Luchino Visconti’s Il Gattopardo (The Leopard) is acclaimed as being the centrepiece of Italy’s golden era of cinema – and rightly so. Based on Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s same-titled novel, its spectacular sweep follows the noble Salina family as they struggle against the changes sweeping their country in the wake of the Resorgimento (the official unification of Italy).

Burt Lancaster plays Prince Salina, a man caught between his recognition of the need for change, and his dislike of the new things that will inevitably replace him. Originally brought in against Visconti’s wishes, Lancaster’s Salina draws the audience’s attention throughout the film’s three hours, capturing the delicious decadence of the film in what many have seen as a performance based on the director himself.

The famous ballroom scene is an extravaganza of visuals, sounds, and scripting. Claudia Cardinale plays Angelica to stunning perfection, and the camera languishes on her in a manner reminiscent of Victor Fleming’s techniques in Gone with the Wind. The language of the film isn’t much changed from that of the book, and consequently retains its literary sophistication. From the pervasive presence of death to the issue of the South personified by Sicily’s disabling heat and cruel landscape, the film offers itself as a veritable feast of scenes and ideas.

Despite being an avowed Marxist, Visconti’s obsession with lavish display, drama, and richness of detail often worked to the detriment of any message contained within his films. Nevertheless, Il Gattopardo can only be described as glorious, and is an absolute must see.

Young people have been the favoured scapegoat for many years now, with an emphasis placed by most on tackling teenage binge drinking and general loutish behaviour (oops). New statistics, however, are revealing a growing number of women aged 35 and above exceeding their advised intake, and a rise in middle class immoderate drinkers. The problem is no longer just about those of us who choose to get absolutely slaughtered on a weekly basis, but about the older generations polishing off bottles of wine or several pints every night with the justification that they’ve “earned it” after a long day at work.

The new campaign, therefore, has taken a different approach. Killing two birds with one stone, the government has come to the decision to merge binge drinking with England’s other big problem: obesity. To scare off the weight conscious drinkers out there, their main aim is to emphasise the calorie content of the average adult’s tipple every night. So let’s look at this in real terms. Drinking a pint of premium lager is the equivalent of stuffing your face with a veritable feast of two mini pork pies. And don’t even ask about your two vodka shots (a whole dollop of single cream).

In some ways it’s possible that it could work. The calorie content of an average night out works out as somewhere between 1000-1500 kcal (based on a few glasses of wine/pints, a vodka mixer or two, and some tequila shots), and can range from 15-20 units. This is fairly shocking, especially when you factor in those cheesy chips and packets of crisps, but it’s more likely to encourage people to work out what has the most alcohol for the least calories (spirits), rather than change the amount they drink.

Once again, the government has chosen to deal with the symptoms of the problem rather than address the root. It doesn’t take a genius to work out that the main thing that makes people want to get drunk is stress, so why not try tackling this? Using calorie content is only going to stir up resentment about government interference, and worse, point people in the direction of calorie-light alternatives, which just happen to be the most alcoholic. So, nice try, but I think I’ll take another few fish fingers, thank you.

Which version of each one came into your head? Was it Angelina Jolie, or the real Lara Croft? Bob Hoskins, or the bouncing cluster of pixels we know simply as Mario? You probably didn’t even know that Bob Hoskins had anything to do with the beloved character of Mario, which leads to the question: what is the appeal of film adaptations of video games, and why are some more successful than others?

The film Super Mario Bros. was the first ever video-game-cum-film (VGCF), and actually ended up grossing $8,532,623 on its release in 1993. Based around the story of two plumber brothers in Brooklyn (oh yes, Luigi was brought to life too) and their adventures, other familiar characters such as Yoshi and Princess Peach also make an appearance. The film was slated at the time for a lack of consistency with the game, with one reviewer stating sharply: “First off, Super Mario Bros. takes place in the Mushroom Kingdom, a happy place that has been taken over by King Koopa (a.k.a Bowser) and its people forced to mindlessly obey his will. Mario has to defeat Bowser to bring peace back to the Mushroom Kingdom. We all know that.”

The film has since been reappraised however, with bloggers commenting that: “Making a live-action adaptation of a side-scrolling platform video game was obviously a challenge, but the result is a creative, original and fun movie that could never be replaced by an animation. A movie that strictly adhered to every detail of the games could have easily lacked the human depth and imagination shown in this film.” Although the “human depth and imagination” part is questionable, the basic premise is correct. Turning a videogame into a film carries with it a number of problems, perhaps the most crucial of which is a lack of plot.

This slight hitch was not picked up on for a while however. The classic 90s beat-em-up Street Fighter was next to hit the cinemas and fail appallingly, quickly followed by Mortal Kombat, which was actually significantly more popular. Gamers praised the latter for its dedication to the story of the game, and for the fantastic fight scenes. One reviewer commented: “Few movies in recent years can match the grittiness and pure painfulness of these fights. A story of revenge, pride, weakness, determination, friendship, life and death.” For those interested in movies that encompass just about every theme humanity could throw at you, plus lots of “gritty” fight scenes, it is worth looking up Pokémon: The First Movie, so named because they were clearly already planning the next 11.

Pikachu and company aside, fight scenes are clearly an incredibly important aspect of videogames-turned-movies. This was what the gaming community, predominantly teenage males, wanted, and this is what they would be expecting from any film adaptations too. This was probably, to be fair, what attracted many directors to adapt the games in the first place. The catch to this, however, was that in order for a film to be successful, it has to appeal to a much larger market than just teenage boys, and a film consisting entirely of a series of ridiculous fight scenes scattered amongst the rotting bones of a plotline was never going to break out of this audience.

Cue Lara Croft, the answer to problems you never even knew existed. Whilst not by a long way the only main character in a computer game created by a bunch of horny nerds, she is certainly the most famous, thanks to the ever-plump lips of Angelina Jolie. Interestingly, the female leads in many of the VGCFs share similarities. They are all empowered, not necessarily in the way they dress, but in the way they behave; carelessly, free. They do not listen to the men around them, and do not spend their time whimpering after a happy ending, or worse, love. They can all defend themselves, and more than this, are better at fighting than the characters around them. They are all orphans, consequentially portrayed as outcasts from society searching for their purpose or identity. They are also, it cannot be ignored, all constantly in a state of semi-undress. Lara Croft, Resident Evil’s bio-hero Alice, BloodRayne’s vampire Rayne… The conclusion? These are male characters in women’s bodies and not much else. It certainly ticks another box though, and out of all the movies made from video games over the last decade and a half, Lara Croft: Tomb Raider is by far the most popular, having made $274 million since its release in 2001.

Resident Evil followed similar principles for success. From the casting of the very attractive supermodel Mila Jovovich in the lead role to the merging of the need for lots of fight scenes with the then-popular theme of zombies, Paul Anderson, perhaps heady from the fame of his Mortal Kombat films, wasn’t exactly doing anything new.

It wasn’t until the first (but definitely not the last) Final Fantasy film that VGCFs really came into their own. A Japanese creation, the Final Fantasy video games were born out of a completely different mindset from previously mentioned games, and can be seen as the climax in the long and slow development of the emphasis on game narrative. Director Hironobu Sakaguchi said of himself, “I don’t think I have what it takes to make a good action game; I think I’m better at telling a story.” Tell a story he did.

There are 28 Final Fantasy games and counting. Each one stands alone as a story but also features recurring character archetypes and gameplay. The score, by Nobuo Uematsu, has been acclaimed internationally, and the preoccupation with environmental destruction and the power and beauty of the elements is typical of Japanimé. The films, Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (2001) and Final Fantasy VII: The Advent Children (2005) stay loyal to these details; most gamers were hard pressed to fault either, other than in a purely filmic sense.

What makes these films so revolutionary in terms of VGCFs is that they were computer animated, allowing for filming angles not previously possible, and battle sequences beyond what could normally be created. Animation also had the important effect of establishing the film as a true fantasy. Whilst other VGCFs had to reach for as exotic locations as they could manage, countries such as China, Vietnam, or else create alternate realities in the Western world, Final Fantasy could cut straight through the limitations imposed by the scenes and landscapes of the world we know so well, and paint an entirely different world in front of our eyes. Even Super Mario Bros. tried to set their film in modern day Brooklyn, albeit with an alternate dinosaur world below, but Final Fantasy felt no need for realism, and consequentially managed to capture the true appeal of video games, that is, escapism, with all the added benefits of a film.

That said, the fantasy aspect is prevalent in other VGCFs. 2007 saw the unhappy release of BloodRayne II: Deliverance, a sequel to the equally disastrous BloodRayne. Both were based on the eponymous action game about a vampire seeking revenge on her father for the rape of her mother. Uwe Boll directed both of both movies, as well as a whole of host of similarly distressing movies based on videogames, 3 of which occupy a coveted place in Time’s Top 10 worst VGCFs. A dubious legend in his own field, he is a shoo-in for ‘Worst Career Achievement’ at the 29th Golden Raspberry Awards later this month. When a rumour circulated that Boll would helm a Metal Gear Solid movie, its creator Hideo Kojima quickly responded in his audioblog: “Absolutely not! It’s impossible that we’d ever do a movie with him.”

Although both of the BloodRayne movies were abysmal, it is the gothic elements of the movie which are interesting to note, especially once one realises that such elements echo in nearly every single VGCF made. From vampires in BloodRayne to the Goth dress in Final Fantasy there is a dark element to these films which is captured in the way the characters dress. The sinister side of characters and settings is consistently prioritised, with religion being a particularly easy way into this. Silent Hill, arguably one of the best VGCFs to date, makes special use of this, with the Church and ideas of the devil and Hell (called the Otherworld in the game), playing a pivotal role. Not only does this heighten the sense of fantasy in the games and their film adaptations, but it also plays on one of the most fundamental aspects of any video game, the definition of good and evil, who to trust and who to fight.

There is clearly a lot of potential in video games for the creation of engaging and entertaining films, yet most of them fall far short of these criteria. Gamers will always find something to criticise in adaptations of their beloved worlds, be it the depiction of the characters or a misrepresentation of the atmosphere. Whether a film sticks to the game or strays from it, it will never be quite right. Perhaps the crux of the matter lies in the fact that video games provide something that films can’t: the ability to become the character, to make choices and affect the sequence of events. When you watch a film, you are a spectator watching the action; when you play a video game, you transform into someone else living in another world. A film may never be able to provide the same satisfaction as a video game, although there is hope, as long as Uwe Boll never has another go.

