CUPHES: Cambridge University Public Health and Epidemiology Society

CUPHES is the Cambridge University Public Health and Epidemiology Society

Five Candidates and All That

I knew that my Committee is a fantastic one when a more senior member of the Peterhouse Graduate Society – a 4^th year PhD student – pulled me aside, noticing the high volume of people hanging-out in the MCR, and asked if there was an official event going on that evening. Surely the assumption was that something had to be scheduled in order to account for the large turnout of merry people. Well, as luck would have it, we weren’t running an event, and, in fact, what he saw was what we usually see in this academical year’s MCR.

Juxtapose this level of participation with the opportunity for a new person to join the Committee as the new First Year Representative, and what you get is the highest number of nominees vying for this position in living memory of the Peterhouse MCR.

Whereas we had only two candidates running for First Year Rep for the past four Committees, we had five candidates this year, and each is as good as his/her competitor. Tonight we held hustings for the position of First Year Rep, and each did a fine job presenting their respective platforms. It's wonderful to be in the presence of such a bunch of well spoken people who care about the community they are a part of. The main problem now is that, come time to vote, we are faced with a hard decision since they are all, hands down, equally qualified to be First Year Rep! 

Sadly, only one candidate will win, but I would like to believe that they will all win in the end: even if their bid for first year representative didn’t precipitate a spot on this year’s Committee, what is abundantly clear is that we have a set of very strong candidates for next year’s various positions in the Committee represented the list of nominees for First Year Representative. I'm not worried about the future anymore.

This year, we have developed the reputation of being “that active MCR” in the graduate community. With the high-level of participation from our current membership, I have no doubt that we will continue to inspire future MCR’s to maintain this reputation for years to come. There is a palpable difference in the pulse of the MCR this year. I’m not going to claim that it was easy to get the MCR to becoming what it has become – having a great Committee and having hemorrhaged a fair share of my life force into my work as President and First Year Rep certainly helped – but whenever I sip my espresso in the MCR, I couldn’t help but to smile to myself and feel that I did something right.

This Halloween, We Rocked

Fresher’s week has come and gone, but the energy and excitement of that fresh start still lingers in the Petrean air. This year, Peterhouse is blessed with an especially high intake of keen graduate students. Hailing mostly from the US and Germany, new graduate students are coming from all corners of the world to study in the oldest college in Cambridge. Best of all, they are taken by the archaic traditions and social events of Peterhouse, e.g. in the latest sign-up for Grad Hall, not only did all the spots fill-up within a day, the list continued to splash into a sizable wait-list. 

There was a time when the MCR Committee was fearful of events being undersubscribed. This year, we need not fear for any shortage of enthusiasm from our galvanized MCR. 

On the eve of All Hallow’s Eve, we held our Halloween Cocktail Hour. We celebrated a day early so as to provide members with another day to recover from the rigors of rocking out in fancy costume. I, for one, dressed as the king of the god’s, Zeus, where my crown of laurels was made from a ring of golden Christmas tinsel and golden leaves from Poundland (think the British equivalent of a cheapo dollar store), where Vicki, my partner, meticulously trimmed off the tinsel, leaving only the leaves behind for my crown, as I wielded a divine weapon, a thunderbolt made of cardboard and yellow construction paper (and in the absence of glue, I used staples to keep it together). I wore a toga, comprised of a white twin-sized flat sheet that I bought from Primark, with safety pins securing it in place. The pièce de résistance were my leather sandals, styled after those seen in biblical movies. The costume was so awesome that one can only assume that it was confusing to most people as to whether they were running into me in a costume or experiencing a theophany of cosmic proportions.

This punch's an eyeful.

Our MCR was decked out in full Halloween regalia, with an inflatable cauldron sitting in the middle of the room, filled with many beers. One of our members carved a Jack O’Lantern, which was illuminated next to a  portrait of a sassy dancing skeleton. For cocktails, we had an abundance of creative ones, ranging from Voodoo Juice (a rosy coloured drink made from grenadine, armaretto, and pineapple) with “eyeballs” (lychees stuffed with blueberries), Peterhouse Puss (a disturbingly green cocktail made with Chambord, rum and a mishmash of other spirits), and the Grateful Dead (a drink that was dark blue made with tequila, gin, and blue food colouring).

In our midst was Carmen San Diego, The Mummy, a Wisconsin fanatic, a phantom, an alien with a bulbous head, a ghost, a vampire, a medieval princess, a few cats, a dog, and most importantly, a bunch of merry Petreans and Cantabrigians. To the sound of The Monster Mash, Lady Gaga, the Ghostbusters, and a wide array of other tunes, we rocked the night away, ending well after midnight. Throughout the evening, the party became the envy of the JCR*, with some successful undergrads smuggling themselves into the MCR amidst the merriment that unfolded in our home base. Never mind that – it was heartening to see that the MCR became a place to be envied, desired, to look forward to going to.

Other fantastic things we have done since the start of Michaelmas include a Guys and Dolls Cocktail Event (think mobsters form the Dick Tracy Era, with jazz flooding our hallowed MCR -- I dressed as a banker, decked out in a bowler hat and britches, what Americans call suspenders), a fancy dress party themed after "the letter P" (I was pacman, while others dressed as Pocahontas, pirates, portraits, policemen and even P Diddy), formal hall followed by a ghost tour of Cambridge, a black-tie Grad Hall, and countless cups of espresso, tea, biscuits, and continuous good conversation. 

