AGAIN, we hit a stone wall. A pretty one, this time.

As a receptionist, the girl in the lilac blouse and charcoal skirt had two weapons: her charm and the telephone. She used both to good effect. After speaking into the receiver for a few seconds, she offered us a charming smile and shook her head.

No, she said, nobody was available to talk to us.

As my colleague Dave Wheeler and I exited the glass doors of the Studland House in Lansdowne, we were deflated. Rule number one of journalism is simple: get past the receptionist. We hadn’t. As reporters we needed to desperately raise our game.

All that morning, Dave and I were doorstepping, trying to interview people. ‘No comment’ followed ‘no comment’, which, I am told, is pretty standard in the life of a reporter. But I was only a student. And this was my first big ‘live’ story. Worse, all this was happening right in my own backyard – on our own campus.

We were tasked to find out all we could about our vice-chancellor-to-be, for a story STANDF1RST was running for its second edition. What did BU expect of its new boss? Indeed what kind of a boss was Professor John Vinney? How was he selected for the top job?

Paul Curran, the former vice-chancellor, in conversation

Simple assignment, we thought. But we ran into trouble straightaway. The university seemed to be populated by two kinds of people: the ones who didn’t know – or care – about the new appointment (mostly students), and the ones who cared, but didn’t want to talk.

Everyone was silent about the selection process. It was confidential, people who were part of two-day exercise at the Executive Business Centre told us gravely. Couldn’t possibly discuss it.

That, we sort of understood, but what about the people who just wouldn’t talk because, well, because they wouldn’t talk? It was kind of strange, and unexpected, meeting this wall of wariness, particularly among academics and other professionals on campus. I had expected a willingness to discuss issues, including university politics, a willingness to comment, to engage — but many appeared uncomfortable talking about the new boss.

Like many students I have a job that pays me £6 an hour. I chop up vegetables and wash dishes at the Anglo European College of Chiropractic.

The evening of STANDF1RST’s launch, the AECC had invited its staff to a hog roast. I nearly choked on my pork roll and stuffing when AECC Principal Dr Kenneth Vall climbed up on a table, glass in hand, and announced that news had just come through that “the new vice-chancellor of Bournemouth University is the internal candidate John Vinney”.

There was polite silence for a moment and the disinterested audience returned to their pork rolls and free wine. We had uploaded the first edition of STANDF1RST earlier in the day, but perhaps it needed updating. Should I run home and file a copy – I mean, this was big news for a university audience, right?

I filed a news copy that night. But the real story, I was told, was to inform our readers about Vinney, provide insights into him. Answer questions the readers would have in their minds. Like, what did colleagues who had worked with him think of him? Like, why was he chosen over other candidates ? I was to pair up with Dave and work on a cover story for the next edition.

Approaching people for information requires confidence. It is also important to have a plan. Ours was simple. We were convinced the story hinged on what sources in the BU community said, so we intended to talk to as many people as possible. Any and every person was a potential source.

But by end of Day One, Dave and I decided we needed different plan. We needed to target people more clearly – not any Tom, Dick and Harry, but people who knew Vinney, people in positions who wouldn’t be afraid to say their piece. And we needed to phrase our questions differently – not just ask the usual what-do-you-think questions, but in ways that would draw answers from our sources.

I wouldn’t say we went after our sources like detectives pursuing suspects, but it did sometimes feel that way.  We latched on to every potential source suggested to us. And by Day Two we were getting results.

On Day Three, we saw Vinney himself. He was grabbing a hot drink from the coffee shop in Poole House. I wanted to go for him there, fire a couple of questions – but civilian timidity stopped me. Perhaps I should have approached him. The worst he could have said to me was ‘No comment’ – and that, I had heard before.

By the end of Day Four, Dave and I had spoken to 42 people on Talbot campus between us, and 19 from the Lansdowne. Further, we approached 11 on email, nine on phone and 20 on Facebook. People did talk to us about Vinney, some on record, most off-the-record, but there were a lot more who didn’t want to.

In the end we managed to piece together a decent profile of Vinney. Four days did not transform us into Woodward and Bernstein, but we certainly cut our journalistic teeth. We learnt the basics of tackling a difficult story.

The Vinney profile: Why BU opted for a ‘quiet’ man

Did I say difficult story? Perhaps it is my inexperience, but I do wonder why this became a difficult story. At the end of the day, we were asking for responses, opinions about an appointment – not state secrets. We were approaching an ‘educated elite’, people who are involved in teaching us the fundamentals of debate and freedom of speech. But roughly 70% of the people weren’t comfortable expressing their opinion. Was it a question of media mistrust? Disengagement with university politics? Timidity? Fear of the boss? Perhaps that is the real story.

Wherein Bournemouth University graduate and Citizens Advice Bureau volunteer Anne Dulieu tackles questions of employment and leave. If you have a question for her, email

Dear Anne, my partner is due to have a baby very soon. Am I entitled to any time off work? Will I get paid?

