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Summer School

An Activist’s Playlist

An Activist Playlist

As we know, activists don’t have iPods. Their playlists are written on note paper made of pressed husks of corn. All of these songs would be favourites, but only played if a vinyl edition made of pure local beeswax could be found.

No.

Track

Artist

Key Quote

1

Blowin’ in the Wind

Bob Dylan

“How many deaths will it take till he knows /

That too many people have died?”

2

Revolution

John Lennon

“If you want money for people with minds that hate / All I can tell is, brother, you’ll have to wait”

3

Dreams

Gabrielle

“They can come true”

4

Get Up Stand Up

Bob Marley

“Get up, stand up: stand up for your rights”

5

Peace Train

Cat Stevens

“Oh peace train sounding louder”

6

What’s Going On?

Marvin Gaye

“Picket lines and picket signs / Don’t punish me with brutality”

7

It’s Not Right But It’s Okay

Whitney Houston

“Pack your bags up and leave /

Don’t you dare come running back to me”

 

 

 

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Summer School

Food Glorious Food

Dinner.  A time for chatting, eating, and often queuing. Opinions on these ‘tasty’ snacks have been mixed. From the torture of the morning omelettes that oozed with milk to the joy of the potato wedges which blossomed with spices and most importantly salt. Yes, they were very good wedges.

The puddings have also been varied. From gungy crumble to the soft, sugar coated cake, which tempted people to return for seconds… and in some cases, even more. The watermelon was refreshing, until two days later, base group eight found the rinds in a corner on the floor. Those guilty have yet to forward.

Now vegetarianism is popular among Summer school attenders. And while the kitchen staff always provide an alternative option, which has gone down well, vegan food is scarce. Perhaps they can drink the water… but is this enough?

Finally, we would like to commend the serving staff on providing exact portions to the requirements of the participants. Michael claims that someone even asked for exactly seven peas, and the staff dutifully counted them out without raising an eyebrow at this dubious request. But then again, this is Summer School.

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Summer School

Ultimate: from the point of view of the Frisbee.

By James

I’m spinning through the air only to come clattering down and to be picked up by a pair of sweaty hands and to be flung across the field to skid along the rough grass stubble. I get picked up and tossed into a huge pair of hands the noise of cheering deafens me. Being thrown carelessly onto the floor I feel like being sick. Having recovered my stomach I gaze enviously at the round ring gliding effortlessly through the skies. Why do I have to be the one thrown to the side?