In light of the most recent drama at the Oscars – that, frankly, I am still cackling about – I wanted to focus some attention on Moonlight, which has been tragically living in La La Land’s shadow for the last few months.
Remember the dark day in 2016 when Glitterball had no glitter? Well, that wasn’t a problem this year. I am still blinking glitter out of my eyeballs and it’s been two days.
Drag Walk is one of my favourite St Andrews events. It’s a time for the Barbour jackets and white converses to be safely tucked away, and for the lingerie, fur jackets and fishnets to finally see the glaring lights of 601, with all proceeds going to Scottish Trans Alliance. From the the electric pink fairy covered in glitter flitting around all evening, to the two girls who had decided to shackle themselves together at the neck, I couldn’t help but feel entirely underdressed and miserable that I hadn’t put in the effort.
There is a particular frisson to the Mermaids Christmas Ball that you either love or hate— and, generally, people belonging to the latter party are people who have cold memories of sitting in the rain at 3am. Thankfully they made the decision to move to online ticket sales which, while causing a lot of controversy, meant there weren’t students dying of hypothermia clogging up the streets in the early hours of a Scottish winter morning. In a St Andrews with events failing left, right and centre, Christmas Ball will never not sell out; something the Mermaids are right to be thrilled with, as it enables them to take shows to the Fringe every summer in the name of #art.
Sitara* will always have a fond corner of my heart. In my first year it was one of my favourite events I had ever been to. It was inclusive, it was well-done, it was a drunken milieu of limbs all fighting to be closer to the catwalk and I loved every second. Last year it lost its way a little, but this year it seems to have attempted to fight back to its prowess of two years ago.
BINDI and Hot Dub, my two favourite nights, in the same week. It was a very good week. If you haven’t been, go to the next one, and if you did go, you know this already. The Sanskriti society know how to throw a good party, and they did not disappoint.
I understand that everyone reading this won’t be an English Literature student, and that for most reading is far less important than, say, their jobs (pesky, pesky jobs.) Allow me, the girl who has done an extensive amount of legwork in this area, to inform you of the classics that are actually a pleasure to read. Not all of us want to scour our way through War and Peace in the original Russian (hollah my mother,) so here are some lovely and easy-to-read options for your morning commute. And then casually talk about with your parents and/ or elderly relatives over slightly distasteful glasses of wine.
Villains appeal to the basic desires we cultivate from our earliest bedtime stories. They taught us right from wrong, good from bad, and continue to impact the decisions we make into adulthood; that is, if whoever read to you used the voices, otherwise you’re on your own. Antagonists, as we get older, become infinitely more complex than the simple archetypes for jealousy or wrath. Good antagonists, even more so. But they’re what we remember long after the book has been renegaded to the shelf. They’re the characters that truly frighten us, that we hate, or even that we understand the most. I’ll go through these categories and find you the perfect book for those of you who secretly wish for world-domination, or even just to give you an excuse to throw your book against the wall. Apologise to your book bindings, and please don’t break your kindle. Here we go.
Italy. Even being half Italian with a name like Francesca, it still confuses me. I have been coming to Italy my entire life, and have seen far more than any normal British tourist would have seen. I have drunk home made limoncello on a roof terrace with Giuseppe and Julio in Liguria. I have eaten antipasti and danced the samba in a tiny Roman restaurant to bring in the New Year. I have seen more Berninis and da Vincis than you can shake a stick at, made fresh pasta with my nonna, and been gifted flowers from a Vespa-driving stranger with a cry of ‘bella, cara.’ So you could say I’m a little bit of an expert.