You may be able to take up to two weeks’ paid paternity leave. But it is not straightforward. First you must have worked in the same job for at least six months. Second, you need to have been employed for this period 15 weeks before the expected week the baby is due.

If your baby is due on or after April 3, 2011 and your partner doesn’t take all of her maternity leave, you may be able to take paternity leave for the rest of the time she’s entitled to.

You may also have the right to 13 weeks’ unpaid parental leave if you have worked for your employer for over one year. Parental leave has to be taken before your child is five years old. The rules are different if your child has a disability — you have the right to 18 weeks’ unpaid parental leave which has to be taken before the child is 18. Both parents are entitled to this leave — mothers and fathers.

If your partner returns to work, she will have access to the same rights to parental leave in addition to whatever maternity leave she may be due.

These rules apply even if you aren’t married to the baby’s mother and also if you are the civil partner of the baby’s mother.

Some employers give extra paid leave for the birth of a new child so you should check your contract of employment.

Like many students I supplement my income by working. I am under a lot of stress at work. Does my employer have to do anything about this?

Your employer has a legal duty to look after your mental welfare, as well as your physical health. However, your employer would usually be entitled to assume that you can cope with the normal day-to-day pressures of your job.

If, for any reason, you feel that you are becoming stressed about your work, perhaps because there has been an increase in your workload, it is very important that you tell your employer. This will give them an opportunity to do something about it. It is particularly important to do this if you need to take sick leave because of stress.

If your employer does not do enough to reduce the stress you are under at work, you may have the right to take legal action against them. For example, if you suffer a stress-related mental illness because of your work, you may be entitled to compensation from your employer.

You can find more information about stress at work at www.workstress.net.

As a student I am working full-time during the summer break. Am I entitled to have the bank holiday off work?

You are entitled to a minimum of 5.6 weeks’ holiday a year. This is called statutory holiday. To work out how many days holiday you can take a year, you need to multiply 5.6 by the number of days you work in a week.

However, you do not have an automatic right to take bank or public holidays off work, with or without pay. This will depend on your employment contract.

Your contact may say that you have the right to statutory holidays or it may not say anything about contractual holidays or statutory holidays. In these cases, your employer can:

• ask you to work bank or public holidays, or
• give you bank and public holidays off without paying you for them. In this case, you won’t lose your right to take your full statutory holiday at some other point, or
• give you bank and public holidays off and pay you for them but ask you to count them towards your statutory holiday entitlement, or
• do a combination of all of these.

Example: if you work five days a week, you are entitled to 28 days’ statutory paid holiday a year (5.6 weeks x 5 days). If you are expected to take bank and public holidays off, and you are paid for them, these days will be deducted from your 28 days. In England and Wales, there are eight bank and public holidays so this will leave you 20 days which you can choose when to take.

Your employment contract may give you bank or public holidays off on top of your statutory holiday. If this is the case, your contract will specify this and also say whether you will be paid for these days. The situation can be complicated if your contract says nothing about bank and public holidays.

Example: your employment contract says you are entitled to 35 days a year paid holiday. This is more than your statutory holiday. Your employment contract says nothing about bank and public holidays. You will be entitled to 7 days off over and above your statutory entitlement. Your employer may pay you for bank and public holidays as part of this extra entitlement or they may ask you to work bank and public holidays and take the extra 7 days at other times.

Got a query for Anne? Email standfirstadvice@gmail.com

THIS

I will be the first to acknowledge that this dish looks suspiciously like the French toast, but it has a twist to it — and trust me, that makes a world of difference. But before we launch into it, here are some facts that will make this more enjoyable.

Breakfast facts

A study carried out at the University of Cardiff suggests that those who eat breakfast are less likely to suffer from colds and flu. But up to 33% of UK residents regularly miss out on breakfast; 40% spend less than 10 minutes preparing and eating breakfast during the week.

Studies carried out at the University of Bristol examined the breakfast habits of 126 volunteers between the ages of 20 and 79. It found that those who ate breakfast every day were less depressed, less emotionally distressed, and had lower perceived levels of stress compared with those who skipped the meal .

Egg facts

Egg contains all the essential protein, minerals and vitamins, except Vitamin C. But egg yolk is one of the few foods that naturally contains Vitamin D.

There are approx 77 calories in an average-sized cooked egg.

Eggs also contain choline, which stimulates brain development and function and helps in preserving memory.

EGGY BREAD

Ingredients

4 eggs

2 slices of bread

A knob of butter

50ml double cream

Ground cinnamon (optional)

Salt and pepper

Method

1. Add butter to the frying pan, heat the pan.

2. Beat the eggs well in a bowl

3. Add the double cream and cinnamon and whisk

4. Soak the bread in the beaten eggs for about a minute (both sides!)

5. Put the egged bread in the frying pan. Fry one side for one minute, then turn over and fry the other side for another minute.

6. Serve, enjoy.

BANANA BREAKFAST SMOOTHIE

Ingredients

1 banana

Milk

A handful of Muesli or Granola

A dollop of chocolate spread

Method

Very simple: blend all ingredients in a blender, pour into a glass and enjoy.

