The Pessimism and Occasional Optimism of Juvenile Adulthood

During my first two years of University, this blog entry served as my ad hoc portfolio of articles for The Student newspaper in Edinburgh. Articles were arranged from newest to oldest and are still listed below. Following upgrades to The Student's own website, my profile there now provides links to my articles for the newspaper. Also detailed there are my roles within the newspaper, including spells as Editor-in-Chief and Deputy E-i-C during the Edinburgh Fringe Festivals of 2022 and 2023.  Year Two Come Dine with Us - thoughts on a student experiment  (Lifestyle) June 2022 Sentimental kitsch - the wonders of Eurovision  (Opinion) May 2022 Zelenskyy: A true Servant of the People  (Opinion) March 2022 The tragedy of Ukraine and the demise of meaningful dialogue  (Opinion) February 2022 The battle the BBC didn't want  (Opinion) January 2022 A cop-out COP  (Opinion/Satire) November 2021 A Green Quandary: Slater, Harvie and Government  (Opinion)...

 Since starting University in the strangest of times, the reality of higher education has simultaneously bowled me over and left me distinctly underwhelmed. Maybe as the intensity slowly winds up (with first assessments due in 4 weeks time) things will feel different but for now, I feel in a unique state of limbo, one worth expressing in words. Words which will certainly not be my best, but words better out than in, in any event. Today (Thursday 1st October) began for me at 5:10 AM when I was woken up by my alarm to go and play badminton. Why anyone would choose to play badminton at 6 AM would normally be beyond me, but the opportunity to leave my flat is simply too great. But after the early start, I soon settled into a inherently unsettling routine of productive morning (pre-recorded lectures, notes, cups of tea etcetera), lunch, procrastinating patch of DOOM! Perhaps I'm being melodramatic but I doubt it. This is a period, where I think for prolonged periods about the merits of ...

Saying that this year’s Tour de France had the most dramatic climax of my lifetime is not anywhere near the compliment it deserves. As Tadej Pogacar made fellow Slovenian Primoz Roglic walk the plank of Belles Filles, we were witnessing not only the emergence of a new precocious talent, yet to turn 22 by the time he stands on the top step of the podium, but perhaps a symbolic changing of the guard in Grand Tour racing. The 2020 tour will see Pogacar claim three of the four jerseys, all in which we can see a clear pattern favouring new emerging talent – many of whom are just experiencing their first Grande Boucle. After dramatically losing the yellow jersey to Greg LeMond and his aero bars in 1989, Laurent Fignon cut a disconsolate figure, finding himself subsequently unable to seriously challenge for the overall title in subsequent years. Roglic is older than Fignon was back then, and whilst he remains an undoubtedly strong rider, it is easy to draw comparisons between the two runner...

This Friday marks many things - just like any other day. But the 8th May, as well as being the anniversary of VE Day, and the birthday of David Attenborough, is my birthday, and my 18th no less. The result of this is that I will have to close the door on my childhood and make the short walk down the corridor into adulthood, where my childhood will only be subsequently viewable through my memory window, which will inevitably be blurred and misted by time. Therefore, I've decided to write about my adolescence as a whole before I'm compelled into either renaming or archiving this blog. Treatise One - Reflections on my evolution in Blogs I think I continually underestimate the way in which Explorers, and indeed Scouting has shaped my life, even if I think about it frequently. I joined Explorers a slightly insular eccentric - bereft of meaning but able to make people smile either with my eclectic interests or my peculiar mannerisms, many of which I retain today. I've alw...

First-hand, if slightly incoherent, reflections on two of the most unusual weeks. There appears to be a great irony in that being surrounded by the people you love and care for most, can make you want to move apart from them all the more. I guess this is just the principle of moderation, yet it appears to be particularly exacerbated when forced companionship is put upon you. In many ways, I am fortunate to have only my mother in the house for company - her ability to work from home meaning she can self-isolate from me, as well as Coronavirus, with relative ease. There have honestly been moments where I have wanted to self-isolate from myself, days where the minute hand could so easily be confused for the hour. Yet I have made it, as indeed we all have, and this should be celebrated - albeit once again in moderation. Each day has typically consisted of me lounging about the house for half of it wishing I could actually write some essay or another (more about why this is the case la...

It’s back! Following on from the moderate success of my Berlin review last year, I’m back reviewing our cultural excursion to Belgium. Given this is written on a coach journey en route to Blighty, excuse any typos... A long coach journey was passed by reading and listening to my music, interspersed only by listening to other people’s music - some of which I wouldn’t classify as such. By the time we arrived in Bruges, morale was draining and stomachs were feeling empty. Initiative was taken though to ensure we feasted on pizza. Except by ‘we’ I mean the 4 of us in the same room. Everyone else went hungry, not that I particularly cared at that point, the allure of an itchy blanket and a weird pillow somewhat attractive after a long day. Friday started for 3 of us with a jog into Bruges just before the sun rose. Bereft of people, the Belfry tower and Burg square could be marvelled without the prying crowds of selfie-sticks and en masse tour groups. Following a mediocre breakfast, we as a ...