Burlesque is a concept with a widely misunderstood meaning. Very different from the seedy pole dancing of a Spearmint Rhino club, burlesque is in fact traditionally a performance genre of comedy, satire and acrobatics: less strip, more tease.

It began in Victorian Britain, when upper class entertainments such as opera, ballet and theatre were doing a roaring trade, and when the glimpse of an ankle was considered deeply erotic. The response from the lower classes? Burlesque. A medley of farce, dance and music, often featuring pastiches of current songs and productions.

The craze was quickly exported to the United States of America where English Burlesque’s humour merged with the vaudeville culture of variety theatre and gaudiness.

Since then the genre has snow-balled, adapting to each decade’s desires, and morphing in both meaning and form. It absorbed ideas from Paris’ notorious Moulin Rouge, as well as American trans-sexual and trans-gender shows. It dropped the anti-class pretensions and elements of musical and theatrical parody.

Now, burlesque, or neo-burlesque as some people would have it called, is having a revival. From the Pinchbottom Burlesque club in New York, to The Speakeasy on Gillygate in our own York, the performance genre is more popular and accessible than ever.

What entices burlesque artists to perform when they no longer need to push the erotic envelope, or rebel against elitist entertainment?

Roxy Velvet, an English burlesque star, elaborates: “I love being on stage, it feels like where I belong. Sometimes it’s testing because you have to live out of a suitcase and appear to be on form no matter what. There is so much to be considered; costume, props, music, choreography. I can’t imagine doing anything else, I’ve been performing all my life on different platforms. I never set out to be a ‘burlesque’ dancer; I was just swept up in burlesque’s glamour.”

A Roxy Velvet show transports you into a whole other world. Each mini show, of which there are dozens, really does create what Roxy calls a “micro world” from the stranded mermaid with the sailor, to the snow queen performed to Vivaldi’s ‘Winter’, every detail meticulously executed.

She is inspired by the early to mid-twentieth century, a time when sexuality was more hidden, and this is shown in her use of vintage underwear, costume and make up. “I adore vintage circus and I constantly refer to Taschen’s Circus and a film called The Greatest Show on Earth. I watch a lot of old movies and am perpetually star struck by glamorous silver screen icons like Grace Kelly and Marlene Dietrich.”

One of her shows sees Roxy Velvet as a crisp 1940’s nurse ‘shredding her immaculate dress, piercing herself with needles, cutting herself open, and wrenching and ripping her organs out before dying during an erotic crescendo of a fountain of blood. In this chilling and seductive character she becomes a pure object for narcissistic masochistic destruction and pornographic defilement.’ According to Roxy, however, this “masochistic” element is not at all common in her shows, “I wanted to make a gore show based on the precedents of striptease. The performer is both aggressive and vulnerable, exposing herself and permitting the audience to experience it.”

Another more common and less controversial feature of her shows is the Birdcage. “It works on so many levels because it’s frivolous and larger than life but also practical as it acts an aerial rig and a performance platform,” Roxy explains. “A birdcage is an allegory for the containment of something vulnerable, precious, beautiful or possible dangerous. For me it harks back to the old circus days when rare animals and beautiful freaks would be displayed in cages and boxes.”

Clearly burlesque performance artists have plenty to give, but Roxy is adamant about what it takes: “Blood, sweat and sequins!”

Isn’t it great to be English? Rain, mud, cups of tea, countryside institutions such as Harry Hall, Barbour and Hunter… It’s not that we’re ashamed, just not particularly proud. The only time it is acceptable to sport any of the above is when looking good is apparently not the issue at hand. When walking the dog, for example, or popping round to granny’s.

But for some, the traditional English style is exactly what they aspire to emulate. And when I say ‘traditional’, I mean the bizarrely romanticised version of our countryside lifestyle espoused by designers such as Ralph Lauren. His flagship store in New York is located in the Rhinelander Mansion, a shrine to all things supposedly upper class and English. Oil paintings of horses and sullen children adorn every mahogany wall; polished shooting guns sit on shelves; cashmere scarves drape themselves over stag antlers; the whole store is based around a warped idea of the local Yorkshire farmer on a Hollywood budget.

This Anglophilia is reflected in his designs too. From monocles and fitted tweed jackets to riding crops and boots, some of Lauren’s favoured details are incredibly English in their origin, even if their preppy presentation and jockey associations make them incredibly American in result.

Burberry Prorsum is another designer powerhouse caught up in a love affair with all things English. Established by Thomas Burberry in 1856, the company became famous for gabardine, a comfortable yet waterproof fabric for riding, shooting, and other soggy country pursuits. In 1914, Burberry invented the trench coat as practical wear in World War I for officers in the trenches. Today, Burberry prides itself on being a distinctly British label, using Kate Moss in several of its campaigns, and with Yorkshire born-and-bred Christopher Bailey as Creative Director. Their latest collection was inspired by his “own garden in Yorkshire, and a Thames & Hudson book on eccentric Brits called Garden People – never types to be daunted by a bit of mud.” The looks, however, remain clean, muted, and classic, retaining their international appeal rather than indulging any real “eccentricity”.

A fashion article on Anglophiles could never be complete without a mention of (to use the fashion media’s term) Dame Vivienne Westwood. The fashion world loves her. Throughout her collections and career she has never abandoned ‘Britishness’. Of course, we are talking a wholly different strand of Britishness from anything that Ralph Lauren would even consider touching with a polo stick. We are talking 60s Britain, the era of punk, tartan, political consciousness, rebellion, safety pins and Union Jack flags. This is a woman who set up a separate line called ‘Anglomania’, comprising of tartan suits, ball gowns and fake fur corsets. Even her logo, an orb floating in a ring, reflects the orb of the British Crown Jewels, but with a punk twist. It is also a very clear reworking of the Harris Tweed logo, an opaque reference to how much her work is influenced by one of the most quintessentially English fabrics available.

There are other designers who give the rest of the world a glimpse of what the idea of Britishness means to them. Luella has an obsession with all things equestrian, whilst Dolce and Gabbana recently ran a campaign which depicted a group of people decked entirely in tartan standing outside a country house, complete with dogs, horses, a Land Rover and a very old but proud looking lady in a checked headscarf. It is interesting that in this day and age, as the sense of what makes someone British becomes increasingly intangible and indefinable, the most notorious British and Anglophile  designers feel the need to recapture days gone by in order to keep hold of that essence.

It is hard to make out exactly what I am looking at – the blurred shapes and diffused colours seem to be hinting at something just beyond my grasp – but before I can make it out, the slide changes, and another image, this time clearer, takes it place. A series of chains suspends what looks like molten clouds of mercury and lead, all of it hanging precariously against a warm tawny orange background. This is the title piece for 42 year old student Paul Ashton’s ‘You do you just don’t’ exhibition at Leeds Met University, and instantly recognizable as one his most striking works. Made using mouldy paint, the whole collection is a return to what Ashton calls the true purpose of art, the aesthetic. “I wanted to make things that looked beautiful, and pretty; things that were nice to look at.”

His work, however, is on the whole much more than simply “nice” to look at. Everything seems to be vertically suspended, channelling a curious tension reminiscent of Dali. He has chosen to project his work in a sequence of slides onto various half constructed walls, which forces audience and art to interact with interesting results. “I like the way the architecture of the room informs the art and the way people view it. just like in everyday life, really,” he muses. Indeed, the pieces almost come alive when someone moves in the way of the projectors, instantly distorting in shape and shade, momentarily wrapping themselves around the unaware person, who quickly
scuttles out of the way.

The projectors are placed in awkward places on purpose, to encourage this sort of interplay. Just as in life, our environment dictates how we see the things around us, and sometimes we must shift our viewpoint in order to see the full picture, or at least to gain a different perspective. Art, Ashton claims, is a chance for man to step back and observe, to stand still amongst all the rush and point out something beautiful to the world.

To demonstrate this point, he draws my attention to a TV in the corner of the room. For 70 long minutes, it plays a recording of Ashton sitting still in a chair with a piece of bread in hand put halfway into his open mouth, and his other hand resting on his leg. Although apparently motionless, when you look closely, especially towards the end, you can see his hand trembling, his mouth drooling, even his body swaying. In an attempt to get us to notice the small things, the artist freezes himself, proving instead that motionless objectivity is impossible to achieve.

This winter, it’s all in the detail. From feathers to lace; asphyxiating necklines to clinging silhouettes; it’s the finer points of an outfit that will make you stand out through the following months. The most important detail, however is the colour, or rather the lack of it. Black is nothing new in fashion, nor does is it a particularly surprising trend forecast to predict the popularity of dark colours in such traditionally dark months. But this time, black is back with a twist: a neo-gothic twist.
Yves Saint Laurent’s autumn/winter 2008 ready to wear collection encapsulated this new concept perfectly. Austere yet erotic, the sleek, jet-black pudding bowl haircuts complimented the sharply cut swathes of dark fabric, creating a clean but statement gothic look ideal for the season ahead.
It was a look that resonated in the details of many of the other 2008 Autumn/Winter shows. Despite having debuted last spring, for the average person, it is to these shows which we look to for our winter wardrobe. Derek Lam used black lace to create a feminine take on the visor, partially obscuring half of the face with a dominatrix aesthetic, and grungy lace gauntlets adorned the arms of Giambattista Valli’s models. Lace tights, ripped or otherwise, were a staple adopted by many designers, including Rodarte, and their trend-status was further confirmed, or perhaps destroyed, by their unrestrained usage by current “It” girl, Alice Dellal. Without following Dellal’s misjudged example, lace is an easily obtainable fabric to accessorize a simple ponytail or a bare neck.
Dark lace also featured heavily in the Prada collection, covering the feminine form with the heavy but irresistible design. Alexander McQueen used lace liberally to tie together and update his twist on Russian ballerina and peasant clothing. The simultaneous sheerness and opaqueness of lace is part of its allure. Neo-goth is both revealing and disguising; sober and playful; disarming and charged, just like lace. Prada’s beige, orange and powder blue undergarments lightened the mood, displaying controlled explosions of colour in an otherwise sombre affair with striking effect.
In keeping with this seamless juxtaposition of qualities, the most covetable offshoot of this winter trend is the obsession with plumage. Silky black with a bottle green iridescence, or speckled and striped; the most captivating aspect of the new gothic look is the one that flies in the face of conventional ideas of texture and pattern. Feathers were championed by Marchesa to create soft but vampish pieces, and by the grandmother of goth, Comme des Garçons’ Rei Kawakubo, as glorious embellishment for the womanly figure. Mary-Kate Olsen, arguably the grand-daughter of goth, successfully channelled the raven-like spirit of the trend with her Lily et Cie dress and Aliah belt combination.
Shoes involved a bondage take on the high-heeled platform. From Ruffian’s black leather gladiator style, to the patent fetish of Dior and the punky buckles and straps of Givenchy; footwear was all about the darker side of authority. New Look and Topshop sell shoes that tap into this exact aspect of neo-goth, or alternatively, searches on Ebay return a substantial number of rather more hardcore results. Tight ebony leather leggings or trousers are flattering against the exaggerated chunkiness of the foot, and are best worn matte by day, and shiny by night. Givenchy’s chain laden example of urban gothica captured the attitude needed to fully embrace this way of dressing, even if the shape is undesirably thin, whilst Burberry Prorsum’s oversized black beanies added a further unisex, wearable detail to the style sheet.