The great thing about a smoothie is you make the rules. Don’t be afraid to experiment with fruit and honey.

Do you have a recipe you wish to share on STANDF1RST? Contact medward46@gmail.com

I HELD the steak knife to the man’s throat, praying he wouldn’t call my bluff.

It was October, late night. The beach I was trying to sleep on was empty. I had only the clothes I wore and a thin car blanket. The man wanted to share my blanket. I wanted him to leave me alone.

The cold night air made me shiver. I really hoped he would not persist. I didn’t want to use the knife. After a few moments trying to stare me down, he left, issuing threats. I settled down in the crook of the promenade and one of the beach showers. I slept – eventually.

Having run out of floors, couches and armchairs, my options for bedding down were either with the addicts beneath the Bournemouth Pier or on my own, hidden away from the eyes of the police officers duty bound to move me on. A catalogue of difficulties had put me far beyond the point of no return with my mum, and my dad had thrown me out just weeks before. Going home just was not an option. So I chose to sleep in the open air – by one of the many showers that line the beach.

Bournemouth, with its population of 163,900, is home to a large number of  The Big Issue sellers, beggars and buskers. I have been all of those since the evening I left home.

August 17, 1997 was a Sunday. The argument with my mum was a long time coming. During the exchange, I punched the wall. Much later, when the shock of walking out subsided and pain kicked in, I realised I had fractured a bone in my wrist. I couldn’t go to the hospital; I was sure they would call my parents.

I knew someone who had an open house. I crashed there for the first few nights, with 20 or so others. For my arm I fashioned a sling out of a couple of tea towels, and the host gave me some painkillers. Later, someone lent me a sports bandage.

The following Wednesday I returned home. I told my mother I wouldn’t be back again. She didn’t say much. It would take me years to understand her silence that day. Letting me go was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done. I didn’t know that then. I was 17.

I gave in my key and packed a few things. I remember choosing a pair of boots I thought would be durable. That was too true. My feet soon became blistered and cut from the unrelenting leather. I also took my guitar; it wasn’t illegal to busk for money back then.

The first few weeks, I had somewhere to stay. My friend Joe’s parents were in France. While there, I studied for my A-level retakes. I decided if I passed, I would go home and face my mum; if I didn’t, I would stay on the street and face the consequences of squandering all I had been given.

When Joe’s parents returned, I began doing the ‘floor circuit’. One night I slept in a caravan in a friend’s backyard; another, at an ex’s house.

I looked a state by this time. Soon, doors began to close on me. When I had nowhere to go, I went to the cemetery in Charminster, where my friends and I used to get together and drink. I slept on a bench there.

I failed my A-level retakes. My path was set — I couldn’t return home now.

One night Joe said he could sneak me into his house, but his parents woke up when we got in. An argument ensued in which the expected happened: they kicked me out. Joe did something unexpected then, for which I am still grateful. He got two roll mats and sleeping bags and came with me and my guitar to sleep rough. We slept at the playing field of Glenmoor School, near Bournemouth University. In the morning the ground was soaked with dew and I was stiff and cold. Joe stayed with me till it was time for me to go down to the Square and busk up some money.

It is a funny feeling being homeless in your hometown. You see things in a new way, notice people and places you hadn’t. Before, the back alleys were where they kept the bins – but when you are homeless, they are potential places to sleep. Shop fronts to most people are an ‘outside’ thing; to me, suddenly they became ‘inside’. After a couple of months, the streets in the town centre became my home. Being ‘inside’ became the strange thing.

Busking worked out poorly, though. By mid-October three of my guitar strings had snapped from the cold. I remember feeling very hard done by those strings.

Hunger is a powerful force, more powerful than pride.
On the fourth day, I sat in a subway, hat on the floor, asking for spare change.

Getting a job at 17 with no address, no clean clothes, no previous employment, and no ID proved impossible. I did try, but the employment agencies I approached kept turning me away from office jobs. With my wrist still healing, I couldn’t do any manual work either. Maybe I could have gone home with my head down at this point, but aside from the teenage conviction that my parents and I were irreconcilably at odds, I was stubborn. I had gotten myself into this mess; I would see myself through.

Reluctantly, I began begging.

Not on the first day without a guitar, not on the second, not on the third. But hunger is a powerful force, more powerful than pride. On the fourth day, I sat in a subway, hat on the floor, asking for spare change.

I had heard of soup kitchens before, though I had never considered going there. Now they became my sustenance. Sometimes it was just soup, other times beans on toast. One of the ladies serving at the St Paul’s church was the mother of a school friend. Having to explain myself to her was an anguishing experience I would never want to repeat.

The soup kitchens were once a day, most days. They didn’t provide breakfast or lunch. Sugar sachets stolen from cafes helped stave off hunger, but after a while they gave me stomach cramps. To make matters worse, I made virtually nothing begging, despite the long, shaming hours I put into it. The public do not like giving money to lone girls – they think you are faking.

