3 Heads Agency is a family-run video production and social media agency.

On working with established names such as Chelsea FC, Champneys and Lego, Ross is “proud of the work we deliver, the clients we work with, and where we’re going”, and says what continues to motivate him is the team that comes in everyday.

Ross Testa is the Founder of 3 Heads. The name of the business reflects the family and their Italian culture. Their origins are in Italy, and there are three members of the Testa family who are a part of the company - Roy, Jodie, and Ross. Jodie is Ross’s sister, and Roy is their dad. Their surname, when translated into English, means ‘Head’, creating 3 Heads Agency.

Ross says: “there is a lot of respect between my sister and my dad, just like any other business partnership.” Family is an integral part of Italian culture. “You get to answers quicker because families are direct and honest. They will tell you when something could be done better. I feel very lucky to have that, and there is a lot of mutual respect.” When talking about Roy, who is managing director, Ross says “he brings huge value to the team and the dynamic of the business”, and is a “great asset”.

Whilst starting up the business, Ross was balancing with university and a full time job. When reflecting on his journey, he said: “we started at a time when social media was really taking off. Back then it was Facebook, Instagram and Twitter, and Instagram didn’t even have video yet. What we discovered was the huge demand for content, especially video.”

“Companies were struggling to produce high volumes of video for social media and websites, so we positioned ourselves as the partner to do that.” Looking at social media platforms now, there are apps such as TikTok that have taken over, and you can see that 3 Heads have moved with the times.

The business stays in touch with evolving trends and landscapes “through industry events, training, and relationships with the platforms themselves.” Additionally, “spending time with platforms like Facebook, TikTok, Instagram and LinkedIn helps us understand what’s coming.” They stay at the forefront of video production through ongoing industry training.

An example of a case study success story taken from the 3 Heads Agency website, is Bebeto. Bebeto is a popular Turkish sweet brand. Their aim was to grow brand awareness in support of the first UK store launch. In a year, 3 Heads Agency had grown the TikTok from 0 to 43,300 followers and reached over three million people with the content they produced.

In addition to video production and social media, the business also offers other services such as podcast production, live streaming, and personal branding.

3 Heads have worked on personal branding for clients such as Touker Suleyman (Dragon on Dragons’ Den), David Haye (Former World Heavyweight Boxing Champion) and Charlie Sloth (DJ and TV presenter).

Robin Deller, Founder and CEO of Imagine Cruising has previously said, “the quality of the product from any video agency is obviously vital to us. You’ll clearly see and very quickly see from the interaction we have with 3 Heads Agency that they take extensive personal pride in all the work that they deliver.” “That need for them to deliver you with the most amazing outcome is definitely something that they strive for every single time and we find that makes a significant impact on the final results that we see.” Imagine Cruising have found over time that customers want to know more about the holiday they are going to travel on, before they go ahead with the booking.

“If you’re serious about getting great results from your video content I cannot recommend 3 Heads Agency enough.” A fine example of a happy client, and work that 3 Heads have delivered on.

There was a campaign with Simba Sleep that Ross’s other family members took part in. “My niece and older sister were involved, and we’re a very close family. Seeing my niece involved in that campaign made me really proud.” This shows just how much Italian culture revolves around family and the importance that is placed on it.

Combining business and family have created an incredible force. “We’re partners to some of the biggest brands in the UK, including Lego, TUI, and others.” Supported by their clients’ testimonials, this is a testament to the repertoire that 3 Heads Agency have built.

Ross says: “I’m most proud of the fact that I genuinely love going to work every day. It doesn’t feel like work, and my team says the same.”

Oil prices are influenced by global supply and demand, political tensions, and economic instability. Recently, increasing tensions around key shipping routes like the Strait of Hormuz – one of the world’s most important oil transport channels – has increased concerns about supply distribution.

Around 20% of the world’s oil and liquified natural gas (LNG) tends to pass through the strait, but due to recent hostilities, the amount of ships transporting has dramatically declined. This has sent shock waves across the global economy and caused fuel prices to soar.

Decisions made by major oil producing countries, including those in OPEC (The Organisation of Petroleum Exporting Countries), mean that when supply is threatened or reduced, prices increase.

Donald Trump recently told the UK, ‘Drill baby, drill!’ meaning that he wants Britain to increase their oil drilling in the North Sea in order to boost oil supply and lower energy prices. In theory, this would eventually work – drill more oil, increase the supply, and therefore prices decrease.

But there is a big catch. In reality, this would take a really long time. According to the Energy Climate and Intelligence Unit (ECIU), most of UK oil is already depleted, and around 93% of North Sea oil has already been extracted, meaning that though new drilling would increase supply, it would not have a significant immediate impact.

Oil prices are also set globally, not just in the UK. So even if the UK did drill more, prices would not fall soon, and the UK would still depend on global markets.

When people think about oil prices, they often think about petrol costs. But oil influences far more than just driving. Flights, food and production, heating, and electricity prices are all impacted.

When oil prices rise, businesses often pass on higher costs to consumers, meaning that students may see higher prices across multiple areas of their lives. Students will experience higher utility costs in shared accommodation, increased food prices, more expensive bus and train fares, and expensive flights.

For international students flying to and from home, higher flight prices have practical and financial impacts – especially for those travelling long distances. The sparsity of fuel means that many long-haul flights are more expensive and some even cancelled.

This means that students may have to take fewer trips home, plan travel much earlier, or stay longer during the holidays to reduce costs.

Rising oil prices affecting inflation – the general increase in prices across the economy – means that interest rates may also stay higher for longer, affecting borrowing and the wider job market.

