If you squint a little, it’s easy to take yourself back to the seventies. A time when the refectory was one large room and tables and chairs could be moved to accommodate the conversation’s shifting numbers. Where a cafeteria and a French crepe cafe fed the masses without the need for branded fast food and juices.
Where the cinema teasingly screened multiple films each day. If there had been a subject called Film Studies in those days, I’d have academic honours to burn.
The sandstone origins of the campus remain central. It’s easy to find the library building and remember frantic studying for end-of-year exams. To remember news of the dismissal of a Prime Minister coming through the loudspeaker system and a rush of bodies heading to the streets to protest.
The walk, sometimes run, through the courtyard to the Michie Building and favourite English tutorials with an always stimulating radical feminist who is now the…
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