In a room on a round table
Stands a candle in a bottle.
Beside the table on a chair
Sits a man with tufty grey hair.
His eyes are crinkled and his cheeks are lined
And age seems to have stolen the blue from his eyes
But still there’s a glint of remembrance clear
As he stares at the bottle
And the flame dancing there.

The room is dark and empty
With no furnishings at all,
Except for the table
And the man’s rickety stool.
The watering eyes drift from the flame to the wall
Where the shadow of the candle dances like ladies at a ball
Who in his youth would all ask his hand
And swirl like the smoke that
Wisps from the candle in strands.

But now the candle shortens
As it flickers and sputters
And as the wax drips like time
It rolls down the bottle
And the years slide past
Tick tock
Drip, drop.

The shadows that once danced
Have now grown quite still:
It’s ten years later and the
Man’s heart gives a thrill.
The shadows are now calm and take the shape of a couple
Holding hands at a table where there’s a candle in a bottle.
The old man’s eyes grow young and blue with tender love
As he remembers the exquisite night
That he made his lover, his wife.

But now the candle grows shorter
As it flickers and sputters
And as the wax drips like time
It rolls down the bottle
And the years slide past
Tick tock
Drip, drop.

The couple have vanished,
The shadows split and twirl.
Their children are now shown
Four: and each a girl.
The man’s lined face that’s been so worn with care
Smoothes as he sees his darling daughters there.
The wall that was so blank becomes a portrait of life
But then each grows up,
Leaves home, becomes a wife.

And the candle grows still shorter
As it flickers and sputters
And as the wax drips like time
It rolls down the bottle
And the years slide past
Tick tock
Drip, drop.

The children are gone
And with them forty years,
The old couple remains
But the grim reaper leers:
He’s been watching a while and biding his time
But now he’s a-thinking “I can make one of them mine”.
The man gives a sob and a heart-wrenching shout
As the candle’s flame flickers
His wife’s shadow goes out.

Still the candle burns shorter
And it stammers and gutters
And as the wax drips like time
It creeps down the bottle:
A year crawls past then
Drip drop
Drip. Stop.

Since the recession hit at the end of 2008, we seem to have become inundated with adverts cajoling us to better ourselves in some respect. We can learn how to be a plumber, an electrician or a mechanic, we can undertake evening classes to improve our maths skills, we can even buy programmes to teach us a foreign language. All these adverts are sold to us on the basis that, now we are newly qualified in whatever respect it might be, we will surely be more employable and thus be able to take the next step towards achieving our dream job and a more satisfying and worthwhile career.

In the novel Howards End, written by E.M. Forster in 1910, Victorian values are eloquently displayed. Forster examines the changes in England’s class structure and in doing so includes three families from different social classes. Writing only eight years after the death of Queen Victoria, it is evident that these families represent the classes existent towards the end of Victoria’s reign, and one of them in particular demonstrates clearly the Victorian value of education as a means of furthering oneself. Leonard Bast, a member of the lower-middle class, is obsessed throughout the book with ‘culture’. He believes that if he reads the right books and goes to enough concerts then ultimately he will be elevated into the class that he idolises. There seems to be clear similarities here between the adverts that we hear today on the radio, watch on the TV or read on the adverts adorning the Underground’s carriages. If we learn something new, better ourselves in regards to education, then surely we will move onwards and upwards in society.

I must confess that I too have fallen prone to this mode of thought. Currently I am teaching myself shorthand, learning to knit a jumper, taking French lessons and meeting regularly with a girl to practice and improve my German; it seems that I am indeed still Victorian in my opinion of education. A number of my friends appear to be the same – one is currently taking a German GCSE, another is doing an evening class in maths whilst a third is taking a course in Art and Film. In the novel Leonard Bast ultimately is killed by a pile of falling books; clearly his quest for education and self-improvement failed. I am hoping for a less loaded send off myself, and perhaps am still even being naively optimistic that my post-graduation education might be of some use to me. However, the very fact that I am still eager to continue learning shows that Victorian values are in some respects still going strong. What is that you are doing? Are you still Victorian too?

Both sides are strong, both sides are stubborn, both sides are convinced of their superiority and both sides are keen to shout about their opponents’ failings. Last year the rivalry was taken to a new level when I heard it suggested that different resorts be created for the different sports by someone sitting on the chairlift next to me. Surely this is unnecessary – let’s face the grievances here and see if we can create a ceasefire before the pistes turn red.