Imagine, for a moment, a circus. Imagine the whip-wielding lion-tamers, the lycra bound acrobats, and the grotesquely made-up clowns. Picture them all in a large field, alternately running and tripping between brightly striped tents. Add unpredictable weather. This is what the average English festival is like.

The costume adopted by those in attendance, therefore, must be fitting for such an event. In place of the lion-tamers are the trussed and corseted goths. Usually a group of girls with far too much flesh on show, desirable items of clothing including neon netting ra-ra skirts, ripped fishnet tights, impractically small pants, and some form of handwear. Whilst perfectly harmless, beware the crack of the whip: you may find yourself catching sight of far more than you want.

The acrobats walk a fine line. Too many colours and glow-wear run the risk of falling into the “nu-rave” net. Vision-inducing leggings are the mainstay of this group, best teamed with a slightly less luminescent baggy T-shirt and Ray-Bans. Even in the dark. Some sort of rope around the head finishes this outfit off. Shoelaces are preferable, but actual headscarves are acceptable if nothing else is available. Think zany. Cold? Wear socks tucked into your leggings in ballet pumps. Old? Moth-eaten charity shop cardigans fit surprisingly well into this category. Anything goes, just so long as it’s colourful, and you wear it with a certain amount of irony and pride.

Lastly, watch out for the clowns. They may look normal from far away, but up close their heavily layered make-up may shock and horrify. A thick, slightly off-skin tone foundation is added to lashings of mascara and bronzer. Kate Moss style shorts (high-waisted tight denim with artfully distressed hems) give a vintage look. Simple cotton vests in the muted shades of beige or cream are best, and have the added bonus of offsetting a (bottled) tan. Wellington boots should be worn, but only if they are in the authentic countryside hues of ‘Daddy-bought-me-a-pony’ green. Try Hunter.

In the midst of all this chaos, there are a few key pieces essential for maximum festival pleasure.

The over-the-shoulder bag is practical and versatile, and the smaller the better. For those with a penchant for the retro, this is probably the only arena where bum-bags are truly acceptable. Glued to your hips and with more pockets than you could shake a candy floss stick at, go for one in battered leather or with an eighties pattern.

Footwear, largely dictated by weather, can make or break your experience. Pack flip-flops, which are light and take up little room, for good weather. Pack boots, of any description, for not so good weather. Wellies are of course superior in this field, but those leather boots will serve the purpose too. Once the mud-bath begins, it is strongly advisable to just stay in your boots. Trust me, you won’t want to put them back on once you get them off.

Socks, closely linked with footwear, should not be underestimated. The longer the better, so that they can be used as both a style-statement and as leg-warmers.

Finally, layers. Take how many days long the festival is, and multiply it by four. That is how many tops you need. Pack anything thin, interesting and soft on the skin. Tube-tops, vests, t-shirts, leotards, unitards, long-sleeved tops, crop-tops, shirts, cardigans and jumpers: pack them all. Layering is the secret to an ever-evolving and versatile look throughout the festival. It is also the secret to keeping warm when British weather kicks in, or when night-time falls.

The great thing about festivals is that, although there will be people trying to emulate one look or another, there is also a complete and utter lack of judgement of whatever you do end up wearing. So run wild, and most of all, enjoy the spectacle.

“It is perverse,” Trussell began in his opening speech, and although this was a little harsh on the production, the sometimes forced exaggeration of the cast belittled what was a well-written history.

Entertaining exchanges showed the over-acting often characteristic of period dramas, and the bold, temperamental Henry VIII (played by Damien Matthews) was lost amongst a lack of subtlety and delicacy which is appropriate to such an episode in history.

The shining light in all of this was David Leonard. A former pantomime actor, his dry wit and timing added lightness to the otherwise saturated part of Sir Thomas More, lifting the script from obscurity to clarity, and engaging with the audience simultaneously.

It was impossible not to be dragged into the plot as he spun Robert Bolt’s original script, superbly written in places, around his fellow actors, who were but flies in Sir Thomas’s finely woven web of dialogue.

The other notable feature was Nigel Hook’s cleverly designed set, an imposing scaffolding of metal which served to remind the audience that the side of Sir Thomas’s life we were seeing here was the private side, not the public. From his family life at home to his hidden conversations with the wheedling Spanish; from underground conspiracies against him to his final moments in prison, this play was an enjoyably accessible, if at times predictable, window in the life of one of history’s most elusive figures.

*Names have been changed to protect identities

As the abortion debate hits the headlines, Venetia Rainey talks to students on both sides to try to understand the issues behind perhaps the most sensitive of taboos

“It is the most difficult decision I have ever had to make, and probably will ever have to make,” Claire*, a softly spoken 2nd year humanities student, explains to me. “To choose a particular path in life, and reject another path, a path that involves a potential living person, a path that would change you so utterly forever; that’s a really hard thing to face at our age. At any age, for that matter.”

One in three women will choose to have an abortion at some point during their lives, making Claire just one of the hundreds of thousands of women who yearly decide to terminate an unwanted or unexpected pregnancy. Yet for many the subject remains taboo, clouded and distorted by misconceptions and highly emotive images of aborted foetuses. Most people avoid discussion of the topic, either for fear of offending people, or out of a lack of real understanding of the matters at hand.

Recently, however, the debate has been brought firmly to the fore of attention when the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Act was recently re-opened to further amendments. Amongst other suggestions concerning embryos and IVF, various MPs submitted several proposals to cut the time limit in which abortions can occur from 24 weeks to 12, 16, 20 or 22 weeks. Appropriately, MPs were given a free vote (according to their conscience rather than a party line) on the matter.

Conservative MP Nadine Dorries, is one of the louder voices in the pro-amendments group. Her evocative retellings of her experience as a nurse holding the result of what she terms a ‘botched abortion’ have convinced many of her argument, which largely rests upon the premise that she believes, “a baby has rights. Those rights kick in if that baby were born and it would have a chance of life, and if it feels pain as part of the abortion.” For many, this was the crux: could a foetus, currently legal to be aborted at latest at a gestation of 23 weeks, otherwise live if allowed to be born?

Conservative MP Edward Leigh fanned the flames of the controversy when he said “in modern Britain the most dangerous place to be is in your mother’s womb. It should be a place of sanctity… 98% of abortions are social… It is a bleak picture of modern Britain… I believe we should give that silent child a voice.”

“It really bothers me,” Claire sighs when I ask her what she thinks of the then undecided debate. “You know, all these old conservative men. What would they do if their teenage daughter became pregnant by accident, that’s what I’d like to know.”

Perhaps the most noticeable thing about the political debate was the absence of any real consideration for the people who feel the effects of such laws most keenly: the women who, for one reason or another, end up choosing to have an abortion. The words of the campaigners busy speaking on behalf of the voiceless unborn children drowned out those who should surely have been given centre stage.

Marie Stopes International, one of Britain’s leading private reproductive health agencies commented that not only was late abortion incredibly rare, accounting for just under 2% of all abortions conducted in 2006, but also that “the foetus has become the centre of the debate, to the detriment of women.” They emphasized that no over-arching judgement could possibly be made. One partaker in the research, aged 21, who had chosen to have an abortion at a gestation of 20 weeks, said: “People have a lot of different circumstances… until you are put in the situation yourself you can’t really judge, you can’t say what’s right or wrong until you’re there.”

Claire agrees whole-heartedly with this. “It is so much easier than you would think to end up having a second, or even third, trimester abortion. My periods have always been fairly sporadic, so when I didn’t have one for two months, I wasn’t that worried. I did a pregnancy test, because I was seeing someone at the time, but it came out negative. I even went to the doctor a few weeks later when it still hadn’t come, but the pregnancy test I did there came out negative as well. She told me that all sorts of things like stress can delay your period, and that I shouldn’t worry, because that would postpone it further, so I tried not to think about it.”

She pauses, biting her nails. “It was only when my breasts started to feel really tender and heavy, and I threw up one morning that I really suspected anything. I burst into tears in front of the health centre nurse when she told me. I’ve never felt so lost and alone in my life. When I eventually rang up Marie Stopes to arrange an abortion, I was told that they judged how pregnant you were by when your last period was. I was already 12 weeks by that time, which meant that I had to have a surgical abortion instead of the less invasive medical option.”

Her story is by no means uncommon. MSI quotes irregular periods, changes in domestic or relationship circumstances, and delays in the various stages of referral involved in the NHS route as the principal reasons for why women present themselves for late abortion.
“I was incredibly lucky,” Claire tells me. “My mum supported me one hundred percent, and paid for me to get it done privately at a Marie Stopes clinic in central London, which took a matter of days. I’ve heard horrible stories about how long it can take to get the two signatures you need for an abortion on the NHS, and the waiting time to get the appointment itself. I would have gone out of my mind if I had had to wait weeks to get seen.”