This may shape economic conditions for students entering the workforce in coming years as companies cut back on spending, influencing fewer hiring positions, and reducing the amount of pay raises. If graduates do achieve job positions, salaries may be lower than expected.

Looking ahead, oil prices may fluctuate as markets can change quickly. However, current global volatility may continue in the near future. For students, this highlights the importance of budgeting, planning ahead, and staying aware of economic trends.

How do you connect in a world with one half embracing AI, and the other half doing a digital detox? With conflict raging in one part of the world, there is an expected side effect of avoiding news. How do you connect with your hobbies, your heritage, and your loved ones in this deteriorating world?

Our feature articles will transport you from South Asian creativity to the Australian mountains. They will also delve into the challenges of giving up smart phones for a week, and how to beat loneliness in university.

Our writers will take you on a temporary escape and disconnect!

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There is a growing epidemic of loneliness worldwide with recent reports from the World Health Organization (WHO) highlighting the severe health risks associated with human disconnection. We looked at this dilemma closer, a dilemma in which you might find yourself right now.

You’re reading this on a screen. You’re talking to your friends through a screen. We can access the whole world through our screens, and connect with anyone around the globe.

And yet, young people are feeling lonely. “I knew lots of people, but I didn’t feel close to anyone,” is what an international student from India told Cassandra San Carlos for our lead story:

But being alone doesn’t necessarily mean being lonely. Increasingly, some travellers are deciding to go solo. And thus, solo travelling has developed into a business for influencers, as Anna Savage explores:

No matter where you travel, people are not only struggling to connect with each other but also with our mother nature. Our writer Jon Miller tried to reconnect to the wild:

Human Connection goes so much further than our daily interactions, it touches all areas of our lives. Caitlin Tkach considers how women are navigating the arts as an area of Balancing Gender Inequality.

Fran Seabrook talks about how fangirls feel like it’s an act of rebellion to find belonging through a mobile when many claim it takes away from human connection.

Sungmin Ahn shows us how it’s ok to fall in front of others and keep persisting. Further afield we see how Japanese cinema is received in the West and creating connection between cultures.

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But looking away is a temporary fix. Palpable change comes from facing and tackling the issues of our world head on.

Check out Hybrid’s writers doing exactly that in the features below…

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I’ve always found that my culture informed a lot of my creative decisions. Walking the streets of Southall and letting my hand sift through all the colourful and intricately embroidered sarees allowed thoughts of creating my own clothes to blossom in my mind. Hazy memories of my Ba (Grandma) at her sewing machine, the kind they don’t make anymore, sewing saree blouses for her customers.

This connection to clothing and the physical act of making clothes connects me to the many other women, in the generations before me, who also sat on their floor handstitching garments.

This is something that Palvinder Nagla, a textile artist, and I have in common, as his grandmother also introduced him to textiles.

Indian textiles remain imbued with a deep sense of history and cultural significance that dates back around 6,000 years. The vivid dyes, silks and cotton, and techniques that have been passed down through generations are still popular today.

“These fabrics that we put on our body… they have a story, and they’ve travelled and so have we”, Says Palvinder. A poetic way of putting it, I think, but I agree. The silks of Southall are light to the touch but symbolically hold the weight of thousands of years of printing and weaving techniques.

Exploring and learning about heritage

Palvinder talks fondly and enthusiastically about his art work, he refers to it as being reflective and self-healing and mentions several embroidery terms I’m left having to look up after our conversation.

When I ask him about how his heritage and culture have influenced his textile art, he mentions how he is still exploring what that term means and art “are kind of [his] own self-enquiry of [his] own heritage”

The idea of self-exploration is particularly interesting to me. As a third generation immigrant who has never been to India, my understanding of my culture is through the media I have consumed and through my family. Rather than having experienced it myself, I am relying on the input of other people’s thoughts and attitudes through a screen or through the filter of their memory. My version of my culture is formed through the. Perhaps I am still exploring my connection to my heritage, too.

Puravi, an Oxford University student, took centre stage at a creative showcase held by OxSaas (Oxford South Asian Arts Society) and performed the Indian Classical dance Odissi. She was dressed in green with bells on her ankles that chimed every time she moved.

“I’ve learnt so much about India from the languages (Odia and Sanskrit) to various temples and Hindu deities”, She mentioned. She takes great pride in her dancing and sees it as a tool of self-expression.

Art as Storytelling

Art in all its forms is a way to convey a message. To connect with whoever might see it, no matter where they see it from. Filmmaker, Shubh Garharwar said, “I was always told that filmmaking is inherently empathetic because you sit down and watch someone else’s life for one and a half to two hours”

His film The Lunchbox touches on his own experiences growing up as a British-Indian and reflects the universal feeling of not fitting in. He talks me through the process of writing the script, filming and other projects that are coming up.

“The way that the arts and creativity connected me to my culture was learning about other artists from the same culture as me”, he mentions filmmakers and painters and adds that he still relates to the same things that were filmed in the 60s.

Going beyond culture

While chatting to Shubh, he emphasised that while South Asian creatives can take from their culture and history, it does not need to be the main focus of every project.

He referenced the popular Netflix Show ‘One Day’ that stars Ambika Mod, whose character is completely separate from her South Asian identity.

While I love to draw from my culture, I recognise that sometimes the art we produce or are a part of does not necessarily need to be influenced by our culture and heritage. A person’s culture and identity are a huge part of them and often made up of many facets, including the different countries and people that we meet.

