where she, herself, is the act and the poems allow her to work through emotion. It allows her to paint a meditative self-portrait. Poetry thus enables her to assess herself and take that power back from others. I can interpret the event itself as a form of activism. The act of reading aloud amidst a live collective became personal and almost revitalising. It felt like an unfiltered and impactful flow of knowledge, a stark contrast to the curated information we typically consume. Ultimately, it stood as a refreshing change from everyday media consumption, which is often driven by the urge to persuade, radicalise, or polarise. By compelling the audience to listen rather than react, its force was subtly yet undeniably powerful.
“Poetry thus enables her to assess herself, taking that power back from others.”
The crowd was certainly much older than I expected, but any lack of youth was outweighed by tremendous zeal. As I walked out, I contemplated this passion, remarkably present among the hosts, poets, and spectators. I find it inspiring when people can ardently live their work. It attracts good attention. Amidst a hub of student ambition, I reckon we could all do with a little less careerist anxiety and a little more self-introspection. Sadly, very few times have I found myself embodying the artistry of my PY1012 essays. Alas.
Photo by Walt Scott
A Dive into Blind Mirth
St Andrews’ funniest, sexiest, and only
LIZZIE ROSENMAN Events Writer
Every Monday at 8pm, seven students gather in the Union to do one of the bravest acts at this University: improv. This past Monday, I sank down into the most comfortable couch in Sandy’s Bar to watch Blind Mirth’s White Lotus themed show. Ava Samans, Callum Wardman-Browne, Ellen Rowlett, Holly Ward, Loulou Sloss, Matthew Clegg, and Zoe Herschlag all came together under Piper Richardson’s production for an hour well worth attending. After speaking to members Sloss, Clegg, and Samans, I was surprised to hear them describe the night of 10 March as “slower”, chalking it up to the deadlines many students have this week. Nonetheless, the room felt full of people taking a much needed break from the library, ready to laugh the mid-term madness away. Onstage, the actors stood bedazzled with sailor hats and beachy attire. When I asked the actors about their White Lotus theme, they admitted it was mostly for promotional reasons. It made the weekly show a bit more diverse yet remained inclusive. Even as someone who has never seen White Lotus, I could still keep up with the witticisms. The audience’s giggles and ‘ahh’s definitely helped with this. The entirety of the show lasts just about an hour. The earlier you get there, the better your seats will be, and the more likely the cast is to acknowledge your (hilarious, I’m sure) prompts and suggestions.
The show can be summarised as a range of improvisational games, each one involving some form of crowd participation. My favourite one consisted of assigning random characters for the actors to then guess. When someone from my right suggested the Lorax, WardmanBrowne began to move only on his knees, referring to his nonexistent moustache and trees. A different spectator from the back then suggested “drunk aunt”. This time, Clegg posed a hilariously stark contrast to the beloved Guardian of the Forest. When asked what Sloss, Clegg, and Samans’ favourite improv games were, they considerately agreed on ‘First Line Last Line’. The actors receive a first and last line from the crowd with no relation to each other. They then have to piece together a story so it starts and ends with those exact words. You can imagine the scenes!
improv group
I wondered if improv was harder when acted in front of your peers. Samans explained that it is actually a lot easier, making her feel she is in “safe hands”, as opposed to performing for an unknown audience.
Clegg remarked that St Andrews students can often have a shared sense of humour. They can make a joke about Molly’s or the Union and we would all undoubtedly let out a giggle. Nonetheless, being onstage can still make you feel “quite vulnerable”. The actors need to juggle a lot of considerations. They need to quickly pick up the prompts that contextualise where, when, and who they are. Of course, they must try and make us laugh through clever quips and bits. However, they
revealed that the most difficult task is getting “energy from the crowd”. With improv, the audience makes the show, and a bad reaction is deemed better than silence. If a joke fails, the cast have learned how to play into the silence, making fun of themselves and moving on. It’s truly impressive. Although they do practice once a week, the show is reliant on improvisation. The cast assured me that there are no pre-prepared jokes or snippets. The only exception to this is their annual Sketch Comedy show, which remains their sole scripted and priced performance. It costs only £5 and helps financially support the student-run group for later events like the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. Sloss spoke glowingly of the festival, labelling it as one of the best things about St Andrews theatre. The tight-knit group has been running for 25 years, consistently striving to make other students laugh. Throughout her time in the group, Samans revealed how she “sees everyone become more uninhibited” through their growing chemistry and comfort. I could see how this is visibly represented on stage. Some of the actors do have experience in theatre or improv, but others seem to simply be funny people who found their stage-presence through the group. For next Monday — and all of the ones after that — grab a friend, brainstorm your best non-geographical location, and immerse yourself in the glory of our beloved mirthers.