Anne-Marie Canning, the current YUSU president, is a staunch supporter of the union’s controversial Right to Choose Fund, which provides financial aid to University of York students or students’ partners who find themselves pregnant. The fund covers both abortion costs (done privately) and the various costs involved with having a child, from pre-natal care to babysitting. She told me a similar story: “A student had approached the clinic on campus and they had been quite slow in dealing with the case. She came to us and we were able to facilitate [her abortion] as soon as she wanted it; [the fund] is very quick and efficient, and really helps students to access abortions when they need them rather than leaving it later and later and later. They go to Marie Stopes in Leeds and we offer to go with them… I think it’s really important that we offer that support as well. Getting the two doctors to sign off and things like that can be a really difficult experience for students.”

The recent protests in London

Students are clearly one of the most vulnerable groups in society when it comes to an issue like abortion. Financially unstable, without permanent residence, often in full time studies and still learning how to live without parents, the average student would be poorly equipped to bring a child into the world. For those like Claire who make the decision to terminate their pregnancy, the claustrophobic world of campus can feel like a particularly hostile and judgmental environment. “I didn’t know who to tell, to be honest,” said Claire, looking into the distance. “Everyone, all my best friends, everyone I would normally go to for help… I felt were completely and utterly removed from my situation. Just days before I had been moaning off-handedly about crap… now I felt like I was the only one in the whole world, or at least my whole world, who understood my situation. I felt like any reaction my friends could possibly give would be ridiculously insufficient… In the end, when I told some of them, they were amazing, and the more people I told, the less of a big deal it felt.”

The first step for most will be the University Health Centre. Usually, only if two doctors agree that an abortion is necessary can the termination go ahead. This process of referral only applies to the NHS route (which accounted for 87% of abortions carried out in England and Wales in 2006), as patients are able to self-refer if they can afford to take the private route. The result is that for the majority of women who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy, their mental and physical fate rests in the hands of two GPs, each of whom will have their own personal opinions on the issue of abortion.

A Marie Stopes investigation into the attitudes of General Practioners to abortion revealed that just under a fifth of randomly surveyed GPs described themselves as anti-abortion. Women seeking abortions therefore may well be being discouraged or delayed by the first person they will properly turn to for help, their GP. One doctor said they felt that: “GPs have to lie and say it is detrimental to mothers’ health. when actually it is a social abortion.” 97% of all abortions in England and Wales in 2006 were performed on ground C, that “the continuance of the pregnancy would involve risk, greater than if the pregnancy were terminated, of injury to the physical or mental health of the pregnant woman.

For many, the obvious conclusion is to scrap the need for doctors to give their approval to women seeking abortion. It can be, in cases where the process is hindered by obstructive practitioners, extremely dangerous and distressing for those involved. One 24 year-old woman speaking to Marie Stopes said, “[the doctor] wasn’t very nice at all… she said to me, ‘What about adoption?’ and I said I really couldn’t, and she just said that there were so many women that wanted kids and I was being selfish.” Scrapping the referral system remains a highly controversial issue, one which is seen by the pro-life lobby as a descent of society into a state where people can are free to pick and choose their own morality.

Fighting this descent, as vocally as possible, are the Christians. Not every Christian is anti-abortion, and not every anti-abortionist is Christian, but there is definitely a very strong correlation. For them, the argument is not about the pregnant woman, but about the foetus, and its rights as one of God’s living creatures.

Joseph, a Christian 3rd year at the University of York, is one of the thousands of people who is completely against abortion for such reasons. “It stems from being a Christian and valuing human life. The Bible says that God knew us before we were even knitted in our mother’s wombs, which means that a foetus is a person, so it’s a life and therefore if you kill it, it’s murder. Women get very up-in-arms about their right to choose, but I think ultimately the child’s [right to] life is more significant than her right to choose.”

I ask him whether he thinks there are ever exceptions to this rule, for example, if a woman conceives after she is raped. “The abortion is still wrong because its still a child, whether she chose to conceive it or not. The child still has a right to live. Yeah, the woman has a right to choose but that right was taken away by the man, so now the child has rights as well as the woman. Choosing one person’s rights over another is a bit dodgy in my mind… We have this thing where we allow one person’s right to choose to override somebody’s right to live; we have no death penalty or euthanasia and yet we are allowed to kill people before they have even breathed their first breath.”

“So many abortions nowadays are social and economic abortions, as opposed to medical abortions… If you had sex and you got pregnant… then you should deal with the consequences. Like if you choose to do archery, you accept the consequences if accidents happen; if you play the game then you take the risks and you accept the consequences.”

I ask him to qualify what he means by ‘social abortions’, a term bandied about a lot by people debating abortion. “Its choosing not to have a child because you weren’t ready yet, you didn’t plan it; your parents might find out and then they’ll know you’re having sex; people getting pregnant before they are legal and not wanting to get into trouble…” He tails off, before finally adding, “We need to put more effort into letting people know the responsibility they have when they do have sex.”

Claire finds the opinions of the pro-life lobby particularly hard to deal with. “It seems to me that the main point of the pro-life argument is that, according to Jesus, the moment an egg is fertilized, however it happens, whether it’s carelessness, a broken condom, or even rape – its life is instantly of greater value than that of the mother’s.”

For Joseph, it’s a matter of putting the foetus’ right to live over the woman’s right to choose. “I would always choose life over choice,” he says.

It is at this point that the debate comes back round to the question of whether a foetus, or even an embryo, should be given the full rights of a human being. The basic definition of alive in biological terms is an organism that can move, respire, be sensitive to stimuli, grow, reproduce, excrete, and feed. But this is not necessarily helpful in determining at what point the embryo/foetus can be deemed humanly alive, and ultimately the debate becomes one of personal beliefs and morals, with meaningless bits of science drawn in from all sides. Most pro-life groups use, as evidence for their case, emotive ultrasound images of fully-formed foetuses apparently smiling, or facts about how much they can feel in the womb from a very young gestation, pointing especially to the stress response exhibited when invasive procedures occur to the womb.

Michael Appleton, a University of York 2nd year and chair of the York Labour Movement, was educated at a Catholic school, and recalls similar messages being pressed upon him. “During the GCSE period we were introduced, supposedly impartially, to the issue of abortion… one moment sticks in my head when we watched a video called ‘The Truth About Abortion’… they took an abortion of about 22 weeks which is very late and showed bits of babies in tubes. It was very, very harrowing. Our parents had to sign a consent form to let us watch it… There was another video called ‘The Silent Scream’… those videos were so horrifying that I don’t think there was anyone who could actually defend the practice of abortion in the face of such horrifying images… there were montages of babies heads in medical containers. It was nauseating, and it really quite upset me.” So did he feel that, because of this education, he was now anti-abortion? “I took the line that I was going to keep my eyes open about it… It was just a constant bombardment of ‘you can talk about abortion, and we will have the discussion, but at the end of the day, we’re right. It is completely abhorrent.’”

“I don’t think, however,” he continues, “that [religious arguments] are very helpful to the abortion debate. I think we should take it away from the so-called moralistic argument. We can’t have a national system of morals in this country because everyone has different morals.”
The poignancy of such images, however, is often hard to ignore. “When I went to [get the abortion]… they do an ultrasound scan, to check how far along you are,” Claire explains to me. “I didn’t want to look, because the idea of seeing it made me feel a bit sick. I knew I was making the best choice for me at the time. I didn’t want to be swayed by the image of something which I knew wasn’t properly alive yet… the scans just have so many connotations, through films and stuff, that I didn’t want to confuse myself. I did look though. I wanted to make sure that I was directly facing up to my decision.”

The House of Commons Science and Technology Committee addressed the issue of foetal feeling, concluding that, “while the evidence suggests that foetuses have physiological reactions to noxious stimuli, it does not indicate that pain is consciously felt, especially not below the current upper gestational limit of abortion.” Further, they also commented that there was a need to distinguish “between conscious pain (which is perception of pain with an emotional response) and subconscious pain (which is a physiological stress response to a stimulus).”

The darkest part of the whole issue is the part kept behind closed doors. “The actual process?” Claire hesitates, before inhaling deeply. “Well like I said, I had to have a surgical abortion. I was really distraught at first… ideas of invasive processes and stuff running through my mind. But then I heard from someone who had had an abortion a few months before that the medical abortion is really painful and lasts for days, and my mum said this way it would be over quicker. I felt better hearing that. The people at the clinic were really nice, even if the place itself was really sanitary. I had to go into a separate room from my mum, where only the patients were allowed to sit… it was all blue reclining chairs and soft music… then I had to put this hospital gown on and go into the procedure room. I don’t remember much from the actual process. I was drugged up on a local anaesthetic, so everything is really hazy.” She stops again to look out of the window momentarily.

“It hurt. That’s all I remember. I think I screamed out. I think I was told to relax. All I could think afterwards was whether they had got it all out. I was drowsy for the next few hours, and nearly fainted on the way out of the clinic. I just wanted to be with my mum at home. I would never have been able to do it here at university… I just wanted it to be separate from everything else in my life. I think it worked out for the best actually, now when I look back I don’t associate it with anything here in York. It’s just a detached, awful memory… it doesn’t define me, and I don’t feel the need to talk about it. It’s just there, a choice I made in my life due to a set of circumstances. That’s it.”

At this point, the debate can go no further. For some, there will never be any question of the existence or value of the life of the embryo or foetus. For others, such a persuasion will be unintelligible when put against the multiplicity of reasons why women, in the best interest of not only themselves, but also their unborn child, choose to seek an abortion, at whatever gestation. 87,674 18-25 year-olds in England and Wales had an abortion in 2006. Who in society has the right to tell someone what to do with their body, how to perceive a bundle of cells, or how the rest of their life should be lived? “The point is,” says Claire, “that in modern society, every individual has a right to make their own choices, rather than have someone else’s choices impressed upon them. No one makes the decision to have an abortion lightly. They just make the choice which, at the time, they think is best for them.”

“It’s essentially an issue of morality,” she concludes quietly. “and I don’t think anyone should have the right to choose my morality. That’s my right. After all, I’m the one who has to live with my choice, no-one else.”

As Toby Maguire surmised in 2002, ‘with great power comes great responsibility’. And so it follows that we must inform our loyal fashionista the following: ‘With the arrival of the British sun comes the infinite responsibility to locate the perfect summer frock.’ Don’t get your frilly knickers in a twist, however, as the all-seeing eyes of Miss V and Miss C have noted an allotment-influenced propensity towards favouring floral prints this summer.