This sparked an interesting point about not only being known for or ‘typecast’ for creating or participating in art that is related to an individual’s culture, when it is such a vast and complex idea.

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‘What was that?’ I ask, spinning around, binoculars at the ready, expecting to spot whatever creature made that shrill cry.

‘That’s a tree,’ says Neil Bucknell, a lifelong birder who has spent most of his sixty-nine years honing the craft.

He nods toward the wind, which has set a pair of willow branches rubbing together. ‘That’s the problem when you’ve got weather like this.’

We continue along the muddy path. Our Wellingtons sink to mid-calf as we search for birds brave enough to face the winter storm.

‘That noise you hear is a redwing. And that’s a magpie,’ says Neil, reeling off identifications like a human Merlin app. ‘You’ll probably recognise magpies — I think that’s one both we and you get.’

‘Actually, we don’t have them,’ I say with certainty.

I later learn — via Google — that Magpies do inhabit my home country of Canada.

Whoops.

A recent University of Derby study found that Britain — where my father was born and where I’m currently based — and Canada — where I’ve lived most of my life — rank among the least nature-connected nations in the world.

How could this be?

I’d seen enough David Attenborough documentaries to know the UK isn’t exactly short on wildlife. The same goes for Canada, particularly British Columbia, where I’m from, with its towering pines and orcas peppering the coast.

Also, in both countries, I know plenty of people who spend time outdoors, whether running trails, cycling up mountains, or paddling in kayaks.

But instead of dismissing the findings outright, I decided to see just how connected to nature I am.

‘Sounds like a bunch of something,’ I say, trying to take the birdspotting burden off Neil.

I ask what the secret to recognising them is. He says it’s all about matching the bird to the sound — but our lesson is interrupted by a barbed-wire fence across our path.

We climb over it gingerly and carry on.

Eventually, we come across a redwing — by ‘we’ I mean Neil — perched high in a tree.

Like an eager student trying to impress a sommelier at a wine tasting workshop, I offer: ‘It’s almost like a chestnut brown,’ surprised by how little red there is in a bird named after the colour.

Perhaps in an attempt to build my confidence, Neil points to a group of birds settled in an open field.

‘You’ll probably recognise these boys,’ he says.

‘Canada geese!’ I cry, relieved to see a reminder of home — and to finally get something right.

Neil explains that Canada geese are an introduced species, so these are likely UK-born.

I’m thankful for the clarification. I was about to ask if this might be the very same flock I’d seen flying in a V formation back home, some 5,000 miles away.

Watching Neil move so effortlessly through the landscape, I couldn’t help wondering how our relationship with nature in this county has changed — and when we first began to appreciate it.

A little online digging seemed in order.

In 1889, Lancaster-born Emily Williamson was appalled by the slaughter of birds to feed a fashionable trend: feathers adorning hats, clothes, and accessories.

In response, she gathered a group of women to discuss how to stop the plumage trade and had them sign a pledge to ‘wear no feathers.’

That small meeting grew into what is now the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, while the pledge became the Importation of Plumage (Prohibition) Act, which banned the trade in exotic feathers.

Attitudes were also shifting elsewhere.

A decade after Williamson’s campaign began, British ornithologist Edmund Selous — who was then in the habit of shooting birds for study — had his own epiphany.

While observing what he first took to be a piece of tree bark, he realised it was a nightjar, perfectly camouflaged.

Astonished, he wrote in his journal:

‘Let anyone who has an eye and a brain (but especially the latter), lay down the gun and take up the glasses for a week, a day, even for an hour, if he is lucky, and he will never wish to change back again.’

‘So where would most of the birds be hanging out?’ I ask as the landscape grows eerily quiet.

Neil explains that most birds hunker down in vegetation when it’s cold and windy to avoid heat loss, though those in open country — like geese and ducks — don’t have that luxury.

‘I see them on really cold days,’ I reply. ‘They always look so miserable just hanging out on the water.’

Even so, if you lined up a row of mallards, I doubt I could tell the content from the unhappy.

‘I can hear another kingfisher,’ Neil says, picking out a faint, high-pitched call nearly lost beneath the rush of the river and the rain beginning to fall.

‘Really? You can hear it through the water?’ I ask.

‘Well, I might be nearly seventy,’ he says, laughing. ‘But I’ve still got my hearing.’

If my birdwatching debacle was any indication, the gap between me and the natural world was only growing.

At a loss, I turned to Miles Richardson, the University of Derby professor behind the nature connectedness study, to see where I was going wrong.

‘Being “in” nature can be passive,’ he says. ‘Nature as a backdrop while doing other things.’

Nature connectedness, on the other hand, is a measurable psychological relationship with the natural world.

‘So it’s possible to be connected to nature when you’re not in nature,’ he adds.

The good news? Getting started, Richardson says, is easy:

‘Simply taking a moment each day to note the good things in nature.’

‘We don’t want you being swept away,’ says Neil, guiding me along a stretch of towpath not yet swallowed by the rain-swollen river.

As we head back, the darkening sky drawing our day to a close, I take comfort in knowing that if I were to tumble into the Thames, he could relay my location to rescuers, distinguishing my distant hollers from the Canada geese squawking in the field beyond.

There is something counterintuitive about skateboarding. It asks you, again and again, to fail in full view of others, to fall awkwardly and visibly with no easy way to disguise it, and to persist where progress is slow, uncertain, and often painful. By most measures, it makes little sense to get on a piece of wood and go on a war against the g-force.

Yet, it endures, not just as a sport, but as a culture that takes shape in public, carrying traces of resistance to structure, authority, and the expectation of staying in designated places.