Photo Provided by Loulou Sloss
Digging Deep into the A14 Excavation
ADDIE NELSON Events Writer
For anyone seeking an in-depth exploration of the past, the University of St Andrews Archaeological Society’s monthly talks offer a fantastic opportunity to explore new insights from the world of archaeology. The evening of 13 March was no exception. Dr Alex Smith, Head of Post-Excavation at Headland Archaeology, captivated his audience through a presentation on the A14 excavation in Cambridgeshire — an intensive project spanning 21 kilometers of road from 2016 to 2022, and uncovering over 6,000 years of history. Held in the School I lecture hall, it attracted a varied audience, including many local residents with a passion for history, alongside a handful of St Andrews students. Over the course of the hour, Dr Smith shared the findings from one of the largest archaeological digs in British
history, leaving the audience eager to engage further during the lively Q&A that followed.
Dr Smith offered an in-depth look at the A14 excavation by detailing how 250 archaeologists were involved in unearthing over 250,000 artefacts, and how its unprecedented scale provided new insights into the UK’s past. It reveals ancient landscapes, agricultural practices, and the development of human settlements in this part of Britain.
The most captivating moment came as he unveiled some of the shockingly unusual findings from the excavation. The audience was intrigued by tales of creatures such as mammoths, woolly rhinos, bison, and reindeer, whose remains were discovered during the dig. One standout was an Iron Age human skull comb — an unsettling, yet thought-provoking, artefact. While its precise function remains unclear, the comb offers valuable insight into the rituals and beliefs of Iron Age Britain, particularly about how
human remains were treated and sometimes modified. Objects like this, made from human bone, may have been used in ceremonial practices or repurposed as everyday tools.
Dr Smith’s presentation spanned multiple historical periods, taking us on a chronological journey from the Neolithic period to the Middle Ages. Each time frame offered its unique treasures, including the Offord Cluny Burial — a find dating back to the Roman Empire known for its connection to the Samaritan Confederacy. This burial tracked the life journey of an individual who had traveled from the eastern Mediterranean to their final resting place in Cambridgeshire, highlighting the extraordinary mobility and cultural exchange of the time.
Dr Smith deconstructed the cutting-edge techniques used to analyse the artefacts. The methodologies employed in the excavation were just as intriguing, including isotope analysis to study the animal, plant, and human remains. It was clear that these
technologies are playing an increasingly vital role in uncovering the complex connections between ancient cultures, their environments, and the evolving human story. Overall, Dr Smith made sure the findings of the A14 excavation were presented in a way that was accessible to everyone in the audience. He used clear, concise explanations and supported his points with a range of audio-visuals, especially when diving into more complex procedures. His charismatic delivery, complete with light-hearted jokes and relatable references, ensured that the talk was both informative and enjoyable, regardless of the audience’s familiarity with the subject. By the end of the evening, the crowd left the lecture hall buzzing with newfound knowledge and a greater appreciation for the depth and breadth of the archaeological work being done right here in the UK.
LOGAN SIBBALD Sci-Tech Writer
EDITOR: ANA-LUCIA CHALMERS
The (Declining) Butterfly Effect
Butterfly populations are rapidly decreasing
As springtime begins, you may take for granted the miniature works of art that bob along with the wind and flutter before your eyes. You may even try to avoid these intricate beauties — grouping them with the likes of wasps, bluebottles, and other unnerving sky pests. However, the common butterfly, although small and delicate, plays a vital role in our planet’s survival. A recent study published in the journal Science has presented an analysis of butterfly population data amassed from over 76,000 surveys conducted across the US over the past two decades. The results show that from the year 2000 to 2020, butterfly numbers have decreased by 22 per cent, at a rate of 1.3 per cent per year. At this rate, one can expect US butterflies to suffer widespread extinction before the turn of the century. In the UK, their wipeout may be seen as soon as 2050 if the worst scenarios regarding air pollution and greenhouse gas emissions come to fruition.
There are 59 species of butterfly in the UK — 80 per cent of which are in decline — that play an important role in pollination efforts, increasing biodiversity, and providing a source of nutrition for the organisms above them in the food chain. Because of this, these beautiful insects are often enriched in the healthiest environments and ecosystems, serving as important indicator species. Considering the stability they provide to our ecosystems, reduced butterfly numbers are likely to have a detrimental impact. Imagine a world devoid of plant life — one in which you can’t pick a crop without it disintegrating. This is a world we are gradually creeping towards, with the loss of butterfly populations in areas rich with plant life only accelerating our approach. In the tropical grassland regions of countries like Venezuela, for example, butterflies account for 13.9 per cent of pollination efforts, closely following bees as the second most common
pollinator. However, since some bees have specific preferences for pollinating only the inner parts of flowers, the tendency of
relevant for cotton production in Texas, where butterflies are thought to contribute around $120 million worth of the plant. In the face of this threat, it is not unreasonable to hope that humanity has learned from the extinction of previous insect species — between 250,000 and 500,000 are thought to have gone extinct
Unsung Pioneers
across the world in the last 150 years. However, the current demise of butterflies can be directly attributed to the habitat loss, pollution, pesticide use, and climate change caused by human beings. It is clear that we have a lot of blood — or rather, broken wings — on our hands. Nevertheless, there may still be time to attenuate, and even heal, the damage that has already been done. Efforts to protect what few butterflies we have left have included a ban on neonicotinoid pesticides (which are lethal to insects), forwarded by the declaration of the UK Butterfly Emergency in 2024. Future endeavours in habitat restoration, protection, and management, as well as dampening climate change and global warming, will be vital for recovering butterfly numbers. If you are familiar with the butterfly effect, you will be aware of the drastic impact that losing a single one of these precious creatures can cause. If humanity is to continue on its current path, eliminating millions of delicate, fluttering wings, a shockwave of ecological chaos will inevitably follow.