From the gourmet delicacies of Balenciaga, Etro and Dries Van Noten, to the rather more crude offerings of New Look and Primark – floramania has taken over. Delicate tea roses, childlike daisies, full figured peonies, and ornate orchids are currently splattered across garments as though flowers were going out of fashion. These days it is apparently easier to dress as the living embodiment of a greenhouse than as a human being.

Sugary shades of purple, sunset tinged feminine pink hues and frills and trills sicken the senses. Thank god the boys have more sense than we do, as the lengthening daylight hours kick our girlie instinct into full flow.

However, cynical in nature as we are, we do not denounce this floral phenomenon. Like other gullible fashion wannabes, we will follow this trend to the death. Yet little ones, we do offer the following modest but professional advice – choose with care. The line between floral sex kitten and frumpy, but sexually active grandma is a fine one. One minute you’re Mischa Burton in cute rose patterned baby-doll dress, the next you may be Pat Butcher on a bad day, suffering from a severe bout of colour-blindness.

Beware, dear reader…

My mother is the absolute worst for planning out every second of her holiday; from sights to see to places to eat, very little is left to chance. I blame guidebooks for a large part of this irritating tendency. With so many to choose from, and with all providing seemingly exhaustive lists of everything that every destination in the world has to offer, it is hard to resist the temptation to read ahead and form day by day plans in your head. The result is hundreds of blinkered, backpack-toting, camera-clutching figures gliding through streets, noses buried in books, furiously muttering under their breath about grid-references and page numbers.

Don’t get me wrong, guidebooks definitely have their use. For practical information on even the most obscure places and often life-saving maps, a guide is exactly what you need when stuck somewhere wondering when that bus is next going to come, and whether you can even afford it. Just try not to forget the liberating power of exploration. Try that slightly grubby looking restaurant that isn’t given a mention; making your own discoveries is what travel is all about. Plus, any listings or entries are mostly only representative of a single person’s opinion; a deeply boring museum for one person can be the starting point of a passion for another.

This supplement is an attempt to inspire rather than instruct. From the features to the guide, hopefully you can find something within these pages to fill those long summer weeks. We have also chosen to do an exclusively European travel supplement (rather than one on the world) to encourage people to open their eyes to what is right on their doorstep.

Europe is a vast continent; geographically, socially and politically diverse beyond belief. From the icy lakes of Scandinavia to the classical gourmet of the Mediterranean; from the wholesome Bavarian heartiness of the Germanic world to the giddy political landscape of the Balkans, Europe still possesses the power to surprise and entertain. Just because it’s close doesn’t mean it should be written off, and just because you think you know what to expect, doesn’t mean you’re right.
It is also ridiculously cheap to get to, and even cheaper to enjoy once there, if you know where to go. All of which make for the perfect student traveling ground. Accordingly, every entry in the guide attempts to point the reader in the direction of destinations you might not normally consider, or even have heard of, and all on a student budget.

So go explore, and remember the immortal words of Saint Augustine, “The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.

Alas, Mr. Pugh was entangled in yards of black wool and barbed wire, busy submersing himself in a particular gothic sub-genre for his next show, and therefore could not be contacted. So Miss C and Miss V found themselves once again on Shoppingate in York, conducting a search for the impossible.

The results were of notable interest. Transparency was a marked theme. Taking inspiration from the famed tale of the Emperor’s clothes, the idea seemed to be that by putting on a see-through tainted pink mackintosh, you would feel as if you were wearing something water-resistant, and that this would have the same effect as if you actually were. Strangely, this proved to be correct, although clothes that are real, tangible, and perhaps even opaque, are strongly advised to be worn underneath.

The rubbery material that such items are made of, however, led to an awkward and rather grating squeaking sound being produced upon movement, and it is for this reason, unless you enjoy being proclaimed a walking condom by all and sundry, that Miss C and Miss V would advise the postponement of such a purchase indefinitely.

We bring to your attention the arrival of a new phenomenon – circus/1980’s revival chic. No longer confined to the frustratingly unobtainable world of dance videos and i-D fashion pages, we entreat you to embrace the American Apparel–esque unitard of 2008. The time has come to proudly walk across campus wearing no less, and probably not much more, than an all-in-one. No fuss, no buttons, maximum versatility. That is, of course, so long as you have the body of an Eastern European model, and are unaware that we live in a city frightened of the sun, less than sympathetic to the limited warming effects of spandex. Or perchance, you have alarming amounts of confidence in your bottom, an unreasonble attachment to the 80’s, or a desire to extend toilet visits to an unforeseen length.

The way to wear these gems in our hostile environment is evidentally wrapped up in the age old art of layering. And this gets a whole lot more fun with all-in-ones. Think a purple cocoon of stretchy cotton joy caressing every inch of your body, from your ankles to your wrists and everything in between, with a turquoise strapless swimsuit-imitation affair over the top, and some pink leg warmers over your ballet pumps for good effect.

The choice is yours folks. Non-judgemental in nature we shall merely continue to observe; whilst quietly downing our non fat, non foam, organic, made-with-the-milk-of-a-Guatemalan-goat lattes. But don’t be surprised if people demand that you sing Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s ‘Relax’, or you feel sudden overwhelming urges to perform amazing feats of aerobics involving cannons and/or the splits. And just pray that you bought the version with those popper thingys down below…

Despite heavy criticism, Fusion remains the most successful charity event on campus. Venetia Rainey finds out where it all began.

“It’s just a bit pretentious isn’t it? Mind you I wouldn’t mind being in it next year, it does look like quite a lot of fun…” This is largely the attitude that greets me when I ask someone what they think about Fusion. A bit ridiculous, probably with its fair share of arrogant and vain idiots, but still something that, if they were honest, they would quite enjoy being in. The other reaction I seem to get is a superior smirk followed by a judgmental raising of the eyebrow, “Fusion? Oh I see, I didn’t realise you were that kind of person…”

But what is “that” kind of person? Why does Fusion seem to have such a stigma attached to it, and how much truth actually lies behind it? Some will have read the muck raked about by “York’s Most Hated Man”, Adam Thorne, calling Fusion “a group of snotty spoilt brats…power crazed little tykes”. He went on to inaccurately call it a “modeling [sic.] show” and “a return to the laws of the playground. [Where] the beautiful people are king. They run the show, get to have all the fun and take the piss out of those who aren’t included.” Ouch.

Bitterness aside, Thorne’s comments would have you believe that his is the widely accepted opinion. However lets put a few things straight first. Fusion is an annual fashion and dance show, aimed at raising money for charity through socials and the main event. Created four years ago by Mariam Ahmed, then a 3rd year studying Linguistics at the York, it was supposed to be an urban event, set up to fill a niche in a time when Toffs didn’t run R’n’B nights and hip-hop culture was unheard of in York. In much the same way that groups such as Herbal Mafia and Idioteque do now, it was an attempt to provide something different for students in York to get involved with and enjoy.

Today we take for granted York’s range of societies and the fact that there is something catering for most interests, but years ago York was a very different place. “I found York University extremely cliquey when I arrived as an undergraduate in 2003.” recalls Mariam, “Regarding societies it seemed that you could only be a part of their main events if you knew people on the committees and I wanted to change that. I wanted to create a society that held the largest and most anticipated event of the year by involving a variety of student and local talent.” Fusion retains this ethos in 2008. With Pole Soc, Japanese Soc, Juggle Soc and Afro-Caribbean Soc (amongst others) performing in the upcoming show, and 8 student designers’ clothes and accessories being modelled, Amy Browne, President of Fusion, is keen to stress that, “it’s so inclusive actually. There’s not a type of Fusion person, if you look at the cast everyone looks completely different, and there are so many different races and cultures involved.”

Perhaps it’s the auditions that people object to, all those ‘jumped up little prats’ deciding who can be involved and who can’t. Sadly, it’s a fact of life that competition exists, and as Fusion ultimately aims to put on a performance for which people are charged to see, it seems unfair to suggest that they shouldn’t hold auditions in the same way that Drama Soc or the musicals do. Of course there is a slight difference in that there is no obvious talent involved in modelling, but the committee are insistent that at no point were people being judged on their looks. Rennie Hoare, who sat in on all the auditions, commented that, “the most important thing was confidence and whether people could walk properly in front of us. If they didn’t have that in front of nine people, how could that be scaled up and done in front of thousands? The criteria we were doing it on was: ‘Can they perform in front of us?’” This is especially true when you take into account that all the modelling scenes are heavily choreographed. Speaking to girls in the rehearsals, they tell me that the routines require them to pay close attention to the music, using counts of eight as their cues for often quite complicated, dance-based moves. There is a lot more to take into account than a simple walk down a catwalk. Any suggestions about a bias towards a certain body size in the models were firmly refuted by several member of the committee, with Browne adding that, “there were a couple of people who we didn’t want to let in because they looked like they were anorexic… we don’t want to be associated with anything like that.”

So why does Fusion seem to attract so much judgement and scepticism? Most of the people in Fusion are just looking to meet new people, get involved with something a bit different, and have a good time, whether dancing, modelling, getting clothes or helping out on the night. If you can’t do that at university, then where can you? Hannah Martin, last year’s Fusion president, added, “I think the people in Fusion are the type of people who want to get the most out of university. I don’t think people should take it quite as seriously as they do sometimes… It’s just a group of students getting together and having a laugh at the end of the day.”

The thing that gives weight to all of this is the fact that Fusion is primarily a charity event. The driving force behind all that fashion, music, dancing and socialising is the goal to raise a whopping £10,000 for its chosen two charities, Snappy, a local charity that runs a range of activities for special needs children in the York area, and Cancer Research UK. “I don’t know why the charity aspect doesn’t get emphasised more,” Browne ponders. “It is first and foremost the biggest charity event on campus. There is so much work that goes into it and I don’t think people realise that either.”

Fusion is taking place in Central Hall February 29 and March 1. Tickets are on sale in www.yusu.org/tickets and in Your:shop.

Buying a car doesn’t have to be expensive or even much hard work. Venetia Rainey and Nicky Woolf drive you down the road of chassis numbers, engines and MOTs.

Cars are useful things. They get you places fast and give you the power of flexibility. Of course the slight glitch in all of this is that you need a driving licence, but that aside, having a car can be a real advantage. The obstacle for most is price, but with this guide, you should be able to get a car for anything from £1000 upwards (insurance included), depending on how picky you’re feeling…

Step 1 – Which car?