For Nicholas, an artist and coach within the Melanine Skate Gals and Pals(MSGP) community, the process itself is central. “Skateboarding is mostly failure. It’s about falling, getting back up, and trying again - over and over,” he says.

Once internalised, he adds, the logic extends beyond the board. “What I liked was the process: figuring things out, making micro-adjustments, reflecting on what you’re doing right or wrong. You can repeat something endlessly, but unless you reflect, you won’t improve. It forces you to think. It’s almost like a creative process.”

Where keeping your head down is culturally rewarded, skateboarding runs directly against that logic. It is less a matter of noise than exposure. To step onto the board is to accept being seen, even in failure.

“To skateboard, you have to take up space. You can’t shrink. You make noise. You fall. You get back up. In a world where people of colour are often told to blend in, especially in the UK culture of ‘keep calm and carry on,’ skateboarding forces you to be visible.” Says Marie-Ermelinda Mayassi, the founder of MSGP skate collective, known as ‘Maz’ within the community.

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MSGP began simply, with a Facebook post and a few informal meet-ups in London’s Olympic Park. At first, it was merely flat ground skating. No infrastructure nor formal structure. People showing up, trying, and staying.

Then it quickly became clear why it mattered. Many who came had never felt comfortable in traditional spaces. Not because they lacked spaces, but because they lacked a space within them.

“Skateboarding became a way to create joy and emancipation for black people and people of colour. It’s about play, creativity, and meeting others outside the 9-to-5. It challenges limiting beliefs and the everyday impact of racism. It builds solidarity,” says Maz.

Even though that purpose took shape, it went largely unrecognised. “For a long time, the wider skate scene didn’t fully recognise our work,” she adds.

Whereas, on the ground, something was already building up. “When National Geographic listed the Olympic Park among the top ten skate spots in the UK - even though it wasn’t technically a skate park, just flat ground we activated - it showed the power of community.”

“Later, working with partners, we helped build an actual skate space in Olympic Park. That gave us a safer, more permanent home. Adult beginners, especially, can feel exposed in traditional skate spaces. Having our own space changed that.”

As more people showed up, informal sessions turned into lessons. Those who stayed were encouraged to teach. After enough sessions, potential coaches were supported through formal Skateboard GB qualifications, creating pathways that hadn't been spotlighted before.

Over time, the community expanded beyond the sessions themselves. Workshops, creative projects, and paid opportunities began to take shape, often led by members of the group. What began as a gathering became more deliberate. Visibility turned into structure. And structure into opportunity.

“Since we started, we’ve worked with around 3,000 to 4,000 people. We’ve provided over 400 paid opportunities - coaching, DJing, creative roles - often hiring directly from our community.”

That presence now carries into other spaces. At 33 Manor Place, a free indoor skate space developed with Nike and Palace, weekly Sunday sessions continue, drawing in new skaters and first attempts.

What keeps them there is not simply access, but the process of the struggle itself. As Nick puts it, “Being unafraid to scrutinise yourself, to reflect deeply; that’s essential in both skating and art. Skateboarding taught me how to deal with failure. Nothing else feels as overwhelming. You understand that struggle is just part of the process of getting better.”

Skateboarding, today, is no longer confined to the margins. Olympic inclusion, global brands, and commercial growth have brought it into wider view. But not everyone has been brought into that visibility equally. The gap is not always explicit. It exists in who is seen, who is supported, and who is expected to belong. In that context, spaces like MSGP do more than create access. They shift the terms of visibility itself.

Meanwhile, the question of who gets to be seen extends beyond London. In other parts of the world, skateboarding continues to grow under different conditions. MSGP’s work across African countries reveals a landscape rich with talent and energy, yet less visible within the global conversation.

For Maz, the aim is not simply to diversify skateboarding but to shift awareness. By 2030, she hopes that skaters in the UK will know their counterparts in places like Senegal, Ghana, and South Africa. Not as distant scenes, but as part of the same culture.

Back on the concrete, the rhythm is familiar. A board slips forward. Someone hesitates, steps on anyway, then either falls or rolls away.

Here, to stay is to learn. To learn is to be seen.

Perhaps this is because the arts tends to be discussed as a softer and more feminine feild compared to other sectors, like business or science, that are often stereotyped as serious and a man’s domain.

Nonetheless the Making their Mark Forum, created by Komal Shah and Gaurav Garg, brought inequality facing women in the arts to the forefront.

The forum hosted a panelist of guests from an array of backgrounds. A mixture of CEOs, artists, journalists and academics all speaking on the inequality currently facing women - the consensus that the art world was still falling short on equity for women artists.

Shocking facts were discussed at the forum illustrating massive inequality in the rate of womens share of the art market. If it continues at the rate it is currently increasing, parity with men will not be reached until 2053. In terms of 21st centuary feminism, this seems outrageously arachiac.

Anecdotely, I asked Isobel Parry, third year Fine Arts student at Oxford Brookes’ University, about her exposure to female artists in her studies. She smiled and said, “Although our class is almost all girls, a lot of the artists we are taught about over the course are predominantly male.”

On The Current Landscape

As an attempt to understand the data behind this inequality, I spoke to one of the Making Their Mark panelists, and professor of finance at Oxford Univcersity, Dr. Renee Adams. Dr. Adams explores topics of gender inequality and stereotypes in both her work as an artist and as an academic.

In her art work, she investigates power structures that control our society. Dr. Adams jokes that she is the longest serving student at her school, Warehouse Art School, and that she ‘will probably never graduate.’

