Catch up on Cornwall Campus: Life in Cornwall so far

Annabel Soper introduces her new regular column which helps students based in Exeter ‘Catch-up on Cornwall Campus’…

Accommodation at Cornwall is modern and shared with Falmouth…Image Credit: University of Exeter

Isn’t it strange how so many of the favourite small talk questions people choose to ask are the very ones that make so many of us groan a little inside when we hear them? One of my worst is “where are you from?” After a while during Freshers’ Week when this role-play of small talk became too tedious to bare I would respond by giving ever more outrageous answers to see what I could get away with. To be fair though, given the fact that I actually do live in Delhi they were never too far off.

My new favourite inner groan or ‘here we go again’ question over the last two years has been “so what university do you go to?”

I go to the University of Exeter – but at the Cornwall campus and study BSc Zoology. It isn’t a copy of the University of Exeter – it is the University of Exeter, yes I am studying animals, no I don’t want to be a zoo keeper, and no I have never actually been to Exeter before!

Deciding where to go to university was interesting. Naturally South Africa came up pretty early on, closely followed by Costa Rica, after which the parents put their foot down – something about best interests at heart and “you know there are animals in England…”– and the matter was settled, I was to study Zoology in Cornwall.

Reading through the prospectus with the family peering over my shoulder was great fun too – “oh look, you can join the sea swimming society… what fun! Oh golly…. no wetsuits allowed…”

Packing for the first term in a new place is always going to be a challenge. I think I concerned my mother that I was actually going to Costa Rica – board shorts, surf wax, sun cream…..

Image Credit: QuarrySafe.com

I’m sure you remember moving in on your first day at university. I had looked through the Freshers’ booklet and diligently circled all the societies, events and free trials I wanted to go check out. Of course, now being Cornish I was going to become a surfer, grow a few dreadlocks and take up an obscure pagan ritual, dancing along the shore at dusk while playing a ukulele.

Freshers’ Week passed quickly. We had all the usual painful ‘getting to know each other’ events all universities have, as well as learning all that they don’t tell you before you arrive. A big one for Exeter students in Cornwall is that we actually share a campus with Falmouth University – an arts university here.

By sharing a campus, we actually share halls of residents (in my flat there were 4 Exeter and 4 Falmouth students), a student union and all facilities. A lovely surprise, though quite unexpected! It seems also that Falmouth University students did not know beforehand either, judging by remarks such as “oh, I didn’t realise Geography was an art course at this uni….”

Two years later, student life in Cornwall has exceeded my expectations – not that they were strongly placed beforehand! I have still not been surfing – nor do I know of a huge number of people who have, and I could probably count on my hand the number of times I have actually been swimming along the Cornish coast.

I have been asking around – and by far what most people respond to when asked the question “what stands out to you most, about being a student in Cornwall” is how you can leave a lecture on campus, walk through a quaint town that has all the basic shops you need, and within 10 minutes be walking along the most beautiful coast this country has to offer.

Everyone is undoubtedly bias about their own university experiences, and will both understate the trials of the work load their course demands, and dramatically embellish the amazing night-life their city has to offer, and of course mine is no different.

I have loved meeting up with old school friends, swapping university experiences, and being privately glad I can go back to the seaside pubs and beach BBQs, while producing the odd Photoshopped surfing pic to hand out at family gatherings…

From talking to others at Exeter Streatham campus and other universities, it seems that life in Cornwall as a student does not contradict the slower paced, relaxed feel this holiday county is known for. But this by no means diminishes the resources the students have here to keep busy and entertained.

Image Credit: College of Humanities University of Exeter

Most of my days are spent exploring the dozens of independent cafes and coffee shops – all with free Wi-Fi, and ending in walks along the coast, making friends with the dog walkers and if you’re lucky some might invite you around for a meal (true story!)

However, I think people who decide to study in Cornwall (this is assuming nobody applied to study at Exeter University without realising their course was in Cornwall rather than at Streatham campus) most likely are not looking for the alcohol fuelled, hard partying in the big clubs that attract so many people to the cities. Although life in Cornwall in no way matches my preconceived ideas, it by no means disappoints.

