“That is the best music I’ve heard in St Andrews.” This was something I heard more than once last night, during and after Goldfish’s early set. By nine thirty, the queue was splling over into the Union bar. By ten, Venue 1 was packed out, sweaty and jubilant. The contrast to Bombay Bicycle Club’s tardy, lazy and depressing set during Refresher’s week could not have been more marked.
“You better take these for Zim”, my father joked, thrusting a wad of US dollar bills into my hand as I left for the airport. Following the collapse of their own currency, the Benjamin Franklin is king in Zimbabwe. The spiralling decline of Zimbabwe from bread basket of Africa to the continent’s basket case has been widely reported. It was therefore unsurprising that my parents were more than a little wary of my escapades last summer.