Illustration by Isabella Abbott
The forgotten women of the scientific community
URQUHART DYCE Sci-Tech Writer
Throughout history, many women have made groundbreaking contributions to science, only to be overlooked or underappreciated in their time.
Vera Rubin, Eunice Foote, and Lise Meitner were three such women whose work fundamentally shaped modern physics, astronomy, and climate science. Their discoveries: dark matter, the greenhouse effect, and nuclear fission, are central to our understanding of the universe, yet they did not receive the full recognition they deserved.
Vera Rubin (1928–2016) was an American astronomer whose research provided some of the first convincing evidence for the existence of dark matter. In the 1970s, Rubin and her collaborator, Kent Ford, studied the rotation curves of galaxies, expecting to find that the stars on the outer edges of galaxies moved more slowly than those near the centre in accordance with Newtonian
mechanics. However, their observations revealed something astonishing: stars at the outer edges were moving just as fast as those closer to the galactic core. This was inconsistent with the distribution of visible matter and strongly suggested the presence of a massive, unseen substance — what we now call dark matter.
Despite the significance of her discovery, Rubin was overlooked for the Nobel Prize in Physics, although dark matter remains one of the biggest unresolved mysteries in astrophysics. The scientific community has since accepted her findings, and dark matter research has become one of the most active fields in cosmology. Rubin’s legacy lives on in changing our understanding of the universe’s composition.
Eunice Foote (1819–1888) was an American scientist and women’s rights advocate who was the first to demonstrate the greenhouse effect — the mechanism by which certain gases trap heat in the Earth’s atmosphere. In 1856, three years before Irish physicist John Tyndall conducted his
more widely recognised work, Foote organised an experiment in which she placed various gases in glass cylinders and exposed them to sunlight. She found that carbon dioxide and water vapor absorbed heat more efficiently than other gases and retained it for longer periods. From this, she concluded that an atmosphere rich in carbon dioxide would lead to a warmer planet.
Foote’s findings were neglected for over a century, while Tyndall received credit for discovering the role of greenhouse gases. Only in recent years has Foote’s contribution been recognised, and her research is now acknowledged as a foundational step in climate science. As the world grapples with climate change, Foote’s early insight into the warming effects of carbon dioxide proves more relevant than ever.
Lise Meitner (1878–1968) was an AustrianSwedish physicist who played a crucial role in discovering nuclear fission, the process that powers both nuclear reactors and atomic bombs. Working with Otto Hahn in the 1930s,
Meitner helped interpret their experiments, which showed that uranium atoms split into smaller nuclei when bombarded with neutrons. Meitner, along with her nephew, Otto Frisch, correctly explained how this process releases an enormous amount of energy, providing the theoretical framework for nuclear fission.
Despite her contributions, Meitner was excluded from the 1944 Nobel Prize in Chemistry, which was awarded solely to Hahn. This omission is considered one of the greatest injustices in the history of the Nobel Prize. Though she was later honored with other awards, including the naming of element 109 as meitnerium (Mt) in her honor, Meitner’s central role in nuclear fission was downplayed for much of her lifetime.
These are just some of the examples throughout history of women being overlooked in favour of their male contemporaries. We should do all we can to change our perception of the titans of scientific discovery and recognise those who have done so much but been recognised so little.