There are now two clubs in town (that figure has doubled from last year), so one could assume that the nights are eerily quiet. Though if you do find yourself waking through town on student night you might notice all the otherwise inconspicuous bars and pubs come to life, full of students meeting together and comparing their weeks. A game I often play with my friend from the Art university is “guess the course” of the student who walks past the window we are sitting in, given the wide variety of courses– let alone universities – to choose from.

There is a definite unique vibe about studying somewhere that is so different to the typical university experience. Perhaps because by choosing to live in a quiet Cornish town, there is more of a lifestyle commitment than other university places, sharing a similar mindset with the other students. Or maybe that comes later, and after a couple of months of moaning about the lack of clubs, the distinctly high population of OAPs and the complete lack of Nandos, only then does the appreciation of the outdoors, beach BBQs and – I’ve heard – surfing, begin to take over.

Annabel Soper

Banning The Sun: A Certain Kind of Man

After this week’s heated debate concerning the fate of  The Sun at our University,  this piece of ‘new journalism’ written by former President of Exeter Gender Equality Society Rachel Brown gives a narrative which explores what stereotypes exist concerning The Sun’s male readership due to the presence of Page 3.

The little door opens, delinquent winds seize chance, throwing upon the innocent café entrance handfuls of rain and dust made fugitive from the cobbled square outside. As the remaining gusts quarrel with the tinny jingle of the doorbell, the discordant orchestration compels my gaze above the top of my book and toward the source where I observe your final wrestles against the wind.

As you triumphantly close the door, raindrops cling stubbornly to your coat and pull neglectfully at your hair. Sweeping the weather-beaten strands from your cheeks, your face is revealed like clouds parting for the sun.

“…I hoped: May you and your newspaper one day possess a more visionary male stereotype than just a certain kind of man.”
Photo Credit: An Untrained Eye via Flickr cc

I barter with luck while you survey the low-ceilinged café. Composed of typical West Country furniture, their blockish framework is so enduring that your grandchildren, buttery-faced, will probably swing their chubby legs from the same chairs as they gleefully tuck into their scones.

Fortune is mine, you sit at the neighbouring table and ask the waiter for a pot of Darjeeling tea. I inhale, and, trying not to disclose smiling joy at your choice, I briefly close my eyes to recall the virtues of your chosen tea:  “Its leaves decorate only rare heights and just one clime. Its texture rich, notes delicate and swansong sweet…”

I open my eyes. You have settled into your seat and assumed sovereign poise. Turned so slightly facing towards me, I bask in nature’s sweet coincidence — our equal purview of one another. Your posture is elegant, your plaid scarf wrapped as though arranged by birds in flight, your woollen coat sharp as a cliff’s edge and brogues that cannot silence unfailing taste. The waiter returns and you meet his face to thank him with kind eyes and a smile.

Any attempt of return to my book, without mere affectation, would be unthinkable! All I can do is give definition to the flowering picture of you. You exhale, perhaps signalling relief at your escape from the torments of the raging weather now behind us.

You draw down into your bag to produce some reading material. “What tales of you might this speak?” I ask myself hopefully. Its scarlet topped paper remains obscure to my vision. The article rises in your hand toward the table you rest upon. You open to its pages, now unveiling to me its cover from which I read: “The Sun”

Images of male “Sun readers” paraded in my mind — Misogynist. Chauvinist. Sexist. These words hurled themselves at me with a greater violence than the marauding winds outside. Arrows began to cast themselves into the picture of you. Your defence attorney pointed and quibbled: “But he will, of course, take no interest in passé page three. He is interested, I am sure, in only the sport and actual news.” But you did not hasten past page three to the later sports pages.

And it would always be: You had purchased The Sun, a newspaper that still makes boobs news. My vision of you punctured, I picked up my book, my bag and my disappointment, and there I hoped: May you and your newspaper one day possess a more visionary male stereotype than just a certain kind of man.

Rachel Brown

Is somebody’s choice of newspaper an accurate way to judge their personality? Is it fair to label readers of The Sun as misogynistic and sexist? Leave a comment below or write to the Comment team at the Exeposé Comment Facebook Group or on Twitter @CommentExepose.