So, what did you do during the war?
It’s a question often asked decades after a conflict. What type of service did you put in? Where were you stationed? See any key battles? Any high profile scalps?
Elections are often similar, if not frequently shorter.
It might be rather trite, but there’s huge similarities. A clear end-goal, seldom a clean-cut result, the day-to-day attrition, the big attacks, the counter-blows, the casualties, and the domination of the news cycle. Continue reading
I’ve always been perplexed by what exactly an ‘entrepreneur’ is. Or what on earth ‘enterprising’ means. However, I feel I’ve inadvertently become exactly that.
It all started over a lunch a few weeks ago. The previous week a few of us had covered the Doncaster and Derbyshire local elections during what the Department of Journalism Studies calls ‘production week’. Effectively, the newsroom acts as though we were a professional organisation, publishing 9-5, Monday to Friday. As somebody with an interest in politics I put myself forward to cover the elections, and ended up managing a politics team of 5-6. Despite being dreadfully ill (I really do need to get around to that ‘balanced diet’ thing, my immune system tells me that there might be something to it), it was fantastic fun, eye-opening and reminded me again why I want to become a journalist. Continue reading
There’s often moments in your life when you reassess whether you’re on the right track. Affirming moments. Being on a journalism course, within the last month I’ve had two of those moments, for very different reasons. Continue reading
Choose University. Choose meeting new people. Choose learning new information. Choose experiencing different cultures. Choose topical Trainspotting references and clichés. With three years of undergraduate life and two years of work under my belt, I thought by and large, I’d done my fair share of cultural embracing.
However, University, like life, always provides new opportunities to broaden your horizons and embrace other cultures. From the culinary, like being offered chicken’s feet by a Chinese flatmate (I politely turned them down), to the literary; when I was asked to deliver the ‘Immortal Address’ at a Burns’ Night supper hosted by a Scottish friend. Continue reading
“These guys won’t tell you, but they all think you’re mad doing what you’re doing”. Such were the paraphrased words of my former boss, bellowed audibly into my ear above the thumping music at my leaving do, as I said goodbye to colleagues I had spent 12 months working with, to return to education. Continue reading