After days of sitting cross-legged in filthy clothes in a subway, hungry and emotionally drained, I had a break. Someone I had met the previous summer, in happier times, walked up to me.

Welsh Mac – that was how I knew him – asked me what I was doing. I explained. He said he wasn’t having that.

He took me to his place, made me a cup of tea, and said he was going to set me up selling the Big Issue. He gave me a few copies and sent me to an unused pitch in Westbourne Arcade. He also told me I was going to be sleeping on his couch.

Big Issue sellers must be homeless or vulnerably accommodated, and you don’t get much more vulnerable than a dodgy bedsit in Norwich Road West. Mac had one room with a bed, a decrepit, olive green couch, an armchair and a TV.

Selling the Issue is hard work. Anyone who thinks it is easy — standing on the high street and getting abuse shouted at you all day — hasn’t tried it. I got a pitch of my own in Boscombe and bought my first 10 Issues with the money earned from Mac’s copies.

In the mornings I used to go straight to the Big Issue office, located then behind St Michael’s church. You could get a cup of tea for 20p there. Back then, you would get one Issue for 35p, which you sold for 80p. Often customers would let you have the 20p change.

I stayed at Mac’s for three weeks. He never tried to take advantage of my situation and I have not met such a genuine gentleman in my life before or since.

When Mac’s landlord complained about my staying there, he introduced me to Pat. Pat was a thin, soft-spoken 19-year-old, with short blond dreadlocks and blue eyes. When I met him he had given up heroin long enough to be over the insane cravings.

Pat also sold the Big Issue. Mac said he trusted us both and we needed to trust each other as we were about to start squatting together. I had misgivings about the situation. Squatting with an ex-smack addict who I had just met? But beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.

The squat was in Norwich Road East, just up from the Triangle. It had been a squat house for more than three years and did not have a single window intact. The room on the ground floor was awash with needles and debris. The front door had no lock. The stairs and roof were falling through. Upstairs there was a room, one of its walls blackened by a fire. It was vaguely habitable, with a reclining chair and two mattresses. The house had no electricity and felt perennially damp.

I stayed there for two weeks with Pat, lighting my way around with candles. One of Mac’s neighbours had given me a thick, itchy cream-coloured blanket before I left. It proved invaluable.

The squat was making me ill and I wanted to move out somehow. I went with Pat to youth advice centres, trying to find a room, but we couldn’t get the money needed for a deposit. Luckily, a chance meeting with a friend provided an alternative — the chance to live with Jo and Jay, in their bedsit. Staying with them also was Ricky, an Irish traveller, and his girlfriend Louise, who I knew from school days, and their dog Leppy.  Ricky was on the street because he liked it; Louise was there because she was with Ricky. It was a squeeze, but for a few weeks it was home. Pat also found somewhere else to stay. We never went back to the squat.

Ricky and Louise soon got their own bedsit in Tregonwell Road, in the town centre. I went to stay with them for a while. Though things weren’t overly spacious there either, it gave me enough time to scrape together £50, the sum needed for a deposit. I had made peace with my mum by now, but we both knew I wasn’t coming home.

Another asked me if I would like anything for Christmas.
‘Thick socks,’ I said. I got them that Christmas Eve.

In late November, I managed to get my own bedsit in Grosvenor Gardens, Boscombe. I started having three regular meals a day: a bowl of icing sugar for breakfast, an egg mayonnaise sandwich for lunch, and tuna, pasta and tinned tomatoes for dinner. Monotonous and not particularly nourishing, but it was cheap.

And I kept selling the Issue. I had ‘regulars’. One smartly dressed lady in her 50s would come by a couple of times a week and buy me a sandwich. Another, a pensioner, asked me if I would like anything for Christmas. Thick socks, I said. I got them that Christmas Eve.

At Christmas people were quite generous to Issue sellers. I got a couple of £5 tips and an off-duty policeman bought me a McDonald’s meal. And I managed to save some money. I sold 20 Issues a day, spent £7 buying 20 more, which left me with £13 for food and bus fare. With the money I saved I bought boots that didn’t leak and a warm coat. Things were looking up.

I lived in bedsits for the next couple of years. During that time, I made tentative peace with my father.

In June 1999 I asked him if I could stay at his house for a month. I was between bedsits and wanted a quiet place. I had enrolled in the Poole College to study psychology. I wanted my education. I wanted the piece of paper that validated my capability and this time I was going to get it.

At the end of the month I was packed and prepared to return to the streets, but my father asked me to stay. Our relationship got steadily better.

In the course of the next five years, I got a job at a cleaning company, then in a clothes shop. I became the stockroom assistant there, the stockroom manager, then out-of-hours supervisor, supervisor, and finally acting deputy. I passed my A-level psychology. In 2001 I moved out of my father’s house and into a flat with my friend Jo, who had long since parted from Jay.

I learnt a lot from the streets. Humility, for instance.
And understanding the difference between what you want and what you need.