Last year, Dr. Adams’ end of year project looked at ‘men of action or men of inaction.’ She explained that to make this piece she placed small paper mache figurines of men infront of concave mirrors so they appear to themselves as being larger than they are in reality. Dr. Adams anecdotes this project by joking:

“So basically it was about the guys thinking that they’re much bigger than they actually are…so I was a bit worried that it was too obvious…but I just had to do it you know?”

Are these the power dynamics at play in the art world? I wondered. Systemic economic oppression of women, accumulating in men obtaining spending power in the art market and supporting male artists over females? I have seen reports by large art platforms, and messaging on social media that more women are entering the market and will attract a new wave of feminism and equality.

When I asked Dr. Adams about these trends that I perceived she responded, “There is a story out there…suggesting that women are now going to come in and solve all of the womens problems…which is problematic in some sense because that means that there is no responsibility.”

Dr. Adams is an expert in data analysisation in her academic career - until there is transparent data from a concrete methodology the idea that women will come in and solve womens inequality in art may just be, as she puts it, ‘a nice story.’

This is made me question, how are young women in art navigating through this world of gender inequality?

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On Changing The Narrative

Female art collectors have a specefic relationship to gendering within the art world. By profession, art collectors have power to control a narrative. So how do women navigate this power in a world that undervalues and underrepresents womens work?

I spoke to Tia Tanna, 25 year old founder of the Tia Art Colllection, on how she views the industry, and social responsibility, as a young woman collector. Tanna is not naive to the power and responsibility that comes with her reach and impact. She effortlessly synopsises her role as a young woman collector by stating,

“Access doesn’t just validate the work; it creates visibility and shapes what gets historicised.”

Tanna agrees that there are few women in the collecting space, but mentions that the most exciting young collectors she is currently encountering - who are thinking seriously about meaning and community rather than just market value of a piece - are women!

“The boundaries between fashion, design, and fine art, which have often been policed in ways that neatly map onto gender, start to feel less fixed. That feels like genuine progress to me, not just for women but for the field.”

On Making The System Work For You

The value based gendering that Tanna discussed between fine arts and couture, was mirrored when I talked to 22 year old Oxfordshire artist, Freya Mizen. I asked Mizen if she saw the arts as being a financially viable option for her career, her answer was succinct and spoke volume:

“To be honest, no. That is why I chose to do physiotherapy instead, so I could have a stable income and do art on the side.”

Mizen says she see’s the most value in using her art to make creative art campaigns in global health and to communicate new research and innovations.

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“And as a mark of respect of that young man I am going to call the highest point we reached on that expedition, Mount Bryan” (from a letter written by Governor Gawler, Governor of South Australia in 1839)

That one line started an adventure to visit the mountain. That young man is my great great great Uncle. My maiden name is Bryan. Can I really have a connection with this Mountain on the other side of the world in Australia?

“To me the hills are part of my history and they’re becoming a part of yours” Tony Sumner commented when we discussed our connection.

His family have farmed the land on the Mount ever since that expedition was made in 1839. England had requested that an expedition was mounted to discover further land for agriculture. Bryan, age 19, an aide to the Governor, begged to join the group. Due to a failing horse and lack of water he disappeared and has never been seen again . “What happened to him … where did he perish … the locals have never had closure from his disappearance” Tony says.

It was becoming obvious that if you know this mountain it starts to know you. “It was a high spot, it was respected … would I say it was sacred? I would say a very strong yes”. Tony tells me, acknowledging aboriginals would have lived here.

He continues “there is an aura there … I have seen two storms head to the top and linger there”. It was also becoming obvious that this Mountain had been intertwined with our two families for longer than we had known.

When we travelled to the top of Mt Bryan in utes, with a bounding escort of kangaroos, in between the gum trees, Tony shows us his paddocks. Coming, coincidentally, from a sheep farming family in Dorset farming Dorset Horn sheep I enquire what sheep he farms. Incredulously he says “Dorset Poll” - the only difference being with horns or not.

Once at the top, covered in awe at the far reaching views and the fact that the expedition made it to here. The hot terrain is sparse. Tony tells me “it’s quite untamed. It’s not easy to muster.” But how much more inhospitable would it have been 180 years ago? There is nothing up there apart from a stone chair, a trig point and a modern intrusion of two masts.

Tony says “you must sit in Rex’s chair to which I reply “really” and quizzically “Rex’s chair”. My son is called Rex and Tony’s Uncle, who built the chair stone by stone, is called Rex. My Godfather, also a Dorset horn farmer, was called Rex, and would have been farming at the same time as this “Uncle Rex”.

We discover two of our children are about to start studying at Melbourne University together, starting that following week. They perch on a granite slab laying the foundations for a deep friendship.

And then we are told the Sumner family have just sold the farm and move out in 4 weeks. So we have only just coincided.

What connection got us there 4 weeks before they depart?

How did the two families end up farming the same breed of sheep?

What connection led Will and Lucy to study at Melbourne University at the same time?

How did the connection arise through the name Rex?

Was I just overthinking this or did Tony feel this human connection “oh hell yeah ..

… it’s like we’ve known you all our life ...we’ve definitely got a connection”. “I think there is some pull or force that is pulling us together”.

What had created this? The mountain, the aboriginals who had no doubt been displaced with the arrival of Gawler’s expedition or Henry Bryan himself whose body had remained somewhere there for 180 years?

Tom Quinn, a primary producer in Mount Bryan, lives facing the Mount, discusses the mountain “it is always there providing a silent strength to me living and farming in its proximity …(I) am drawn to it with a sense of belonging… I believe there was aboriginal existence”.