Stuck in Traffic? Just Fly
How flying cars are finally becoming a reality
MATTEO VERATELLI Sci-Tech Writer
“Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”
Those were the words spoken by Doc Brown in the 1989 sci-fi movie Back to the Future 2 just before his iconic DeLorean took off and flew to the year 2015, to a society dominated by flying cars. Fast forward to the actual year 2015, and Jim Dukhovny, a Berkeley graduate and former Yahoo! and Microsoft software engineer, is enjoying a meal at Coupa Cafe in Palo Alto with his friends, Dr Constantine Kisly, Pavel Markin, and Oleg Petrov. The four of them are coincidentally discussing flying vehicles and, just like in classic cinema stories, they end up sketching on a cafe’s napkin what would become the first real flying car. Inspired by the meeting, the friend group founded Alef Aeronautics in the nearby city of San Mateo to develop their idea. In just a year, the start-up completed its prototype, and in 2022, the Model A was unveiled. Drawn by
the former chief designer for Bugatti and Jaguar, this original model constitutes the first flying automobile capable of driving and taking off without the need for a runway. Alef CEO Jim Dukhovny states that, unlike other attempts at flying vehicles, Alef is the only one that can be called a car since it does not possess wings or external rotor blades, and can thus be used on conventional roads. Indeed, from the outside, the Model A looks just like a normal car, its eight propellers hidden under a carbon fibre mesh that lets the air flow through. Its four wheels allow standard road driving, but it’s the two extra travelling modes that make it unique. The car can hover over other cars for short distances before turning sideways and propelling forward via the rear rotors. This unusual movement permits a more stable and fast flight, with the cabin rotating to keep the driver facing forward during travel. This all-electric model is expected to reach a top speed of 225 mph and an autonomy of 110 miles in the air or 200 miles when driving.
Public tests have, for now, been conducted only with the lighter prototype Model 0, with the first ever footage of it published this February and described by the company’s CEO in an online interview as “[hopefully] a moment similar to the Wright brothers’ Kitty Hawk video.”
at an estimated price of £237,000 each, but Dukhovny also plans to release a cheaper, mass-produced model accessible
Engineering Life
to a larger share of people by 2035. This future Model Z should cost around £27,000, comparable to a normal car. The major challenges Alef face involve infrastructure and regulations. The Model A conforms to all traffic regulatory conditions, but new laws regarding flight have to be studied before flying cars can start freely roaming our skies. Nonetheless, Dukhovny affirmed that Alef has identified countries where their product could integrate into existing rules. The initial strategy is to focus the attention outside the US, and once the legal structure has been built, try to enter those states with free-er flight regulations such as California and Wyoming. It might take time before Doc’s world of flying cars darting across the sky becomes a reality, but one thing is certain: the day when we will be able to leap over those never-ending traffic jams just by pressing a button is definitely closer.
Illustration by Alice O’Sullivan
3D printed organs are moving from labs to clinical trials
BHANI KAUR Sci-Tech Writer
Imagine entering a hospital with a failing liver and leaving with a new one — not from a donor, but engineered specifically for you, layer by microscopic layer, using your own cells. This isn’t a science fiction novel, but the new promise of bioprinting technology that stands to transform modern medicine.
Bioprinting is similar to building a complex LEGO structure — except we use living cells instead of plastic blocks. Just as a traditional 3D printer deposits material layer by layer to create physical objects, bioprinters carefully position living cells suspended in bio-inks (cellfriendly materials) to construct living tissues and, eventually, entire organs. Like following the LEGO manual, each cell must be precisely positioned and properly connected with the layers above and below. However, unlike LEGO, these layers contain living cells that need to communicate and function together. The field has already demonstrated significant accomplishments. Research teams have successfully printed functional skin grafts for burn patients, cartilage for joint repairs, and experimental cardiac
tissues with spontaneous contractile properties. A notable advancement occurred in 2022 when Harvard University’s Wyss Institute researchers developed the SWIFT (Sacrificial Writing Into Functional Tissue) technique, enabling the However, bio-printing remains in its
early stages, with significant developments yet to be made. The primary objective remains the development of complex vital organs — kidneys, livers, and hearts. These organs present formidable challenges due to their multiple specialised cell types arranged in complex architectures. Any form of bio-printing has to account for the minute sophistication, such as intricate vascular networks, essential for nutrient and oxygen delivery. The current research is encouraging and has exciting implications beyond organ replacement therapies. Bioprinted human tissues offer a potential revolution in pharmaceutical development by providing more physiologically relevant testing platforms than conventional cell cultures or animal models. Testing new compounds on bioprinted human tissues yields results that more accurately predict clinical outcomes, potentially reducing development timelines and costs.
Think of a bioprinted organ like a city. The biggest challenge is creating tiny blood vessels — similar to alleyways and footpaths — that transport oxygen and nutrients to cells deep inside the organ. Without these pathways, cells in the centre quickly die from starvation,
just as neighbourhoods without supply routes would collapse. While we can build the organ’s main structures, creating this intricate network of life-supporting vessels remains a significant hurdle, especially for larger organs like kidneys or livers. Additional technical hurdles include ensuring printed cells maintain their specialised functions and developing bioinks that provide structural integrity and an optimal environment for cellular growth. Industry experts project that relatively simple bioprinted tissues could achieve widespread clinical application within five years, with more complex organs potentially following within the next decade. This advancement could eliminate transplant waiting lists and reduce the need for immunosuppressive therapy, as organs would be manufactured using patientderived cells. With approximately seventeen individuals dying daily while awaiting organ transplants, bioprinting offers a promising solution. The development of customised printed organ replacements marks the beginning of a new era in personalised regenerative medicine.