This is a very personal decision. First think about what you’re going to use the car for. If you’re going to be ferrying friends around, you probably want something small with five doors (one of which is the boot), like a hatchback, and something with an economic engine, like a diesel. Or something more flash, like a saloon. Do you want air conditioning? Electric windows? Rather than bury yourself in a million choices, rule out the things you don’t need before you start.

The best way to do this is to write out all the things you definitely want in a car. Forget about the engine for now, but think about the number of doors, the number of seats, the colour, the style, the boot size, even the stereo. When you have all this organised in your head, you can start thinking about stage two; the engine. First choice to make is petrol or diesel. Petrol is faster, much nicer to drive and sounds a lot better. Diesel, however, is much, much easier on the wallet. Next, decide how fast you want it to go; a 1.1 litre engine will struggle on hills, and a 2.0 will be much faster but you’ll pay through the nose for insurance. Go to an insurance broker like www.directline.com where you can get a free quote, and check how much you’ll be paying for the larger engines. It’ll make you think. Finally choose whether you want an automatic or a manual.

Step 2 – Where to look

There are several places to look for used car listings. Often local newspapers will have a page with advertisements on them, so these are worth looking out for. The internet, however, is easily the best forum for such a search:
- www.yorkpress.co.uk/cars
- york.gumtree.com
- www.ebay.co.uk
- www.autotrader.co.uk

All of these sites provide an easy to use search engine where you can type in exactly what you want in terms of car, budget and vendor location. Ignore any results without a picture, and check the accompanying blurb for mention of scratches, dents, engine problems, etc. A contact number should be provided, and when you find a few that tickle your fancy, the best thing to do is to give them a call. Ask any questions that may not already have been answered on their listing (for example, airbags, engine size and anything else you consider important) and trust your instinct about what they sound like. You want to deal with someone friendly, open and genuine, not pushy, dodgy and untrustworthy. If you’re happy with what you hear, then you can arrange a viewing and a test drive.

Step 3 – The test drive

Remember that if you don’t have specific other-cars insurance, you can’t drive it yourself, in which case bring a friend who can, or else ask the seller to drive you. Try to take in some motorway and some smaller, bumpier roads. Press every button and test every gadget. Make sure the steering wheel feels firm and doesn’t wobble or shake, as this can mean expensive suspension or steering rack problems. Make sure all the gears work smoothly, including reverse. Listen out for unusual noises or rattles, and sniff; the smell of a smoker is difficult to get rid of. If the car is still OK, then you’re ready to seal the deal.

Step 4 – Official stuff

There are three main things you will have to deal with when buying a used car: MOT, V5 and insurance.

The legally compulsory MOT form proves that the car is roadworthy, and should have raised lettering where it has been stamped by the servicer. Check that the written total mileage tallies with that on the dashboard of the car, and that everything else looks in order. MOT’s last a year and cost quite a bit, so any extra MOT months on the car are a massive bonus.

The V5 form confirms ownership, and the details should be identical to those of the current owner’s and the car in question. Use their driving licence to check personal information, and check for matching chassis and engine number (ask the owner to show you where this is, it should be under the bonnet). If anything looks at all suspicious, walk away. If they don’t own the car, they can’t sell it to you. When you are satisfied, ownership can be officially transferred by filling out the relevant section of the form. The seller will have to post their part off to the DVLA, and within weeks you should receive your own V5 form confirming ownership.

Insurance is another headache, so research deals before you go to look at a car. Everyone will have different advice for this; Tesco is apparently very good, as is Direct Line. Quotes will vary depending on how long you have had your licence, no claims bonuses, and living area. Search engines like confused.com can also be useful. If you choose to buy the car, you will have to ring up there and then to arrange insurance, so its helpful to have a quote set up beforehand which you can then simply activate over the phone.

Finally the payment. Cash is usually preferred, but offers little insurance if something goes wrong. Cheques have to be backed up by a cheque guarantee card, and some sellers may be hestitant about accepting them. The best method is a mixture of cash and cheque. Whichever method you choose, take their address and contact details, and get them to sign a statement laying out the agreed sale price and car details. Try to negotiate the final price, and don’t feel scared to ask for some time to think about it rather than buying that day, although do be aware that good deals get snapped up very quickly.

Enough of all this confusion and stress. Antonia Shaw and Venetia Rainey are here to guide you through the chaotic process of finding a house in just four easy steps

The housing headache has well and truly begun. Friends must be vetted, property details sifted, and houses inspected. First-years will be starting to grasp the size of the task ahead of them, forging alliances and breaking friendships as they tentatively suggest housing combinations in covert conversations behind closed doors. Older students will be weighing up the idea of having to re-enter the York property chaos against staying with people they can no longer stand. To make the next few months easier, Nouse have provided you with a step-by-step guide to the housing process. Good luck…

Step 1 – Choosing your housemates
This can be the hardest bit of the whole process. Before you even begin to search for the perfect student house, you must first find the perfect housemates. Living in shared accommodation takes tolerance and, unlike in halls, you can’t just walk down the corridor to get away from whoever is irritating you. Most houses do not come with cleaners (although some do), and attitudes towards tidiness and hygiene tend to be the biggest points of contention. Try to assess your friends objectively. Smell of smoke make you wretch? Check whether any of your new friends nurture secretive night-time habits. That disorganized girl who is sweet at the moment will be much less endearing when her late bill payments incur extra charges. If your day doesn’t really start until the afternoon and goes on well into the early hours of the morning, it is advisable to live with similarly nocturnal animals. Finally, avoid couples. Seriously. Whether getting on (sometimes too well) or breaking up, they spell stress and sleepless nights.

Step 2 – Letting agents and landlords
Now you know who you’ll be living with, you must decide whether to go through a private landlord or a letting agency. Renting with a private landlord avoids the intermediary of the letting agency and so cuts your costs. Most privately let properties charge cheaper rent as the proprietor won’t charge administration or referencing fees. They also are usually more flexible than letting agents and you may be able to negotiate concerns such as smoking, keeping pets and reduced summer rents. Even better, you are often allowed to paint your own rooms, a definite perk considering the drab interior of many student houses. This may all sound idyllic, but be warned, the rented accommodation industry is largely unregulated. As landlords are not compelled to belong to a professional body or trade association they have no reputation to uphold. This not only means that it is easier for them to swindle you, but also gives you very little to go on if anything problematic does happen. If you do choose to use this route make sure you know your rights (see box for useful websites).

Consequentially the oft-favoured option is to use a letting agent. This should ensure certain levels of service as letting agencies have a reputation to uphold, as well as a greater range of properties. Your pocket will have to pay for this privilege, however, and there can be a degree of inflexibility regarding house rules and regulations. You should also expect to put in a fair amount of legwork to find a property. Expect to leave details with several agencies, but don’t be surprised if you are not inundated with calls. If they have nothing suitable for you at the time, usually they simply won’t contact you, so make sure you keep in contact with them. According to the Accommodation Agencies Act of 1963, it is illegal for letting agencies to ask for payment for property viewings and details. If this does happen, walk swiftly away and call the local council. Agencies are often able to sneak in other additional charges, however, from referencing charges to fees for drawing up tenancy agreements.

Step 3 – The house
Whichever route you choose to go through, you will quickly be in a position to start looking at properties online. Think about local amenities, transport options – which almost always means buses – then distance from campus and town, general area safety, and, of course, rent.

Avoid living with couples. Seriously. Whether getting on (often too well) or breaking up, they spell sleepless nights.

Choosing a base rent price can be tricky to negotiate amongst friends, particularly if there is a massive disparity between housemates’ accommodation budgets. The average price of student accommodation in York is around £65 per week, but if you can stretch to £70 per week, you should be pretty cushy. At the moment prices are being raised across York, so keep that in mind. It is also worth remembering you could be asked for three month blocks of rent in advance and that you will be always be asked to pay a deposit, normally of around £250. Bills aren’t usually included in the rent – so leave money in your budget for that, roughly an extra £7 per week.

Once you have found a few properties that fit your criteria, organise viewings with the appropriate letting agent or landlord. If possible, all housemates should attend the first viewing as there is no guarantee of a second, and you don’t want people to be signing for a house they have never seen. For your own personal safety, never view a property on your own.

When looking round a house, you should take the following into consideration on top of the more obvious things like room size: Security, smoke detectors and fire alarms, proof of servicing of the gas and electricity, power sockets, furniture that stays with the house, storage space, signs of damp, mould or infestations, plumbing, cooking and washing facilities, communal space, parking (if applicable), and double glazing . That’s a lot to think about, and the more eyes the better. Remember, if using a private landlord be extra vigilant when viewing the property as they are less likely to stick to health and safety regulations.

Step 4 – What to expect next
So you’ve found your perfect house. Now get a move on and snap it up! You will have to sign a contract, and arrange a guarantor for your rent, normally a parent. Remember that a contract is a binding agreement, so any negotiations that you wish to make over rent, etc. must be done before you sign. Check for a clause that enables you to give leave notice during the contract, otherwise, if you have to change accommodation before the contract has terminated, you may still be liable to continue paying rent until your lease is finished. Take your contract along to the accommodation office who will check over it for you, and keep a hard copy of it. Don’t take this too lightly, as you will all be responsible for each other’s damages and debts. If you are with a letting agency you may have to give over post-dated cheques (cheques banked at pre-specified dates throughout the year), and don’t forget that most leases will be 12 months long and will start in early July. This effectively means you will have to pay for those few months over summer when no-one will be in your house. Irritating, but unavoidable.

Finally, remember to take pictures of every room in the house before you move in; those can be used as proof of carpet stains, etc. not caused by you, and will prevent problems getting back your deposit when you move out again. All that’s left is to pick rooms, and decide who gets stuck in the cupboard under the stairs…

The Official Line
As people are manically booking house viewings, the University is recommending that its students hold off, and take care before signing on the dotted line. Student Welfare Adviser, Mo Onyett warns that “people don’t leave it long enough before they start looking for houses in their first year. You don’t have enough time to know the people you’re moving in with.”