Tom continues “growing up in the fifties, sixties and seventies, we were taught virtually nothing of the first peoples of this country and we had very little contact with indigenous Australians. So unfortunately I can’t say with any accuracy.” Tony adds “there was a lot of secrecy and a lot not written down, a lot of stuff that is hidden… There’s a lot of stuff we don’t know”.

But whatever we don’t know, we all know we are attached to Mount Bryan. I am drawn back to the landscape regularly in my mind’s eye. I am baffled by the discovered connections. As Tony said “it’s a lot of incidents, a lot of coincidentals that are just almost a little bit mind boggling”.

Tom says “it will always be the recognition that I belong to Mount Bryan and have done so all my life”.

I like to think, there’s no doubt of the human connection, but in my wildest dreams, and despite being across two continents, part of me belongs there too.

As the age-old saying claims: where there will be musicians, there will be a flurry of fangirls following. Whilst ‘beatlemania’ could be considered the birth of the modern fangirl, the term was first used in 1943 by A.P Herbert, and fangirl behaviour was labelled in 1844 as ‘lisztomania’, in reference to composer Franz Liszt.

Yet, despite this consistency, being a fangirl has transformed from a solo endeavour, with fan clubs prioritising keeping fangirls informed rather than connected, to a welcoming group experience, thanks to the rise of social media. And whilst concerns about social media and a potential ban for under 16s has been raised in the UK, it is difficult to not see the appeal of what this generation of fangirls has to offer.

‘Stan’ Twitter (now ‘X’) and TikTok in particular, named to differentiate the casual fan from the true, dedicated ‘stan’, has become a home for many to openly share their intense love for an artist without fear of being labelled strange. Online fandoms come in all sizes with wide diversity, yet a sense of belonging is inevitable through having a debatably insignificant thing in common.

Online listening parties and planning how many dates you absolutely need to be at for your favourite artists’ next tour are essential fangirl bonding experiences. Making ‘mutuals’, a term used to describe when two accounts mutually follow each other, grows to being a part of groupchats, allowing fans to discover similarities beyond their love for the same artist and grow a genuine friendship.

Posts are swapped for messages, messages for long facetimes, until the friendship transitions to real life, where fangirls can barely imagine their life without the people they would not have known existed, if it weren’t for social media.

This is the case for Lara Mountford, a proud fangirl who entered online fandom spaces at the age of 12, and is now 21. She explained to me that while getting into fandoms young, “at the time, I thought, this is just what I need. And to be fair, it was.”

She stated how group chats are born out of fans going to the same tour date, propelling online connections straight into the real life sphere.

“I’ve seen The 1975 in Birmingham, with some people from a group chat who we’d never met before the show, and we just met up and went together, and it was great. It felt like I’d known them for ages, and I literally never met them until that day.”

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In an age of loneliness, for many fangirls it feels like an act of rebellion to find belonging through a device that many claim are taking away from the value of human connection.

With the distance from real life, fangirls become a safe space for each other to both share any worries, and escape the baggage of real life. Finding successful, long-surviving friendships can feel easier online too, due to the instant filtering of people through interests and the lack of location as a barrier.

Lara found this aspect of fangirl spaces invaluable, due to her living far away from London, where a lot of concerts, thus fangirl activity, take place.

“There’s not a lot going on [in Devon]. So in the evenings, especially when I was younger as well, before I could drive, I didn’t have much to do, so I would either watch films and listen to music or talk about films and music.

“When I was younger, it was definitely an escape from school. And when you’re a teenager, you need to escape somehow.”

The appeal of escape in online fandoms can be especially true for those in minority communities, for example people of colour, the LGBTQ+ community and neurodivergent people, who may struggle to relate to those in their real lives.

Dr. Eva Cheuk Yin Li, a media and cultural studies researcher at Kings College London, explained:

“These spaces often feel safer because they allow people to experiment with identity and desires, find validation, and build relationships around shared passions rather than conforming to social norms.

“While online platforms and intra-group fan dynamics can be far from perfect, the ability to curate community and participate can make fandom a profoundly affirming space for those who don’t always find that recognition offline.”

Minority communities within fandoms are embraced through hashtags to celebrate particular groups of fans within communities, from black women to autistic people. Pride flags appear in profile pictures, and the complete normalisation of featuring pronouns in profiles reduces fear of being misgendered.

Fangirls’ support grows by coming together to fundraise, aiming to make a larger impact beyond their community. For example, Harry Styles fans fundraise to celebrate his birthday every year, for non-profit organisations such as Black Girls Rock, Transline and Islamic Relief.

This generosity extends to fellow fangirls, with Lara explaining how one of her online friends “had a house fire and she tweeted about it, and she ends up getting a lot of money in a GoFundMe, because all of her merchandise and everything’s obviously destroyed.”

Being a fangirl is no longer something to indulge in by yourself. Social media has become an integral part to the fangirl experience, allowing many to feel loved, accepted and develop a strong identity of who they are even outside of being a fangirl.

Lara continued that without this 9 year experience, she thinks her life “would be really boring.

“I think I would just act completely different. I think I would be a lot more introverted, a lot more quiet and keep myself to myself.”

No matter how loud a fangirl may scream when their favourite artist comes on stage, or how many tissues they use when listening to a new album, it is safe to say being a fangirl means so much more than love for an artist. It means being truly part of something, and whilst there are valid concerns surrounding social media, it is important to not forget its value.