I moved on from the clothes shop, but during my time there I studied with the Open University for two years. I was by now working at H&M, as a department manager, but I decided I wanted to go for the degree I was capable of.

Now that I am here at Bournemouth University, I don’t party as much as I would have done, had I made it here 10 years ago, on schedule. Having experienced what it is like to be out there, unqualified, I appreciate my education a lot more. Getting a degree, I realise, means potentially doing something I enjoy and getting paid for it — as opposed to just earning money to pay for things I enjoy.

Many people believe the homeless are lost causes. Perhaps that is true to an extent. A man named Zeb who I met on the streets had collapsed most of the veins in his body by injecting heroin and was resorting to his jugular. Zeb hasn’t been seen for years. I do not know what happened to him, but many others I have met are still begging.

I was on the streets for eight months, Jo for six, Mac for years between Bournemouth and Ebbw Vale, Wales. I built a career in retail before coming to university. Jo has been a happy employee of the Post Office for nine years now, and Welsh Mac is now the manager of a fishing shop. Pat too, the last I saw him, had a job. There are success stories from the streets.

I look on my homeless days as an invaluable experience. I believe it was the right decision for me at that time. I learnt a lot from the streets. Humility, for instance. And understanding the difference between what you want and what you need. I feel I am a much better person for it. I have seen tragedy on the streets, but it doesn’t have to be that way.

Geo Willis has finished her second year on the BA (Hons) Communication & Media degree. Based on her involvement with the course and her all-round academic performance, she has been recommended for the Ede and Ravenscroft prize for the best intermediate student. Geo is contactable through her Twitter or at geo.standfirst@gmail.com

Illustration: Safa Tharib

The Poole Literary Festival, which offers the innovative New Media Writing Prize, is looking for involvement from BU students. Geo Willis and Martin Edward report.

“WE can’t really hand it over covered in fingerprints,” says Sue Luminati of the brand new Apple iPad.  The founder and director of Poole Literary Festival has resisted the urge to open the box and have a look at what the winner of the New Media Writing Prize has in store — along with a tidy £250.

But wait, what is the New Media Writing Prize all about?

This is the first new media writing competition to be held in UK, and requires entrants to compose an interactive narrative or poem.

The competition is part of the Poole Literary Festival, scheduled from October 29 to 31, which has Bournemouth Univeristy as one of its partners.

Entries can contain film, images or animation, or all. The interactive element can involve the readers choosing which characters or parts of a story they wish to follow, or there could be a game element— the idea is to be as inventive as possible .

The stipulations are that the work must be specifically created for delivery on new media — PCs, Macs, DVD/CD ROM, the internet or mobile phones— and there must also be an element of interactivity for the audience.

The winner will receive £250 and an Apple iPad.

The last day for entry is September 15 2010

The festival offers a chance to meet leading authors such as poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy, and attend discussions, workshops and storytellings. Luminati says the event would delve into “the future of what can happen to the written word” in the digital age.

The festival is a good opportunity for writers to meet publishers. “This competition raises awareness of the creative potential inherent in digital media,” says Luminati.

Shortlisted candidates will also have the opportunity to showcase their work online and at the festival venue.

BU lecturer Dr James Pope, who has been involved in developing the prize, is one of the judges. He will run a workshop at the festival on writing for the new media.

The winner will be announced at a special awards ceremony to be staged at the Lighthouse in Poole on Sunday, October 31, 2010.

Considering the degree of interaction between BU and PLF (besides Dr Pope, involved also are Stephen Jukes, Dean of Media School, and lecturers Dr Julia Round and Trevor Hearing), Luminati said she was disappointed at the lack of response from BU students.

“It is vital to have a student presence,” she said. “This is a great opportunity for students to have a voice.”

Besides entering the competition, there are others ways in which students could be involved.  Luminati said she would welcome volunteers to help out at the festival . In return for your enthusiasm and commitment the organisers will try to schedule shift times so that you can enjoy the events you would most like to see.

If you are interested in becoming a volunteer, please contact the festival administrator, caroline@poolefest.com.

IT’S only the beginning of August, but it seems autumn is fast approaching. But thankfully there’s a trend this summer that can not only be carried from daywear to evening, but into the next season as well. Denim and even double denim (an unthinkable prospect a couple of years ago) have stormed the catwalks the last couple of months – so guys, here it is.

A pale blue denim shirt is the staple item this season if you are a fashion conscious guy. Wear buttoned by itself or open over a white vest and you’ve bagged yourself the coolest look this summer.

Pale denim makes good daywear because it gives a casual, laidback look. If you aren’t brave enough to go double denim, a golden beige colour will compliment bleached denim. Try Topman’s Bleach Wash Denim Shirt (£30) with their Stone Cotton Carrot Chinos (£36) for a chilled-out look. If you find yourself feeling like a kid again, toughen the look up with a neck chain or cuff that suits your current style.