Firstly then: the skiers’ attack. Being the more established of the two sports, skiers tend to feel that they have a certain right-of-piste over the boarders, and their complaints are thus considerable. From personal ear-bashing it seems their main concern lies in safety. Boarders sit in the most inconsiderate places; they lounge around on the snow just over the ridge and tend to be in groups that spread right across the piste. Sounding familiar? Furthermore, they make such a racquet! Boarders intentionally make that nerve-jingling grating noise as they cut too close behind you, they deliberately set out to instil fear in all well-intentioned skiers on the slopes. If this isn’t enough to prove their pesky nature, then surely the fact that they are bound to take you out whilst getting off the ski lift provides the metaphorical straw to break the skiers’ patience?

Being a boarder myself I would like to take these points in hand and provide: the boarders’ defence, point-by-point. I must admit that we do tend to sit just over the ridge and kind of out of sight, but those among us who want our bodies to stay in one piece do try to tuck ourselves away at the sides. ‘But why stop there?’ I hear you skiers cry. Because ridges invariably come just after a flat, and boarders don‘t have poles. We can’t stop on flats and get going nice and easily like you, we need a slope. So we use the momentum we have to get over the flat and stop to wait for others just over the ridge where we won’t have to walk to get started. And to address the noise issue: we can’t help that our boards make a noise when we slow. It’s normally because we can’t see an easy way through, so we slow to ensure that we don’t ride dangerously and take anyone out. On top of that, we’re usually nowhere near as close to you as it sounds – that would be cruel, and we’re not out to scare anyone. Finally, I am sorry if a boarder has taken you out whilst getting off a ski life. I’ve been there too, but I’ve also been taken out by skiers. When we’re learning we all have to get better somehow.

Now then, I hope that that brief countering of the common complaints that I have heard has pacified some skiers, though this paragraph may well get your backs up again. Now it’s the turn of the boarders’ attack. Here, I have heard it claimed (and shamefully joined in myself) that skiers are inconsiderate in the way that they ski. They are turning, turning, turning nicely in a line and then BAM! Just as you go to overtake them they change tack, sweep the other way to their previous pattern and cause you to slam on the brakes to avoid ploughing straight in to them! Is it really necessary for them to take up the entire piste?! Beyond that, in the lift queues, why do they feel it imperative to jam their pole right in front of you or worse still, stab it on your board? The number of scratches on top of my board as a consequence of an irate skier’s pole is impressive, and probably not unusual. Frankly, it annoys us! If we’re British, just because we’re boarders, it doesn’t mean that we’ve forgotten how to queue and need to be stopped from our persistent efforts to jump in front.

However, having spoken to various skiers, I have heard their defence and I must admit that it is as valid as the boarders’. Everyone on the slopes knows that the further down the piste has the right of way; boarders up-slope should therefore be prepared for potential irregularities on the skiers’ part. Moreover, the piste is there for us all to enjoy so if a skier (or anyone else for that matter) wants to take their time going down it and use the whole thing then why shouldn’t they? They’ve paid their money just like everyone else. And with regards to lift queues, they’re often so jammed that there’s no snow to shake a pole at, let alone stab it in to. It’s purely accident if it ends up on your board, not an intentional slight.

Now, I am sure that there are some skiers out there who do deliberately poke their poles at boarders, and I am also sure that there are some boarders who go out of their way to upset skiers. On the whole though we’re all just there to have a good time, a good ski and a flipping good holiday. Maybe this year, if you do get a chance to hit the snow, we can all try to be more considerate and remember our polite British ways. Hopefully we can understand each other a bit better now, and even if we do get annoyed then let’s keep a stiff upper lip and a polite smile for one another rather than create separate resorts!

This year, in a fit of enthusiasm, I made not one but two resolution. Two! What possessed me?! If the truth be told the first one is the same as last year’s (a very good one too I believe, I’ll come on to that in a moment), but the second one is brand new for the brand new decade.  It is to be more proactive. Initially this seemed like a fairly good idea, but now that January 2^nd has struck and I feel obliged to heed this well-intentioned plan, I’m not so sure that it was. To be more proactive. Why, that’s like a hundred resolutions in one! It covers every sphere of life! Had I thought of this on December 31^st then I have no doubt that I would have been more proactive and made a more manageable resolution, but as it is I must strive to fulfil it as it stands – at least until 20^th January when I give up and vow to never make another resolution. Work life is included of course, and this I feel could be the easiest sphere to succeed in – work is generally the area in which I am already most proactive. The difficulty comes in the evenings and weekends. Does this resolution mean that every moment that I am not planning something or undertaking some previously-planned activity I will be racked with guilt for not being proactive? Does it mean that in the evenings when I am cooking an easy meal I will feel that I should be trying to emulate Delia Smith? Does it mean that each time I put off doing some chore I will be constantly aware of my lack of productivity until guilt drives me into action? Is it, ultimately, going to drive me towards some form of breakdown as I work myself to the bone in an effort to be more proactive?! Well, probably not. I’m generally pretty rubbish at keeping resolutions which is clearly demonstrated by the fact that I am writing this on January 2^nd and not the 1^st as I surely would have done otherwise.