How much would you invest in a country if you knew it could ask you to leave in 30 months? Would you go out of your way to integrate into the society, its culture, food, language, talk weather, have small talk with the barista or neighbour, and make friends with the locals ?

But what if you are fleeing political persecution or a deadly conflict in your home country, and this new country is your only hope for surviving and thriving?

The UK government has made refugee protection temporary for 30 months or two and a half years. Where does that leave refugees and their life in the UK?

Fahmi Sidou, 40, is no longer a refugee. He is a British citizen. Despite the powers and freedom that come with this passport and nationality, he has not returned to his home country Syria since he left a decade ago.

“Every Syrian person would like to be back in Syria, but they know what’s happening, it’s not safe, and the government is not good.”

Aleppo to Oxford– not a silk route

Fahmi is Syrian, Kurdish, British. He wears his multiple identities lightly, but his journey from Syria to Oxford has been anything but light. Originally from Afrin, a Kurdish majority region in Aleppo governorate in western Syria, where Kurdish language and identity was prohibited by the Assad regime for decades.

“Kurdish people if we live in Syria or Iran, if we don’t say we are Kurdish, it is fine. But it’s a problem if we say Kurdish. My name is Arabic, not Kurdish. I don’t have a Kurdish name.”

Working in the car battery business, he earned £2000-3000 per month, a significant amount in pre-war Syria time.

“I was travelling so much within Syria, my job was good, I knew people, and people knew me. Here I don’t know my neighbour, but in Syria, I knew the entire city”.

Fahmi was one of the many who protested against the Assad regime. He says the photograph of him at the demonstration (featured above) could have gotten him killed in Syria a few years ago. Tragedy did strike Fahmi’s family with a missing brother in law, and one of Fahmi’s brothers was killed by the Free Army in Daraa governorate in southern Syria (later Yarmouk Martyrs’ Brigade, a group affiliated with ISIS). Soon, he and his brother’s family decided to leave Syria.

Syria to Jordan to Egypt and finally to the UK in 2017. Fahmi and his brother’s family were supported by the UN on medical grounds, as his brother needed urgent dialysis for his kidneys. 20,000 Syrians were rehabilitated in the UK between 2017-2020.

Fahmi fondly recalls the support he received from the charity Asylum Welcome. “Everything was ready in the house, the ID, refugee card for 5 years.”

Fahmi was provided with English language lessons at a college in University of Oxford. One of his first jobs was as a cleaner in a restaurant. After a couple of stints in restaurants, he applied for a job as a maintenance worker.

The only problem– he did not know what ‘maintenance’ meant in English! But he did know the answer to the most important question in the interview– between a broken water pipe and electricity issue, which problem should be addressed first. He has been in maintenance work since 2022.

In 2018, Fahmi met his partner, also a Syrian, and previously a refugee.

‘It’s good when you work, you build connections, you know people. I have Syrian friends, Kurdish friends and English friends. Now I have more English friends.’

Plunging refugees into uncertainty with no durable integration to the UK

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The United Kingdom, the safe sanctuary for many asylum seekers fleeing all kinds of circumstances, has left asylum seekers in dire straits. Inspired by the restrictive Danish model, to reduce irregular Channel crossings, and reduce ‘pull factors’ to the UK, every 30 months, or two and half years, a refugee could potentially be sent back to their home country, if the country is deemed safe. If not safe, the refugee file will be reviewed every two and half years, making any real and durable integration for the refugees in the UK challenging.

“30 months is no time at all to be offered protection. It offers no stability at all for the migrants to stabilise their current circumstances, their living arrangements, their plans for the future, and normalise their lives”, says Dr. Tamsin Barber, Associate Professor in Sociology, and Chair of the Migration & Refugees Network at Oxford Brookes University.

She also foresees that “existing communities in the UK would have to play a much larger role, much more reliance on existing ethnic diaspora in the UK, and step up and take a much larger role in supporting the arrivals.”

Dr. Barber reflects on the safety aspect, “Two and a half years is not sufficient time for things to have improved in their home countries. And local relationships perhaps would have also gone awry. And the situation back home wouldn’t have settled down, and exploitation and threat would still be there in the communities.”

Fahmi’s hesitation to return to Syria, reflects this concern of safety. Ironically, despite protesting against the Assad regime, he says the current regime is more complex for people like him with multiple identities of Syrian and Kurdish.

“There is another problem now between Sunni, Alawaite, Kurdish, Druze, and Christians. In Syria, earlier we never had such problems. I worked with Sunni, Shia, Alawite, Christians, and we never asked when we met who is what.”

Dr. Esteban Devis-Amaya, Senior Lecturer in Spanish and Latin America Studies at Oxford Brookes University believes this change in refugee policy is ethically wrong.

“These people would have made a lot of connections their whole lives, would have been here, their families would have been created here, spouses, children. I think this anxiety is going to affect not only the refugees, but also those that are close to them, family members, friends, co-workers, etc.”

Dr. Esteban fortunately sees a silver lining and foresees that the administrative, social and cultural drawbacks for the Home Office will be so significant, that the policy change could be repealed later.

‘Firstly, it’s safe. People are kind. If there’s a problem with the government, you can speak to the government and question the government.’

Fahmi says he would still come to the UK, even if it was temporary.

So what if I just got rid of it?

07:15 am — My alarm rings. My first action of the day is not looking at Instagram and checking my email. I miss bathing my eyes in the bright colours of my phone.

The start into the first day of my week-long self-experiment living without a smartphone was reluctant. But I am not alone in wishing to get rid of it.