Illustration by Holly Ward
ISOBEL LISHER
Sport Writer
EDITOR: MAHALEY WISE
The Battle of the Scrum-Halves
The scrum-half, the heartbeat, the link — the crucial player in the fifteen-a-side game with the number nine on the shirt. Playing an active role in all scrums and rucks in rugby, as well as technically being labelled as a back, this position is the access-to-all-areas on the pitch.
What does the scrum-half do? Firstly, looking at the name, the number nine is involved in entering the ball in a scrum, and dealing with the aftermath of play. Whilst also linking play through seamless passing, tactical kicking and creating exciting and opportunistic game play — hence a vital player in rugby.
And now to the legendary Six Nations, where week four saw Les Bleus play against ‘the boys in green’. This was arguably a battle between two of the best number nines in world rugby: Antoine Dupont and Jamison
Gibson-Park. The scrum-halves play an exceptionally important role in dictating the outcome of the game, but the specific importance of this showdown is that this was the deciding game for the 2025 Grand Slam.
Dupont is world-renowned for his incredible improvisation, exciting play, and leadership role within the French team and his club Toulouse. Meanwhile, Gibson-Park plays the role of scrum-half to an exceptionally high standard, with legendary Welsh rugby commentator Gareth Rhys Owen referring to him as the best scrum-half in the world. His reasoning for not giving Dupont this title is that he is such a spectacular and unique player that he cannot be copied or recreated, so he does not fit the typical role of a scrum-half.
So how did the two scrum-halves battle it out? The first half was full of excitement, as it saw a sensational French defence preventing any try-scoring from as early as the fifth minute. And after the first yellow card of the match, the game was not looking up for the
Irish, with the proceeding penalty giving the French pack and Dupont’s backs the perfect opportunity to score the first try of the day. However, catastrophe hit for Les Bleus at the 30th minute when Dupont limped off after rupturing ligaments in his knee following a nasty tackle. What was next for the French team? Benched Maxine Lucu came on as the replacement, who as far as subs go is a superb player and had a great personal game, but nothing on Dupont: much to France’s disappointment. Nevertheless, at the halfway point the score was still in France’s favour at 8-3.
A turbulent second half followed with a beautiful Irish converted try, but a second yellow card. For France, even without their star, the backs shone, with Ramos and Bielle-Biarrey having sensational games. Yet for the scrum-halves, the game continued to be pulled apart, with GibsonPark being substituted in the 68th minute for retiree Connor Murray. So with the two ring leaders of the game being off the
St Andrews United?
pitch by the last quarter, how much of the 42-27 French victory was down to them?
Well, even without both number nines playing the full 80 minutes, what this game showed is that both teams massively revolve around the style of their scrum-half. GibsonPark, and therefore Ireland’s game, is heavily focused on kicking to defend, and creating opportunities especially down the wing. Dupont and the French have a renowned ‘champagne flair’, which means a classy, opportunistic style to the game. This further proves that even with Dupont’s injury, France’s success in this game was largely due to how the style revolves around their captain. With an Irish defeat under their belts, the French team will be anticipating a mighty showdown against ‘The Tartan Army’ on Super Saturday, with their one-of-a-kind skipper and scrumhalf watching from the sidelines.
PATRICK MAITLAND Sport Writer
In all my time at this uni, I’ve never once met someone who’s watched the local football club play. Feeling curious, I went down to watch St Andrews United’s game against Dunbar United on Saturday to see what we’ve all been missing out on.
After I paid the concession fee of £5, I was surprised to find a healthy crowd of fans around the pitch. Around 150 people, men and women, old and young had come together to watch the Saints play. 30 away fans even made the four-hour round trip to watch their beloved Dunbar play. Unfortunately for them, their loyalty was not rewarded as St Andrews United walked away with a 2-0 win.
As a football fan, it’s easy to forget just how great the skills gap is in the sport. As a Sunday league player, I can appreciate that my team wouldn’t turn up to the Bernabeu and play Madrid off the park, but this match was a friendly reminder of just how good some people are. Despite the somewhat bobbly pitch, every player was entirely comfortable on the ball and in between lengthy phases of route one hoofball, there were many moments of genuine quality. The first goal for example was a clean strike from
outside the box after a mazy run, and every player on the pitch was capable of quick, one-touch football. Of all the players though, one stood out above the rest: centre back John Tod. When I asked around, I found out that he’s an eighteen-year old with big potential on loan from Dunfermline whose dad is a club legend over there. He was surprisingly agile for a defender, spinning strikers and surging past midfielders on multiple occasions. When I heard that he’d been named ‘Man of the Match’ four games in a row, I was hardly surprised. He was a big part in securing the clean sheet in what was a relegation crunch match. As long as he doesn’t get recalled from his loan, he could be a big factor in St Andrews staying in the East of Scotland Premier Division.