If you aren’t a bracelet kind of boy, you can accessorise and add edge to the outfit by messing with your hair. In the pictures, Michael is sporting a Mark Ronson meets Morrissey quiff with his denim.

For hair and skin care products this season, check out www.themodernman.co.uk, an awesome website for male grooming products, set up by James Crowson, our very own Bournemouth business graduate.

As evening clothes often call for a touch more sophistication than daytime wear, darker denim is a good plan. Washed-out black denim gives an edge to the look and makes it more suitable for your evening wardrobe. Hang onto it for Autumn, too – as the days get darker, so should the clothes and there’s no harm in recycling from one season to the next while you wait for your loan to clear.

Don’t forget this isn’t the first time denim’s been in the fashion (as your parents could tell you). So team up with a quirky vintage item if you’re feeling up to it. An old worn-out belt or some vintage boots will make the look your own.

Photos: Holly Martin

Model: Michael Higham

WHEN

Once the undergraduates abandoned their posts, a younger breed has moved in, eager to experience BU studenthood in all its beach-blazed glory.

The Aimhigher programme — a venture which strives to widen participation in higher education by raising awareness — has brought in youngsters from across the South West of England as part of the  Aimhigher Summer School.

From July 6th and 9th, 31 Year 11 students thus became honorary BU students, experiencing ‘uni’ life.

“We want to ensure the pupils right across the South West are fully aware of the different high education opportunities available,” said Aimhigher Area Manager Stella Lees. “Our summer school programme plays a vital role in providing them with firsthand experience of university life, as well as giving them the chance to talk to staff and students to dispel any myths they may have heard regarding funding, accommodation and course options.”

Activities for the pupils included spending three nights away from home in university accommodation, conversing with current students, and observing the academic and social facilities on campus.

STANDF1RST watched the main foyer of Poole House and Student Union shop, otherwise near-empty during this time of the year, buzzing with activity as dozens of teenagers passed through.

More could be seen touring the Media School in Weymouth House, conversing with academic and administrative staff.

“What I found interesting was the teaching methods,” said one youngster. “At secondary school it’s like the teachers are more like teachers than mates, whereas here you can hang around with the teachers and just chat to them.”

After just having finished their GCSEs, these students are about to decide their next step – whether to continue with education or to pursue an alternative avenue. The question is this — has BU left a sufficient enough impression on the young minds?

“I want to go to uni,” said an attendee. “I want to get a degree in something that I would like to do and then go out and get a job.

“It would be a great experience living on your own and having to look after yourself.”

Lectures have been scheduled to take place on Mondays and Tuesdays at the Carrington House Hotel, among other venues. The majority of those affected will be first-year students.

Lectures will continue to take place at the hotel on Knyveton Road till the end of the year.

Kimmeridge House is expected to be ready for use in January.

Further, a number of parking spaces on Talbot campus will be unavailable. This is to ensure cranes and other building equipment are able to access the work site easily.

BU is trying to keep the disruption to the minimum. “There have been a few minor issues, but nothing you wouldn’t expect from such a large project,” said Stuart Laird, the university’s head of facilities management. “The general feedback has been positive.”

The extension will provide an additional 298 lecture seats, as well as three flexible seminar rooms. This would make Kimmeridge House the largest teaching space on Talbot campus.

Laird said the main issue would be loss of the Marconi lecture theatre, the university’s second largest lecture hall, which is situated in Kimmeridge House.

Leadbitter, the construction company in charge of the development, had worked on BU’s Lyme Regis hall of residence. The company is also building a spacious accommodation along Medeira Road, with 210 bedrooms, for the university.

Student Union vice-president (communications) Neneh Pepperell said the university and SUBU would ensure procedures were in place to ensure that teaching went on “as smoothly as possible”.

SOME TIME IN March, perhaps even earlier, Professor John Vinney must have begun to ask himself the question that many at Bournemouth University are asking now. What would his priorities be if he became VC? What change would he effect in the management structure to absorb the strains of the fast-paced transformation the institution has undergone? How could he remodel it to contain the stress many staff – the majority, according to the University and College Union; a minority, if you read into the statements from the BU management – feel?

Structure. Strain. Stress. Vinney is no stranger to those. He knows well the ways in which structures can impact on an institution, “an overall system”. All his working life, he has studied those, in one form or other. As a design engineer for warships and submarines, and later for the Airbus UK, he has dealt with structures; and at BU he was part of the executive body involved in refashioning academics, leading, as his web site profile puts it: ‘Aspects of the change programme’. So what can be expected from Vinney?

People who know the vice-chancellor-designate describe him as a “wise and discerning” man, “quiet and calm”, who has a proven track record and “a long-established association” with the institution he will now head. Indeed, Vinney studied at the Dorset Institute of Higher Education – the predecessor to BU. A mechanical engineering graduate from the University of West of England, Vinney had started his career in the shipping industry, as a special projects engineer. He switched to higher education in 1991, beginning as a lecturer at the Coventry University and moving to the UWE the next year. In 1998 he received a PhD in Engineering Design from the UWE, where he later served as the Associate Dean and Dean of the Faculty of Computing, Engineering and Mathematical Sciences. Since joining BU as a Professor of Computational Mechanics and Dean of the School of Design, Engineering & Computing in October 2006, Vinney appears to have created a largely favourable impression on some of his colleagues.