She advises students to wait at least until the University Code of Practice on Private Sector Accommodation is published on the Feburary 1. It comprises a list of private landlords and their properties that have been regulated by the university set guidelines. Onyett continues, “there is a plentiful supply of student accommodation in the York private sector and the properties that advertise first tend to be more expensive.” In fact, Onyett believes that a student can delay property-hunting to as far as the summer term and that “the latest you should have it sorted by is the beginning of June”.

Phillipa Clare, creator of the ‘Finding a House in York’ Facebook group, deems this information “really misleading”. She feels so strongly about this that she is refusing to add the information to her helpful house-hunting guide, despite being asked to do so by a University official. Clare believes that there is a “real difference between what the Uni is saying and what the landlords actually want”. She adds that she thinks “it is important to get it done sooner than later, but it’s a real catch-22 for first years”.

Onyett, however, stands strong. She firmly believes that “there is a lot of scaremongering, and there is really not any need to panic. Landlords and letting agents will sometimes put on the pressure… but there is no rush to finding a property”. She was taken aback when an unnamed letting agent littered Alcuin college with flyers in December, alarming the students to property shortages which quite simply didn’t exist.

The University does indeed have a valid point; there is an abundance of student property in York. However, the vast majority of students have begun to view houses. Whilst the University’s principles work in theory, they don’t take into account the fact that hordes of students will be searching for houses and are all fully aware that they are in direct competition with each other for the best houses. Inevitably, good houses go quickly. Clare laughed at the notion of waiting until summer term to start looking for a property “you’ll end up living in a shed!”

www.direct.gov.uk – follow the links to university and higher education and then click on student housing. Also contains advice on legal rights and contracts.

YUSU – Although there is nothing on their website at the moment, there is a housing fair in the pipeline for later this term. Students are also advised to pop into the YUSU building for advice and help.

‘Finding a house in York; information to make life easier’ Facebook group – Set up by Phillipa Clare, this group includes lists of letting agencies, and provides a forum for students to discuss areas and housing issues.

Worst Case Scenario
I was one of the unluckiest first years I know. My corridor, if not my whole block, was full of idiots. And not even the kind of idiots you can have a bit of fun with, idiots that I didn’t even want to waste energy trying to put up with. Maybe I’m a little intolerant, perhaps even a little strange. I certainly don’t get excited about getting dressed up in a ridiculous costume and plying myself with drink in order to enjoy a night.

Last spring I found myself in the awkward position of being greeted by hurried silences and forced greetings everytime I walked into my kitchen. I didn’t particularly care, I definitely wasn’t planning to share so much as a postcode with any of my blockmates come second year, but the tension in the air did mean that cooking lost much of its previous enjoyment for me.

To be fair, I didn’t hate them, they just weren’t my kind of people. They didn’t get me, my sense of humour, my idea of fun, or the way I dressed, and consequentially I had to face the prospect of finding some people who did, or else apply to live on campus again on the grounds of having no friends.

My next step was to attend a college social for students looking for housemates, and also, contrary to my pride, start asking if anyone knew of a house looking for a room filler. Alas, I missed the social, and out of laziness and an unwillingness to confront the idea of being homeless, I ignored the issue for the rest of that year. It was only over summer, after a particularly worried inquiry from my parents, that I realised I had to do something. A friend of mine (I did make some) put me in contact with a group of complete strangers who were rumoured to have a spare room in a large house in Osbaldwick. I called them, explained my situation, and agreed then and there to move in.

So far my year has been OK. It hasn’t been as much fun as I would have hoped, but my new housemates are bearable, if a little noisy. At least this way I have a roof over my head. So if you still don’t have a house for next year, don’t worry, it can’t get worse than this.

Unable to reach Machu Picchu by the conventional route, Venetia Rainey explores the former Inca capital of Cusco, where history fuses with South American vibrancy

One of the world’s most spectacular treks is the Peru’s Capaq Nan trail, otherwise known as the Inca trail. The classic route covers 70km and reaches heights of over 4,200m above sea. It takes about four days to reach the legendary lost Inca city of Machu Picchu, officially named one of the Seven Wonders of the World last year. The sense of victory after such a hike makes for a once in a lifetime (and fairly costly) experience. At least, so I have been told.

I had the misfortune of suffering what all travellers must endure at one point or another: food poisoning. After drinking impure water whilst staying on an island in Lake Titicaca, I was crippled by the illness and utterly unable to keep food or water down. On the third day, I found myself being roughly pulled out of bed, and my pyjamas swapped for hiking boots, shorts and a t-shirt. Three hours from the starting point of the trail, I had to admit defeat. My family went on without me, and a rather put-out porter travelled back the five hour journey with me to the nearest town, Cusco.

Thankfully I was in one of the best possible places to amble around for a couple of days and wallow in self-pity. Cusco was once the capital of the whole of the Inca empire (its name comes from the Quechua “Q’osqo” which means “navel of the world”), and it was only centuries later when the Spanish conquest arrived in South America that the capital was moved, eventually to its current location of Lima. With a population of only around 300,000, it is positively rural in comparison to Lima’s 9.2 million strong demographic. This is evident in the safe and relaxed atmosphere of the city, relatively sheltered from the crimes that seem to pervade so many other South American cities. Tourists are rife, but easily avoided when you step away from the main attractions, which are hardly worth the money in the first place. Most will visit the Coricancha, the architectural ruins of the Temple of Sun where mummies were supposedly kept by night and taken into the sun by day. Its former resplendence was based on the sheets of gold which once coated most walls, but the Spanish plundering of the region left nothing of any worth, and now the site is fairly uninspiring. The cathedral that sits imposingly in the main square of Plaza del Armas is another main tourist attraction. Whilst fairly impressive, it is also very typical of its type. The attitude to church interiors in South America is on an entirely different level from anything the average European Christian will have experienced, and even to my Catholic eyes, used to lavish embellishments, the effect took some getting used to. Garish dolls representing the Virgin Mary perch on every stand, and glass boxes provide voyeuristic coffins for wax models of Jesus, complete with crown of thorns and bleeding limbs. The area around the altar is so overwhelmingly richly adorned with colour and gold (often fake) that one begins to wonder at the concentration of any praying church-attendee.

Cusco is a city to be explored on foot, and discoveries made on your own will be infinitely more rewarding. One of the most beautiful, and quietest, churches I came across in my days of recovery was La Merced, unlisted in my guide book. I meandered my way through small burrow-like sets of rooms carved out of stone with religious murals depicting hell splashed across the walls, apparently used as inspiration for the religious poet that used to live there. In one of the rooms was a holy bread receptacle adorned with the world’s second largest mother of pearl, presented to me as just another standard relic exhibited alongside the religious plastic effigies.
In terms of less cultural entertainment, one of the quaintest things about Cusco is the cinema. Forget any ideas you have about giant multiplexes with huge screens and overpriced popcorn, and instead imagine having the upstairs room in a café to yourself. You choose your own film from a wide selection of DVDs in a variety of languages, bring in your own food and drink, and make yourself comfortable in front of a wide-screen television on a few battered sofas. The perfect way to pass an afternoon; cheap, relaxing, and with the added benefit of meeting people (so long as you can agree on a film). At night these cafes become nightclubs, where foreigners and locals alike meet up to dance and drink. Whilst the older generations sit by the windows, cooling themselves in the night breeze, the younger ones either linger in the dark corners or gyrate on the bar, an apparently far less frivolous activity in Cusco than in York. Nightlife here is by no means exclusively for the pretty young things, which makes for a much more relaxed atmosphere. With a few Pisco Sours (a mouth-puckeringly strong regional brandy served straight up with lime and egg whites) in the stomach, I felt ready to join my new local friends…

Breakfast came in the form of yuca, a fried plant root native to Peru and very popular due to its high carbohydrate content. They are chewy, and taste of very little, but become better when dipped in guacamole, a dip served out to most obviously non-Peruvian diners at all hours of the day. Bored of museums, I decide to chance the local artisan market, where Inca Kola t-shirts are shamelessly flogged beside dishevelled piles of alpaca wool jumpers. Their sales techniques are aggressive, but by no means the worst I have come across, and a firm, “No, I’m not interested” soon forces their pinching hands to retract from my arm.

Horse riding is one of the best ways to view the countryside and the various Inca ruins splattered across the surrounding hills. Sprawling cracks in the rocky landscape act as a reminder of the earthquakes that yearly raze Peru’s cities. Last year an earthquake of magnitude 8 killed over 500 people and destroyed over 20,000 buildings. The earthquake was felt as far away as Bolivia and Ecuador. As a result, Peru is in a state of constant recovery, as stability is constantly undermined by natural disasters.
When the day finally came for me to rejoin my family at the heights of Machu Picchu, I felt none of the satisfaction gained from physical endeavour and achievement. It was a misty morning, and the area was hidden in swirling shrouds of impenetrable white cloud. As the ground began to heat up, however, the ruins slowly began to appear, tentatively, as if unsure of whether we were deserving or not.

High up on a mountain covered in thick tropical vegetation, a day’s walking distance from any signs of previous civilisation, I finally began to understand the power and beauty of Peru’s history.

This week has not been a good week. Between trying to have a social life, getting my next essay done, working on Nouse and writing this article, I think I could fairly say that right now I am feeling a little stressed. The irony, as I’m sure you will have spotted, is that this article is, in fact, about stress; that little word that covers all manner of causes and effects, and can reduce sane people to gibbering wrecks in the matter of a few days. It is everywhere and can affect anyone. In fact, everyone has probably felt it at some point in their lives.

Money, relationships, friends, family, a job, degree work, your health, self-image – the list of worries that seep daily into our lives is an exhaustingly long one, and, despite most people’s perceptions of students as lazy, apathetic bums rolling around in the government’s money and sleeping in until four in the afternoon, we get it pretty hard as far as a stressful life goes. Most people I know feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day to please everyone and also have time for themselves. We are expected to have heaving diaries full of parties and coffee dates, participate in at least a handful of societies and extra-curricular activities, build up our CV with relevant work experience, not come out of university steeped in debt, not forget about family and friends back home whom we have deserted, be as sexually active as we dare, and also, of course, graduate from with at least a 2:1. Being a student today is by no means an easy option.