As entertaining as the game was, there’s always more to grassroots football than the performances. Founded in 1921, St Andrews United has formed a close relationship with the community, and I wanted to find out more about the club’s story. Thankfully, executive committee member Ellis Jaffray was more than happy to talk to me about everything Saints related. Having studied biochemistry at the University in the 1960s, Ellis is more than familiar with the town and what it means to live in St Andrews.
He even won the Uni’s Sunday league, which is sadly more than can be said for my team, the mighty BLFC. Perhaps that’s why, when I asked him about his favourite memories with St Andrews United, he mentioned seeing local lads play for the club.
Following on from this, I asked him what he thought about students coming to games, and his answer was not what I expected before meeting him. As students, we are all wary about the relationship with locals, which can at times feel a touch strained. I wondered if St Andrews was a chance for people to escape the noise made by us young people, but Ellis was quick to reject the notion. As with any small club, the bottom line is money, and students could be an important asset in improving finances. Following two promotions in three years, St Andrews United now find themselves facing teams with far bigger budgets who
can pay twice, and, in some cases, four times as much to players as they can. Even at an affordable £5, our attendance at games is more valuable than we might think. The future of the club was uncertain for a period, until businessman and now chairman Fraser Ogston bought the club as director of the Kinnettles Group. Having studied at Madras College, it’s fair to say that he embodies the community spirit that has kept the club alive for all these years. A greater student attendance could provide the extra cash injection to help them compete. My experience as a fan was an overwhelmingly positive one and showed me just how much the club means to people. Perhaps my favourite detail about the club is that they’re sponsored by student favourites Big Boss, who provide six orders of pizza and chips for the players at every home game. If that doesn’t make you want to get involved, I’m not sure what else will.
Illustration by Patrick Maitland
Over Land and Sea
Master’s student Alex Gerhardt on supporting his local football team
BEN BAGLEY Sport Writer
The heatmap of the average St Andrews student over the now rebranded ‘Spring Break’ resembles that of an invinciblesera Patrick Vieira. Whether a lads’ trip to Krakow or a romantic Parisian get away, the mass exodus of undergrads come the end of week five is biblical.
Rather than cramming his flip-flops into a Ryanair-approved rucksack, IR master’s student, Alex Gerhardt, set his sights on the German industrial city of Gelsenkirchen.
“I looked at the schedule over the break and saw we had a game against Schalke,” Gerhardt recounted his epic voyage to support his beloved Preußen Münster. “I had class the day before but was determined to get to the game.”
Alex comes from near Münster, a city in North-Rhine Westphalia most famous for its impressive cathedral. The cages that
held the mutilated corpses of Protestant dissidents still hang from the Lambertikirche today — well worth a google for any fans of sixteenth-century religious violence.
After stomaching the dreaded 6am Edinburgh Airport take off and enduring various regional trains, Gerhardt made it in time for kick-off at the Veltins-Arena — the scene of that Jude Bellingham bicycle kick as England fans will fondly remember.
“There were seven legs to my journey, but I made it in the end. That must be some kind of record.” For someone who struggles to make it to the Sports Centre in time for Tuesday night six-a-side, this is an impressive feat.
“Last season, I made it to almost every away game,” the 22-year-old juggled studying at the University of Münster with travelling the lengths of Germany in what was a promotion-winning season for ‘Die Adler’.
It’s been much harder for Alex to support his team since moving to the UK. “I’ve asked some of the pubs here if they’ll show the games, but they only seem to play the top
leagues.” Fife’s appetite for second-division European football is somewhat limited.
He’s been forced to improvise, bringing the matchday experience to his student flat. “I buy cheap beer from Aldi and some plastic cups and watch the game at home on my laptop. It’s the closest I can get to feeling like I’m in the stadium.”
There have been some memorable moments for the Preußen fan this season.
“Over the winter break, I went to the game against Hertha BSC at the Olympiastadion in Berlin, the third biggest stadium in Germany. We won, and afterwards, the team came out and celebrated with us.”
Gerhardt has enjoyed his share of Scottish Premiership action since coming to St Andrews. “I went to watch Dundee with a friend from Germany,” he tells me about his trip to Dens Park, home of the mighty Dee. “The atmosphere was quite different. There is more of a chanting culture back home.”
The so-called 50+1 rule in Germany means that all clubs in the top two
divisions are majority fan-owned, giving fans greater control over important areas of administration like ticket pricing. “Even at Bayern Munich, you can buy a standing ticket for about fifteen euros. It brings in a different crowd of people, which has a positive impact on the atmosphere.”