“He is approachable. A man who cuts through the fluff.”

“He is man who can offer calm assurance,” said Professor Jim Roach, who took over as Dean of DEC when Vinney became Pro-Vice-Chancellor in 2008. “I would expect John Vinney to be able to reassure staff and guide them through difficult times.”

“He is approachable,” said an administrator, one of Vinney’s supporters in DEC. “A man who cuts through the fluff.”

Goodwill notwithstanding, Vinney is also seen as a “bit of a politician” within his own school, “a man who holds his cards too close to his chest”. Further from home, in the Media School, the criticism is more scathing. Lecturer Mike Molesworth asked: “As the No 1 new university, why were we not able to attract more experienced candidates?” He added: “With our proud record of achievements over the last four years, VCs from all around the country should have been clamouring for the post and we have to wonder why they weren’t. It is disappointing that John Vinney, with no senior management experience at other institutions, was the best person we could get.”

Another lecturer, from the School of Health & Social Care, echoed a similar sentiment, saying she was “resigned” and “bitterly disappointed”. “We will be managed rather than led,” she said. “I’m surprised at the internal appointment.”

Such sentiments, it would appear, are founded on the belief, among some staff members, that Vinney’s appointment was ‘managed’. “It is a carefully stage-managed succession, not a real change,” said a lecturer, who requested anonymity. Contributing to this feeling is the UCU grievance that no trade union member was consulted. Branch Secretary-Elect John Brissenden described the selection process as lacking in transparency. “Neither of the recognised staff trade unions were invited to sit on the interview panel for this appointment last week, even though the Student Union, quite rightly, was represented,” he said.

Statements from University Board chairman Alan Frost had projected Vinney’s appointment as the outcome of a “rigorous” selection process that involved “over 80 staff, students and external partners”. Headhunting consultants Saxton Bampfylde were retained after Professor Paul Curran stepped down in March. The company researched some 70 candidates, before long-listing 15. Of this, four made the final cut, and were invited for a two-day selection process to the BU. The process – which involved presentations to a group of ‘by invitation only’ academics, students and administrative staff, and an interview by a seven-member panel – was akin to the assessment undertaken during the appointment of CEOs. It involved a series of psychometric testing for, among others, numeracy, literacy and leadership skills. Frost was later quoted as saying that one candidate had “performed at a consistently high level throughout the process”.

All of which could have been more an attempt at an eyewash than a wholehearted effort to find a new VC, according to a section of academics STANDF1RST spoke to. The argument from this school of thought goes thus: The University Board wanted a ‘safe’ candidate, someone who would carry on with what Curran began, someone already part of the senior management team. With Professor Nick Petford leaving, Vinney was the natural choice, as David Willey, Karen Everett and Jim Andrews – the other members of the University Executive Group  – were non-academics. Vinney also had the advantage of being an academic with industry experience – as he puts it elsewhere, “my career to date has been a mix of both industrial and academic experience”. This was something the management favoured – given the university’s stress on professional training, combined with its recent heavy investment to boost its academic profile.

(Read The Paul Curran Interview)

As additional evidence, an academic of this persuasion points to the sequence of appointments that followed Curran’s resignation: it was Pro-Vice-Chancellor David Willey who made Acting Vice-Chancellor, not Vinney, who was appointed Acting Deputy Vice-Chancellor. “That can be seen as an effort to ensure that the succession didn’t become too obvious,” he said. “Moving Vinney in as Willey’s second-in-command placed him right there on the scene, ready to move in – but in a less conspicuous manner.”

For his part, BU Human Resources Director Jim Andrews said he was surprised at the charge that the selection process was anything but rigorous, saying that the “feedback from both participants and candidates supports this”. In an emailed statement, he said: “The process we went through was thorough, rigorous and absolutely in line with best practice for a senior level appointment … short-listed candidates took part in four challenging sessions, meeting with and being grilled by over 80 individuals, including a cross section of staff, students and external partners. The feedback from these sessions was given to the interview panel who further explored each candidate’s suitability for the role.”

“I don’t think things will change greatly.”

It’s perhaps this hint of mistrust around the VC appointment that prompts some members of the staff to believe that the Vinney era will not be too different strategically from that of Curran. The outgoing VC and the University Board have clearly indicated that there will be no u-turns, so Vinney will need to work – at least in the short-term – within the parameters set by Curran’s plan.

Vinney’s successor in DEC Professor Jim Roach said: “I don’t think things will change greatly.” But he sees much potential for Vinney to make a positive contribution, particularly with broader staff involvement. Roach added: “Bournemouth University is a broad church and by acknowledging a wide spectrum of individual strengths he can boost morale.”