Luckily, stress is now a recognised condition, and, if you feel so inclined, a great way to start you on the road to salvation is to diagnose yourself. Stressbusting.co.uk and lessons4living.com/stress are two great websites for telling you how stressed you are. Currently I’m only scoring 11 out of a possible 20, which means I have “pretty good control”, but last night I was scoring a worrying 17, just on the threshold between “Danger zone, watch out!” and “Stressed out. You may need help.” Most stress tests are based on a combination of psychological, behavioural, emotional and physical symptoms. For example, tightness in the chest, muscle twitches, indigestion, headaches and unusual bowel movements can all signify stress, as well as a loss of concentration, lower sex-drive and mood swings. One of the most common feelings associated with stress is that nagging thought of ‘I should be able to cope with this, why do I feel like such a failure?’ or even an irrepressible urge to run away from everything and everyone.

Stress is biologically defined as the disruption of homeostasis by the release of hormones in response to an outside stimulus, which can be anything from a rollercoaster ride to anxiety about a loved one. In the short term, such stresses are healthy and normal, and often enhance bodily functions. This is termed “eustress”, i.e. a surge of adrenaline which enables the flight or fight instinct to be effectively activated. Distress, the counterpart to eustress, describes a more persistent state of pressure, which remains unresolved and results in damaging effects. The problem with stress as a medical disorder is that it is such a wide umbrella term encompassing a huge range of triggers and consequences, leaving it with no set definition and no set cure. As a result, the idea that someone is ‘suffering from stress’ is seen as something too commonplace and vague to deserve any kind of special treatment. It is definitely not considered as detrimental to one’s health as many other mental disorders, and most feel that it is something to just get on and cope with alone rather than a sign that it’s time to reach out for help.

With this in mind, I set to seeking out a solution. Where, as my sleeping hours decreased and my irritability increased, could I turn for help? The World-Wide Web, of course.

Cast your mind back for a second to November 7. Where were you going, what were you doing? More likely than not you were blissfully unaware that it was National Stress Awareness Day, an event proudly championed by the International Stress Management Association. Having been on a stress awareness bender, however, I was alert to this fact. So when the day finally came round, I excitedly checked the internet to see what mind-boggling things were planned to open up people’s eyes all over the country to the problem of stress. Television programmes, I speculated, free goodie bags, perhaps even those fun stress-busting games you can play on the internet. You can imagine my disappointment, therefore, when I logged-on to the dedicated website (nationalstressawarenessday.co.uk) only to be greeted by Stephen Fry’s face looking pained and confused (should he be my stress busting role model?) and the rather tacky and worryingly ambivalent slogan ‘Let’s give stress a holiday’.

There were two further links on the page. The first was to a list of the top ten ways to bust stress, each tip punctuated by one of a set of extremely irritating emoticons, beside which were a few lines telling me to exercise, make time for myself, and hug people more often. The other link allowed me to send a virtual postcard complete with an smiley face and custom message which, I am reliably informed, did little more than clog up my friend’s inbox and take a frustratingly long time to load. There was also, as the final icing on the cake, a number to call to talk about stress, open only on November 7 from 8am to 8pm.

So I turned instead to the University’s pages to see what help they could afford me. Three main services seemed to offer themselves to my cause. Nightline, a ‘confidential listening and information service…run by students, for students’; It’s a Duck’s Life, a ‘self-help website where students can share their mental health problems’, and the University’s Counselling Service.

Nightline operates around three levels of communication – face to face, telephone, and email – and is only open from 8pm to 8am. I sent them an email detailing how stressed I was, and got a very sweet email back one night later which was concerned, but not all that helpful. Their reply consisted mainly of empathetic statements like “That must be really hard for you” and questions like “What do you think you could do to change this?” It was a response, but not a particularly useful one, and certainly not one that made me feel much better. If anything it made me more aware of the plethora of problems I had, but then what was I expecting? A solution to all my problems from a stranger who knows nothing about me apart from the fact that I’m ‘stressed’? I concluded that the service probably works a lot better as a continuous dialogue, but this was something which I decided not to indulge in past the first email. It is an excellent idea, though, and not a service offered at many other universities.
My next port of call was It’s a Duck’s Life, a site for people to write about things troubling them in order to get them off their chest. Featuring a forum and a place for posting whole articles, there were quite a few interesting pieces, especially concerning social anxieties. Some of the material was poetry, and some of that was depressing verging on the suicidal. I did feel like there were other people going through similar crises to me, but was slightly put off after discovering a page littered with spam links for soft porn and pharmaceutical deals.

The counselling service was far more receptive to my needs. They replied to my rather brief ‘I’m stressed’ email within 24 hours, offering me an appointment in the next few days and encouraging me to go to one of the specially created relaxation courses they run.

The counselling session was, to understate the case, very awkward at first. I felt shy and a little embarrased, whilst the silent, probing looks from my counsellor left me wondering what I was supposed to be talking about. Once I got into the flow, however, I soon found myself talking freely about whatever came into my mind, and the conversation began to wander into more specifically stressful areas of my life. I left clearer in my mind and lighter in my heart than I had felt for a long time. And all I had done was explain my situation to someone who knew nothing about me. And all she had done was listen and repeat back to me the main points. Simple, but incredibly effective.

I had also picked up a relaxation CD. For only 50p, I could enjoy my very own 20 minute de-stress session at home. Of course, in the race of activity and work over the next few days I completely forgot about it, until one night, trying to finish an essay, the abandoned thing caught my eye. Sitting comfortably, I found myself closing my eyes and wallowing in the world created by Lorraine van Donk’s soothing voice, as she told me to tense and then relax every muscle in my body step by step, concentrate on the difference, and enjoy the weight of a relaxed limb. Fairly standard breathing exercises left me feeling sleepy and calm, and were followed by the best bit of it all, the path to my “special place.”

Although my housemate was a little confused upon hearing the line ‘Now touch your special place’, this was the most relaxing part of the CD. Spoken in a manner so controlled and soothing the experience was more akin to hypnotism than anything else, I was told to imagine my special place, visualise the views and colours and finally, reach out and imagine touching a part of my created world. I found myself peaceful and focussed afterwards, and more than a little wistful for the realisation of my ‘special place’.

However, these are all quite specific services, and of course, will help treat stress if you have the courage to reach out to ask for the help. Much like going to the doctor or dentist, treatment is out there, but only if you choose to seek it. But of course treatment of the symptoms is only one side of dealing with a problem; the other side is preventing the issue from arising in the first place. With this idea in mind, I approached the Student Support Office to see what the University as an institution was doing to address stress.

“Well, one of the areas for students we can have the most influence on is money. There is a lot of evidence that money is one the things that students are most concerned about. Consequentially, a series of articles go out on York Extra every couple of weeks about budgeting and use of money, all of which end with the message that if you are in difficulty there are people you can talk to about it. So we try to help manage this particular one of those areas that can lead students into stress.” Steve Page, Student Support Services Manager, looks very calm himself as he talks me through the various ways in which the University tries to tackle stress. “I mean, we can’t do much about students’ academic studies, but we do have a support structure that hopefully will pick up people who are in difficulty. There is obviously an element that students need to declare their problem. Most students are over 18 and therefore adult, and need to be able to run their own lives, but if we see someone that is clearly in difficulty I think there are a number of people who will pick that up. Hopefully academic departments will pick it up if someone’s work nosedives. Plus, I think the supervisor system is quite good on the whole, they might not see problems immediately, but they will see trends over time.”

Page, however, is not blind to the problem that I seem to keep on coming up against, the prospect of creating an environment in which stress is no longer such an accepted and inseparable part of student life. “We are starting to think: ‘Can we think a bit more holistically about well-being and what we as a University can do to approach that?’ And to what extent are we able to support the notion of student well-being as a whole? At the moment I would say we’ve got some good services, but it would be an additional level if we thought about it all more holistically. The sports centre, for example, is keen to take a much more inclusive approach to sport. In the past it has tended to focus solely on the interests of people who are quite serious about sport, but of course from a stress point of view some basic level of exercise is a really good idea. So I think they are now thinking quite actevely about a sport-for-all approach.”

It is this kind of attitude which is really needed both by those who are supposed to provide a support framework for people under stress, and also by the people suffering from stress themselves. There is no easy cure, although a chat with someone, anyone, and a space to clear one’s head goes a very long way indeed. The important thing to do is to change the way we live our lives. So next time the pressure starts building up, think about what you can alter to make your life a bit easier.

No-one can have it all, so stop demanding the impossible from yourself. In the immortal words of Sex and the City – in a very real way, my TV special place – “Stop expecting it to look how you expected.” With a few visits to your own special place, you might well find you sleep a bit better at night.

Sadly, almost instantaneously we were accosted by a screaming baby freshlette. Book bag in tow, our poor disarming protagonist fell to her knees in relief. Our newbie was without adequate protection for the heart numbing, nose running, freezing ecstasy of York, and so, through garbled squawking and stabs with her biro, our innocent first year made her request – winter accessories.

Hats: vessels to keep our brain cells alive, or our greasy, unwashed sex dreads covered. Flat caps, skull caps, Russian furs, berets, industrial plastic helmets (although he may actually have been a workman, who knows). The opportunities are limitless, yet one fashion faux pas ravages campus in a fashion similar to nits in a nursery: the beanie. A favourite of the discerning ‘rah’ when cleverly combined with a pair of sloppy Jack Wills tracksuit bottoms, or as part of the carefully posed ‘I’m just keeping warm’ look of the Topshop kids. Either way, tea cosies are meant for teapots. Secondly the baker-boy cap. Are you a baker? Do you keep croissants in your socks? Head ornaments are not meant to make one look like a dough salesman.

Next, the useful companion to the hat: Scarves. Generally worn either deceivingly messily or tied with the precision of an O.C.D. sufferer. Firstly, ‘the pash’, normally fuchsia pink or royal blue, these little monstrosities have pranced around campus for years, but what troubles us is the size of the bloody things, and their apparent permanent attachment to a string of pearls. Meanwhile, on the subject of skinny stripy scarves, no one suddenly thinks you went to public school, so give it up.

If time would allow it, a tirade on fingerless gloves would follow, but sadly our column space is drawing to a close (they don’t make you look artistic, and frost bite starts at the tips of your fingers – apologies, couldn’t help ourselves).

However, what is left for us to say is this: When it comes to York, the rule of less is more must be cast aside like last years Gucci clutch. When it’s this cold, you may as well just wear a thermal ski suit and be done with it…