The challenge now is to balance my research, work (I'm running supervisions for 1st year medics), and life. With my responsibilities as the Secretary of the Kelvin Club, the scientific society of Peterhouse, and president of the Cambridge University Public Health and Epidemiology Society, I've plenty more time-juggling to do. Of course, with all this activity, the PhD has slightly gone down the drain. But, I have to admit, I'm having the time of my life.  

With so many things to do, and people coming/dying to come to the MCR, I am confident that it will be a very good year.

*The "JCR" is the Junior Combination Room, which is also known as the Sexcentenary Club, or the Sex Club for short. This is the common room, i.e. lounge, available for all members of Peterhouse to enjoy, including graduate students, though it is dominated by the undergrads and very much their institution. Funny thing about the Sex Club is that it has been celebrating it's 600 years of existence for more than a century...which really dates it as an even more ancient club than it actually sounds, and framing American establishments, such as the Tercentenary Theatre in Harvard Yard, as relatively new places.

Un Bel Di: Botanic Garden, then Punting, Followed by Dinner at Hall

To celebrate the continued sun spell, we went to the University of Cambridge Botanic Garden. Immediately afterwards we went punting towards Grantchester, but only made it about a quarter of the way due to punting-skills issues. Exhausted from the hard work, we had dinner at Peterhouse. Pleasantly tired from a full day, I fell asleep with a smile on our face, despite the inadvertent foot injury acquired from punting (Who gets foot injuries from punting?! Wait, I do.)

Here are some images of shoots and budding plants at the Botanic Garden. Blessed with yet another sunny day (something's certainly not right...it has not rained for days here!), the offerings of the Garden were vivid and spectacular. Redolent with the green scent of abundant plant life, and the sweetness of flowers, the Garden smelled of summer. Perhaps this may be the spectre of global warming rearing its ugly head in early spring, but it was tremendous nonetheless.

Young, the leaves glow red.

With a shoot, life launches from

the fingers of trees.

~Kelvin, channeling his Sage Aspect

The day also smelled like allergies. It literally brought tears to my eyes.

If only we could look everywhere at the same time -- so much beauty to take in at every living moment. Left to Right: Nicole, Ania, Michelle.

Under the tree, they gathered.

Left to Right: Ania, Dan's kids, Andy, Olivier, Dan.

Ania couldn't stop snapping pictures, too.

Olivier's camera battery died, but he didn't seem too upset.

One of my favorites: dead, shriveled leaves. But if you looked closely...

...it is actually quite alive. This plant likens a phoenix, rising from its ashes.

A study of dead plant debris in the Garden.

Andy and Dan engaged in an interesting conversation.

Positively the hairiest flower I've seen.

Cantabrigians herding through the Garden.

Left: Alex, Dan, Michelle, Erik, Dan's baby.

You say "ladybird", I say "ladybug."

(notice the British placement of the comma and the American placement of the period)

Olivier and Andy hanging out on what we initially though was an island.

It turned out to be merely a visual illusion, and a feat of landscaping: it was a delta.

This little gosling got separated from its parents.

The magnolias blossomed in full glory.

Almost a Georgia O'Keefe.

Pansies reaching for the sun.

Very red...something-flowers.

This succulent afforded an interesting perspective.

In full blossom, this.

Plants, glorification of 

vernal resplendence.

~Kelvin, incidental haiku dabbler.

This plant looks like a pin cushion stuck with flower needles.

A closer look at the "flower needles" of the pin cushion plant.

These almost look like alien-pods.

Apparently, this is a real plant. I did not touch it to verify this fact, 

but will take the word of the Botanic Garden that it is real.

Yet another orange explosion.

This bee's colony did not collapse, phew.

Name the algorithm that maps out the curvature of this tendril.

Tremendous tropical-green-flower-claws.

A lazy cat snoozing in the tropical plants section.

Venus fly traps!

This Sun Dew "ate" really well.

That cactus looks more like snakes or a bunch of tails?

Nicole and Andy beam in the sun.

Erik in his usual torpid state.

From the Botanic Garden, we walked to Scudmore's by Peterhouse, where we hired two punts.

Nicole gives it a go, first.

Left to Right: Michelle, Andy, Olivier, Nicole.

In my punt, plenty of nervous laughter.

Left to Right: Alex, Dan, Matthew.

I think we're about to hit another punt.

Michelle gave it a go. Olivier also thought it a good idea.

Discussing the finer points of punting?

Taking a break at the bank, we had cheese and grapes. 

There was also bread and nutella, and miscellaneous baked sweets.

It's my turn to punt.

Shaky start.

Eventually, we made it back to Scudmore's. While I was navigating, we crashed into no fewer than 4 trees, nearly got knocked off the boat from the stick getting stuck in the mud, and actually fell INTO the boat (phew!) right as I was trying to dock the punt at Scudmore's. This is how I acquired a bruised foot.

This is how the professionals do it -- 4 punts at the same time.

A view from the Granta pub, where we relaxed after the intense workout from punting.

It was dinner time, and we walked back to Peterhouse, 

where we realized that we were in the presence of an incidental Fellow.

(Of course she had no idea that only Fellows get to walk on the grass!)

The remains of the day, captured in Grisborne Court, Peterhouse, Cambridge.

Too tired to bother with cooking, we dined in Hall. I had lamb with cheesey cauliflower and Peterhouse "roasted" potatoes (they are more likely to be fried). Exhausted, I fell right asleep after dinner.