Roach sees the major challenge facing the new VC is maintaining: “Our present upward trajectory in difficult times.”

Despite his disappointment at the selection process, UCU Branch Secretary-Elect Brissenden appeared happy about the change of regime. He said Vinney had earlier responded positively to suggestions of working towards a more constructive relationship with BU staff. “John Vinney’s responsibility, and opportunity, is to show through his actions how he intends to repair the damage of the Curran years,” Brissenden said.

Media School Associate Dean Fiona Cownie was similarly positive. “I have some confidence in his ability to increase the staff’s perception of their value,” she said.

The appointment, it is also hoped, would bring about a richer student experience. Student Union President Toby Horner said he was sure Vinney would have “the student experience as a priority” and was “looking forward to him taking up his post in September”. Horner’s predecessor James Ricci, who has worked with Vinney, described him as a “brilliant man, very motivated”.

DEC Learning and Teaching Officer Chris Keenan also spoke about the need to enrich student experience. “I hope he [Vinney] finds the opportunity to hear the student voice when considering issues that will affect their student experience and education.”

Judging by a straw poll conducted by STANDF1RST, the average student is unaware of the changes at the top. “Who’s Vinney?” was the standard response. The new “quiet and calm” VC already has some obvious “fluff” to start cutting through.

Editor’s note:
Over four days, STANDF1RST reporters Martin Edward and David Wheeler approached 42 sources on the Talbot campus and 19 on Lansdowne for this story. Twenty-one of those approached were happy to share their thoughts on- or off-the-record. In addition, comments from seven email, three phone and three Facebook respondents were utilised.

Illustration: Safa Tharib

Wherein Bournemouth University graduate and

I am going to university soon and I want to take my television with me. Do I need a separate licence?

Most students will need a television licence. There are a few exceptions. For example, if the TV set cannot receive TV programmes and you are only using it as a computer monitor. However, students in halls of residence will nearly always need their own TV licence.

If you are living in a house with other people, you will only need one licence if you all live as one household – that is, share bills and kitchen and other facilities. If your house is divided into bedsits or flats with their own facilities, then each unit will need its own TV licence.

Dear Anne, I will be living in Bournemouth for the remaining two years of my course. How can I find an NHS dentist?

Many people have difficulty in finding a dentist who provides NHS treatment. You first need to find which dentists in your area provide NHS treatment – then find one who is prepared to accept you as a patient.

Some dentists do not provide NHS treatment, or only provide it to certain groups of people – for example children, or people getting benefits or tax credits.

Not all dentists who provide NHS treatment have to take you on. If they are unable to  do this, they should tell you to go to another dentist.

You don’t have to register with a dentist in order to get NHS treatment, but your dentist may keep a list of regular patients and provide ongoing treatment and care.

Under certain circumstances, your dentist may discontinue a course of treatment. This could happen, for example, if you don’t cooperate with treatment, or if you fail to turn up for lots of appointments. Where violence, or the threat of violence occurs, your dentist could discontinue treatment straight away – without any advance warning.

To find a list of dentists that do NHS work in your area: in England, phone NHS Direct on 0845 4647, or look on their website at www.nhsdirect.nhs.uk

I travel by train to BU several times a week. If my train is late, can I get compensation?

You might be able to get compensation, but only if your train journey is delayed because of something that’s within the control of the train company. This could include delays because of engineering works, but not because of exceptionally severe weather conditions.

If you’re entitled to compensation, the company must offer you a full refund – if you can’t travel at all because the train you were intending to go on was delayed. If you can travel, but the train arrives more than one hour late, you can get a voucher worth at least 20 per cent of the ticket value – if you bought a single ticket. If you bought a return ticket, you can claim a voucher worth at least 10 per cent of the price paid. If you have a season ticket, different refunds apply. These depend on the train company. These are the minimum levels of compensation – with some companies, you can get more.

You must request compensation as it isn’t given automatically. You can claim your refund on the spot, or by writing to the customer services section of the train company. You can get details from the ticket collector on your train, or from the station where you bought your ticket. You have to claim within 28 days. You’ll need the ticket or a photocopy of the ticket as evidence if you want to  make a claim.

If you’re offered a voucher as compensation, but you want a cash refund, you should ask for this – although the company doesn’t have to give you cash. A voucher is valid for one year, from the date of issue, and can be exchanged for a ticket for a journey on any railway service. Claims for additional expenses, like overnight stays, can be considered in very exceptional circumstances.

You may also be able to claim a refund of a taxi fare if you’re stranded at a station because of a delayed train. However, the train company may not pay this unless you told the duty manager at the station that you were going to have to take a taxi and they couldn’t get you to your destination by any other means.

If you aren’t happy with the way a train company deals with your claim for compensation, you can take your complaint to Passenger Focus at www.passengerfocus.org.uk (tel: 0300 123 2350). In London, you can contact London TravelWatch at www.londontravelwatch.org.uk (tel: 020 7505 9000).

Got a query for Anne? Email standfirstadvice@gmail.com