The thing that perplexes me most though, is that I don’t think that it is unusual for people to feel guilty about breaking their resolutions. Throughout the year we all tend to strive to be better, but each year we feel that on January 1^st this will magically become easier and we will become domestic goddesses, business professional extraordinaires or whatever else it may be.  Surely that isn’t the way to bring in a new year? And surely, if we do insist on making a resolution (as peer pressure would encourage us to do – it seems to be impossible to go anywhere in the first month of the year without being asked what yours is) then we should make one that might actually be attainable?

This brings me to my second resolution. It is this: to go to the toilet when I need it. I decided to carry this one over from last year as, frankly, I think it is damned good. All those whom I have told about it have either reacted with a laugh or bewilderment, but after consideration people seem to be won around as most of us do wait too long before we go and end up hopping to the bathroom in some discomfort. Agree? It seems to me to be the perfect resolution. It’s not particularly challenging (I probably should have learnt it at five), it is helpful (apparently it means that I can look forward to a life without urinary infections, much like the one I’ve enjoyed so far) and it doesn’t make me feel guilty. I think it’s such a success that I shall keep it up each year. It saves me making any more useless ones that I am bound to fail at, and also means that I shall never be stuck with nothing to say when asked the inevitable question of ‘So, have you made a New Year’s resolution yet?’. Perfect!

The project that I am undertaking is a novel one – it is my job to find all the graduates who left the University during the 1970s and with whom we have lost contact over the years. Considering that during the 1970s inclusion into the Alumni Association was not automatic this is no small task; I am looking for over 9,100 ex-students who could now be anywhere in the world. In order to begin to tackle the challenge I have laid out my plan of action, set myself targets and deadlines and done a vast amount of research on the best methods possible to trace our lost graduates. All the other universities with whom I have liaised have proved themselves to be incredibly helpful and now the quest has truly begun; we are well on our way to finding our first lost graduates.

The project so far has required me to demonstrate and exercise numerous skills: I have needed to do some serious number crunching to work out the projected costs, I have been required to co-write a brief in order to find financial backing for the project (which proved very successful) and I have honed my research skills in order to discover the most effective way of going about the project. My communications skills have been proven whilst liaising with various external companies, and my teamwork capabilities demonstrated in the numerous team meetings we have had to ensure that the project runs smoothly. Furthermore, my ability to work independently has been confirmed thanks to the very nature of the project – I am essentially heading it and have sole responsibility for undertaking the necessary work. This has required me to maximise my time management skills to ensure that I meet the deadlines I set myself so the whole project can be finished on time. So far, so good!

One of the aspects of the job that I have found most interesting must be the social media side of it, as this is clearly now a vitally important medium in the business world. We are utilising various social networking sites to ensure that we get the opportunity to reconnect with as many graduates as possible so that no-one who wishes to be back in contact with the University is disappointed. I am soon to be setting up a Facebook fan page, which is very exciting as it will provide me with a great opportunity to become practically experienced in promoting a product (or in this case, a university) through social media. The ability that businesses now have through social media to target particular audiences is vast, and the opportunities that this can provide are phenomenal – I can’t wait to see what response we get through our social media campaign. Further to this though, good old-fashioned print will also be used to ensure that as many 1970s graduates as possible hear that the University would love to be back in touch with them – it will be my job in the near future to correspond with various local newspapers to ensure that this project gets in print. A combination of the two, plus various other methods we are utilising, should hopefully bring impressive results with many lost graduates returning to the fold.

The social side of the internship programme is also excellent and, thanks to the various workshops we have been able to participate in (such as the Myers-Briggs personality types workshop), we have had plenty of time to mingle. Getting on well with those you work with is important to me as I am such an outgoing person, and I have found that the internship programme has been great in providing me with opportunities to socialise with the other interns. Further to the opportunities provided by the programme though, a small group of us have also taken it upon ourselves to organise a social event so we can all meet in a less formal capacity. Sadly, I may well be very bruised in two weeks time after our planned ice skating outing!

