In conversation with: Alec Tiffou, Orli Wilkins and Sonya Luchanskaya
Susie: “Alec, would you say you have a niche as a writer?” Orli: “Fucked up shiiiiiiit.” Alec: “Thanks for that, Orli.” While the King’s Arms is not the most conducive spot to conduct an interview—who would’ve guessed— it feels fitting. It’s a
In conversation with: Kingfisher
As the finals of my Music degree ended, and the long-awaited summer vac finally appeared on the horizon, I sat down with one of my favourite bands. Many of them had also completed similar exams in the non-too-distant past. I had been rationing their music throughout the whole of
Icon of the Week – President of Wolfson College and Former Ambassador to Japan
Stupidly, I am sat facing away from the private lake and stretch of river that explains why Wolfson College are so much better than us at rowing (I go to Oriel, sorry). Sir Tim Hitchens, KCVO, CMG is sat opposite me with quite a fancy coffee. I was offered one but have […
The unspoken debt: Starmer’s missed chance on reparations
Ambling about at his first Commonwealth banquet, an awkward Keir Starmer clutches his glass of bubbly, radiating his bare-boned exuberance that leaves him as isolated as the island on which they stand—Samoa, adrift in the Pacific. As both guest and intruder, the newly minted, progres
PRESSURE POINT – Paddington in Peru: a jar of marmalade and migration?
Minor spoilers for Paddington in Peru I love Paul King’s Paddington film trilogy; it’s like the modern Godfather—debate over whether the first or second are the best, with a general consensus that the third doesn’t live up to its predecessors. Except Paddington doesn’t featur
Black history through the Isis archives
Stepping into the Oxford Union to find the Isis archives, I felt both excited and a bit wary. Stacks of student’s opinions, discussions, and commentary stretched before me, a huge tapestry of voices waiting to be explored. Somewhere within these pages, I hoped Black history was there too. B
Icon of the Week: Crepe O Mania
On many a cold frigid day in Michaelmas, or hollow awful afternoon of Hilary, or boozy and floozy morning of Trinity—when many a game of croquet was played, and many a bad decision was regretted—I found myself with the most wonderful of companions. No matter the season, I would walk down
How I learnt to stop worrying and love the hospital
It wasn’t until I nearly bled out on the couch on a random Thursday night that I’d realised the severity of what had been happening to me over the past three months. On the television, a film about Sir Nicholas Winton (that adorable old man from the viral video who saved a bunch [&
We are not a muse: the role of women in the history of art
Artemisia Gentileschi raises her paintbrush to the canvas, completely absorbed in her work. With her stained hand, her dishevelled hair and the muted shades of her dark green and brown clothing, Gentileschi refuses to let her body be perceived as ornamental. Rejecting the role of the idealise