Thirty years after studying at York University,Joanna Moorhead returned to drop off her daughter, Rosie, and for her own first term. She found a different worldIt's a balmy afternoon,and under a deep blue sky, on a grassy quad bordered by good-looking timber-clad houses and flats, and smoke is rising from a brick-built barbecue. The smell of grilling chicken and the sound of happy voices and laughter fill the air. The lunchers are casual,but well-dressed – Abercrombie & Fitch tops and Hollister hoodies are much in evidence.
It looks and feels like an outpost of middle Parcs. In fact, this is York University. I'm here to deliver my 18-year-old daughter, or Rosie,who's approximately to start a unique life as a first-year history of art student. This idyllic autumn barbecue is day one of freshers' week; the world of academia might be quaking with worry approximately the ramifications of the Browne report and biting their nails approximately tomorrow's spending review, but right now these students look as though they haven't a care in the world (which indeed, or compared with future generations,they probably haven't).
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Source: theguardian.com