Cynicism towards fashion has always been around – one needs only to remember that women who dressed savvy in the 1920s were given the term ‘flappers’ – but perhaps it has been heightened more recently by the latest world recession. I have heard it said on more than one occasion in the last year or so that being interested in what you wear and using it to express yourself is shallow, ineffective and an irresponsible use of money. Being a fan of fashion, I would beg to differ and instead respond that clothes not only demonstrate to the outside world how you perceive yourself, but also hint at your interests and can even reflect and enhance your mood. Combined, this seems a fair list of achievements for something that is supposedly ‘shallow’.

We all dress to impress whether we like to admit it or not, it just depends what someone’s personal ‘impress’ exactly entails. What we choose to wear is an outward expression of our self-image, and we all alter it to suit the impression we are trying to make at any particular time. Very few of us wear the same outfits to work that we do at the weekend – when going to work we dress to show what we are, and what we aspire to be. The same is true of the clothes we wear in our free time – we identify ourselves with a particular group or a particular style through our own individual fashion sense. Even those who claim to have no interest in fashion can’t help but use it to demonstrate how they identify themselves, and you only need to look around in a university town to realise this. Hundreds of students of all different castes wear society hoodies and, as a result, shout to the world that they are not only students of a particular university, but also that they are members of a particular club be it Snowboarding, Physics Society or Christian Union. These expressly state an interest the person has, but also that they identify themselves in a particular way. Even when ‘high fashion’ isn’t involved it is impossible to avoid saying something about yourself through the clothes that you wear. So far it seems that clothes do do at least some talking.

What we wear doesn’t need a club or society’s name emblazoned across it though to say something about us: our interests are also more subtly reflected by our choice of clothes. A good friend of mine put this very eloquently when she proclaimed ‘I love knitwear because I love to knit!’ Looking at her in her scarf and chunky knit jumper you wouldn’t necessarily guess that she knits, and thankfully she’s not so much of an eccentric that she walks around constantly knitting – instead she tends to confine her habit to cafes and her sofa or mine – but you might guess that this is where her interests lie. No-one would look at her and think that she’s a huge fan of bling jewellery or neon tights and all that they are associated with. The fact that she dresses as she does clearly doesn’t tell you everything about her as a person, but it, and fashion more generally, does give an indication of her interests.

Clothes are also pretty good at telling something about your personality. From personal experience I know that having to wear clothes I wouldn’t personally choose makes me feel uncomfortable, and having spoken to numerous other people, they tend to feel the same. So we dress in a way that keeps us in our comfort zone, but does this say anything about us? Absolutely! Everyone’s comfort zone is different and our clothes tell the world where ours is. When I asked a friend why she wears what she does she replied that it’s because it ‘looks good but doesn’t stand out in a crowd.’ And that is just like her – she isn’t comfortable being the constant focus of the proceedings and her clothes reflect that by not drawing unnecessary attention to her.

So far so good; clothes seem to be holding up fairly well to the scrutiny and demonstrating that they do still say something about us as individuals despite frequently being mass produced. But can they go a step further? Do they not only speak of our self-perception, interests and personality, but also shape and reflect our mood – do we dress to feel happy when we feel happy, comforted when we feel down or cosy when we feel snug? As it’s coming up to Christmas and the festive mood is beginning to hit, the example that springs to mind is going to watch the switching on of the Christmas lights. In the ideal world it would be a crisp, snowy evening; in reality it will probably be overcast and drizzling but the mood will certainly be festive. How many of us will don the woolly bobble hat or the fluffy earmuffs despite the rain just because that makes you feel more ‘Christmassy’? Quite a few I should imagine, because clothes do show how you feel. It’s like the cliché of dressing up in your mum’s clothes when you’re younger and want to feel more grown up. Clothes can and do shape and reflect your mood.

So do your clothes do the talking? Maybe now that we can’t afford to buy quite so many their vocabulary has somewhat diminished, but of course they still do. Everything that we wear says something. Some pieces scream you’re retro, others shout that you like football whilst some whisper quietly that you’re in a mellow mood. Expressing yourself through fashion is inevitable and creative so you might as well enjoy it. Those who think that it’s not a means of self-expression are forgetting that even their clothes are telling the world that, amongst other things, they’re just not that interested in fashion!