More disturbing to Alex was the lack of alcoholic beverages at the ground. “I was a bit shocked that there was no beer in the stadium.” Dundee’s electrifying brand of football seemingly not intoxicating enough for the young German.
As anyone who has watched Danny Dyer’s 2007 masterpiece ‘Football Hooligans International’ will tell you, football fanaticism transcends borders. Although not a hooligan, Alex Gerhardt’s commitment to his team goes well beyond your average armchair punter. The promise of a white sand beach and a strawberry daiquiri was never going to lure the Preußen Münster fanatic from a juicy away day.
Vamos! From Books to Rackets
MAY-LING TURNER Sport Writer
The Saint interviewed first-team tennis player and performance athlete Alvaro Chavez Ossio from Cochabama, Bolivia about his love for competitive sports and how he balances his time off and on the court.
Encouraged by his father’s support to try out tennis, Alvaro chose the tennis racquet over the football at the age of eight, quickly earning the nickname of ‘Chavo’ among his tennis peers.
He motivates himself and encourages his teammates, shouting “Vamos” on court after striking winning points, with his forehand being his biggest weapon. Don’t expect to go to a BUCS tennis match without also hearing the player’s and crowd’s favourite chant, “Allez”.
Having played college tennis in the States during his undergraduate degree, he was well prepared to play competitive tennis at St Andrews, where he also competes on indoor hard courts. With no wind, no unpredictable Scottish rain, or blinding sunlight on those rare summery days (if they even exist in Scotland), the conditions are always perfect.
The University of St Andrews Tennis Club has over 400 members, making it the largest student club, offering classes for all levels, from beginners to performance programmes. The top 40 men and 40 women in the club are selected to be a part of the competitive squads, where the very best women and male players in the University
are selected to be a part of the performance programme. The University encourages sporting and academic excellence.
For athletes like Alvaro, balancing academics and sports requires immense commitment and discipline. As a performance athlete, he trains twice a week in group sessions, has one individual coaching session, plays one BUCS match and completes two strength and conditioning sessions. Currently pursuing a postgraduate degree in finance, his dedication on court extends to his academics as well. Alvaro explains how he balances the world of both sport and academics: “It’s about organising your time well, going to bed early, not going to all events and parties.”
the ball, he finds the courage to go for every shot and fight for those winning points. His contribution to the first team has been an exciting time. He has enjoyed
decided at the fate of their teammates.
Alvaro spoke about how he has gotten closer to his teammates on the first team, including Ed Pomeory, Louis Rinaldo, Jaime Medrano, Timothy Moore, and Ivan Raath and says they are “talented players and fighters on the court. I really admire them and have played many memorable matches with them. When travelling to our match in Stirling, it was so fun having deep conversations on many topics! The people you meet from tennis are so nice.”
Tennis is an unpredictable sport full of pressure moments; one minute a player is up 5 to 1, and in the next few games, their opponent gains momentum to level the score to 5-5. An example of this is Mirra Andreeva, then 16, who made a miraculous comeback down from 1-5 against Parry to win the third-round match at the 2024 Australian Open. It is these moments that showcase the ability of tennis players to perform under immense pressure. Alvaro explains how he plays better under pressure and needs these moments to play his best. Instead of waiting for his opponent to miss
playing singles and doubles. The standout match for Alvaro was getting to the semifinal in the BUCS Tennis Individual Qualifiers in Stirling, the largest individual tennis competition in UK university tennis. On long travel days across Scotland, players get to really know their teammates “on another level,” from deep and emotional chats on life to funny and memorable moments, with match reports being a staple of any away game. Players are guaranteed to return to St Andrews with two things: being well fed by a traditional post-match tea from ‘Maccies’ and earning themself a nickname in match reports,
Interested not only in his own tennis, Alvaro takes a lot of inspiration from watching the pros play. His favourite tennis player is the up-and-coming eighteen-year-old tennis star Joao Fonseca, from Brazil. “He has a beautiful style and bright future,” says Alvaro. Alvaro is placing his predictions on Carlos Alcaraz and Iga Swiatek winning the French Open at the end of May.
Playing competitive tennis at university has been one of the biggest highlights for Alvaro at University. Sport is the opportunity to escape the world of studies — putting down those books and picking up the racquet — but not for too long, that 5000 word deadline you haven’t started is still due Monday.
