Taking the temperature of one of St Andrews' biggest publications Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed is how I began my second year in our sodden town, determined not to spend another year waiting for my friends to stop vomiting in the Vic’s toilets. I’d spent the entirety of first year seemingly hiking between DRA, McIntosh, and Sallies, and what time I had left was spent pretending to do readings and gossiping in the corner of Younger Hall. It was, in other words, a perfectly respectable St...

’Twas six months ‘til Christmas, and all through the town, not a golfer was putting, not one student around. Market Street shimmered in the soft summer light, yet one tiny shop glowed as if it were night. The Nutcracker Christmas shop stood bright and tall, with garlands and baubles lining every small wall. Though July breezes wandered in off the North Sea, its windows still sparkled like a winter marquee. The children were nestled in Rusacks Hotel beds, while visions of nutcrackers danced in...

Since returning from a year abroad, and being accustomed to the introduction: “Hi, my name’s Vic, like the Vic,” there was only one place...