Photo by SaintSportAU
SASHA WOLF Sport Writer
The Expansion of YogiSoc
Highlighting one of St Andrews’ most popular societies
If you’ve ever been to a YogiSoc class and haven’t shown up ten minutes early, you’ll find yourself struggling to find a spot towards the front. That’s because the St Andrews Yoga Society, coined Yogisoc for short, is only getting more popular. I learned this lesson in real time during my first few Yogisoc classes last semester. No matter if it was a Beginners Vinyasa, Hatha Flow, or Power Yoga session, the room was consistently packed with smiling yogis eager to get their hour of peace and movement during a busy day. I have experienced a variety of classes, from Gentle Flow sessions in the mornings to Mindful meditations in the afternoons. The classes are a welcome break from the rush of student life and provide the most affordable workout classes you’ll get in St Andrews. For non-members, the cost of a single session is £4. If you plan on making yoga a weekly staple, a class-pack provides a nice discount. As a yogi myself, I invested in the ten class-pack this semester. For £30, I get access to any ten sessions over the course of the semester (not including the free classes offered throughout each week). Classes are consistently located in the Union, and mats, blocks, and even blankets are always provided. One of my favorite classes thus far was the Sculpt and Stretch class, which took place this past February. Taught by second-year student Jasmin Juul Hansen, who has been CorePower trained, the class featured one hour of a yoga sculpt workout class. Following the workout was a five-minute break before a transition to a deep stretching and meditation class with
fifth-year integrated masters student Anna Conti. This class stood out as it wasn’t one of the ten classes routinely offered on Yogisoc’s weekly schedule. President and fourth-year student Anya Bodine-McCoy explained how this class was an example of how she and the committee are planning to expand Yogisoc by adding more classes in 601 this year. “I
think of yoga as sixty minutes of selfishness, when you can focus entirely on yourself. Yoga is about more than flexibility and poses. It’s about tuning into your body. You can just
Football v Football
by Anne-Carter Riggs
Since arriving in this Scottish town, the words I use have been found silly by many Brits: ‘trunk’ instead of ‘boot’, ‘fries’ instead of ‘chips’, and ‘soccer’ instead of ‘football’. Saying the term ‘soccer’ is especially met with disgust, so much so that Americans here will conform and call it ‘football’. It never made sense to me that Americans called it ‘soccer’, such a drastically different word. So, why did I grow up calling such an old sport a different name than what it is known as in its place of origin? Well,
a quick Google search and apparently the angst I have received for calling football ‘soccer’ is a bit hypocritical. The term ‘soccer’ was actually created in England as an abbreviation for ‘Association Football’ to distinguish it from ‘Rugby Football’, according to Stefan Szymansky in his paper It’s Football, not Soccer. The usage was adopted by Americans who picked it up during World War II. Since America had started using ‘soccer’ as well, Szymansky hypothesises, the UK decided to revert back to using ‘football’. Yet another example of the UK doing anything and everything to distinguish themselves from their bratty child, the USA.
lie on your back for an hour if you want. There’s no room for external or disturbing thoughts,” Bodine-McCoy remarked. I asked Bodine-McCoy a question that had been in the back of my mind during YogiSoc sessions: Are all of these instructors fellow St Andrews students? Currently, eight out of the ten YogiSoc instructors are students, and the other two are members of the wider St Andrews community.
BodineMcCoy described how the selection process works for recruiting teachers. In order to be a YogiSoc instructor, you must have received two hundred hours of certified yoga training and a certification from an official yoga school. After receiving your certification, you can attend teacher auditions.
These auditions take place in August, and the committee hires for the upcoming year.
Bodine-McCoy became a certified yoga instructor in December 2021 and began
No judgement here: Americans get off on their differences from the rest of the world. We also give it right back. Poor David Beckham got harassed a couple years ago for his FIFA commercial for chips, oh sorry, crisps. At the end of the day, we all lose, because apparently the true inventors of kicking a ball were soldiers at a secondcentury Chinese military camp. So, the next time you feel high and mighty over what a sport is called, maybe check your sources.
teaching recently. It was important to her that she receive her training in person as opposed to online, which she acknowledged was an expensive process: “The certification itself was pretty costly, not including travel fees and other expenses.” Seeing how inconvenient the process could be for students, she and other committee members wanted to subsidise the process of yoga certification and make it more accessible. “We knew the cost was a barrier for students and YogiSoc had the budget to help,” Bodine-McCoy said. Second-year committee member Edie Carruthers approached the committee with the idea for a scholarship, and the YogiSoc Teaching Scholarship was born. With applications open until 31 March, this program gives two students the necessary funding to receive their yoga certification at a yoga school of their choice. The recipients are expected to complete their two hundred hours of training by the end of 2025. “My training lasted fifteen days and the two hundred hours also included independent training, reading, and lectures,” Bodine-McCoy reflected. You don’t need to be interested in teaching to give YogiSoc a go. The ultimate goal of the society is for students to leave feeling better about themselves. Although the club is still relatively young, having been founded in 2018, it shows no signs of slowing down. You can check the YogiSoc Instagram page on Sundays to access their schedule for the upcoming week. Maybe try out a free Sun Salutations class on East Sands or a Gentle Flow class in the large rehearsal room to boost your mood and increase your weekly wellness. With a variety of classes to choose from, relaxation is within reach!