‘I hate my phone’, ‘I think it is a bit of a burden sometimes’, or ‘I thought about getting a flip phone’ is what you hear when asking around a university campus in Oxford.

While young people value their phone’s connectivity and productivity features, they say ‘it does hinder one’s freedom’ and costs them ‘so much time that I could be spending on things that are just more enjoyable.’

Indeed, research shows that 39% of the UK’s Gen Z think that social media has done them more harm than good. And almost half of young people would rather have grown up in a world without the internet, according to a recent poll.

But: a different survey found that a majority of young adults still think that digital technologies improved their lives.

07:45 am — I’m brushing my teeth without watching a YouTube video. So boring. I’m alone with my thoughts.

Some progressives are living like this every day, without any modern technology. ‘You’re totally liberated and you never think about going back,’ said August Lamm, an anti-tech activist based in New York.

It took the 30-year-old writer three years to fully transition into her analogue life. ‘It’s just minor inconveniences or slight changes in your life because you can’t do everything. But overall, I have a much richer life. I’m much happier and more present and focused and grounded.’

08:15 am — I’m working out without listening to music or a podcast. I think I am more focused.

I wanted to scratch the surface of what Ms Lamm was describing. For my experiment, I got a Nokia. It has basic functionality and lets you play Snake. It didn’t work with my international SIM card.

Using Assistive Access, I put my iPhone into ‘dumb mode’ instead, restricting its functionality to that of the Nokia.

The self-imposed rules of my experiment still allowed me to use my laptop. However: only on the uni campus, and only for uni work.

09:00 am — I still have not checked my email and WhatsApp messages. I’m getting anxious.

Apparently, we have gotten used to numbing aversive feelings like that through technology. ‘What’s being normalised is that if people are feeling anxious, or bored, or sad, or worried, or grief, or whatever, they’re almost like: “oh, this is bad. I can’t handle this,”’ explained Dr Elaine Kasket, a chartered member of the British Psychological Society’s cyberpsychology section.

Modern technology is responding to our longings. It is ‘exploiting something that is already in us,’ said Dr Kasket.

‘Our minds are naturally very distractible. They’re very jumpy. They’re very hedonistic. They look for pleasure and distraction and avoidance of pain.’

01:00 pm — I’m having lunch without listening to a podcast. I read a magazine instead and feel cool, better than my usual weak, addicted self.

‘We end up judging ourselves as though it’s some kind of personal failing,’ said Dr Kasket. She criticises the narrative that locates the reason for our unhealthy relationship with technology in the individual.

‘You’re like a victim of gaslighting. Where you’re like: “oh, I’m the problem.”’

She described multiple influences on our smartphone usage: we are being incentivised to use them for everything, from plane tickets to government services. They follow the principle of behavioural reinforcement, instantly gratifying us. And we are influenced by the behaviour of those around us.

03:00 pm — I’m meeting my friends, without any distraction from my phone. I value their company way more than usual.

Anti-tech activist Ms Lamm said that some of her relationships had become more complicated. That is why the university students I interviewed stick to their phones: They don’t want to be ‘out of touch with my friends, not being able to communicate in the same way.’

06:30 pm — I’m at Tesco and cannot use the Clubcard and credit card in my digital wallet. Annoying. I also cannot access the group chat with my friends to see if they want to meet up.

Ms Lamm agreed that there are many advantages to modern technology. Yet: ‘at the expense of every single person’s enjoyment of life.’

However, there is an argument for differentiating between good and bad tech usage. Dr Kasket thinks that we should not blame our phones for all of our social and emotional problems. Instead, it is all about finding out which features enrich our lives and which don’t.

08:30 pm — I’m not watching Netflix, I’m not doomscrolling. Instead, I’m now addicted to the Game of Thrones books. My day feels more quiet. I’m content.

‘This is your one life, and when you think about this decision of whether to have a smartphone, you’re thinking about how much time you want to have in your life, how much control you want to have over your life,’ said Ms Lamm.

‘And I think everyone who’s considering switching to a dumb phone knows deep down that they would be better and happier and there would be less tension between the person that they want to be and the person that they are.’

I did not miss the constant content consumption, nor being reachable all the time. But I did miss my phone’s functionality and being in touch with my friends and family.

I’m torn between Ms Lamm’s utopia and Dr Kasket’s pragmatism.

I’m only sure about one thing: I deleted Instagram and never looked back.

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Though sometimes people grow out of their shell to face the real world outside, it is not as easy as it seems to be. The city that feels physically crowded. Yet, there is a specific kind of isolation that only happens in a crowd. A feeling of being surrounded by thousands of people while realising that none of them actually see you.

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The “Nicer Outfit”

When a student moves into a new place looking forward to new experiences, they are required to make a performance along as well. Thinking of it, the best coined name could be a “nicer outfit”– a rehearsed version of ourselves that we put on every morning. We dress up our exhaustion as an “intellectual rigour” and isolation as “independence.”

“It can increase the loneliness inside”, says Ms. Gisela Lockie, an Integrative Psychotherapist (UKAHPP registered) and a specialist counselor with many years of experience.

“Because you’re no longer in contact with how you’re feeling inside… it creates a sense of ‘false self’ rather than growing your genuine self.” According to Ms. Lockie, maintaining a facade isn’t just tiring – it’s a barrier to the very thing that cures loneliness: connection.

“It would affect your ability, maybe, to make friends,” she explains, “because you’re longing so much to be where you’re not.”

The so-called “Best Years”

Part of the problem is the cultural script we are handed the moment we receive our offer letters. University is marketed as the peak of our social lives – a nonstop carousel of lifelong friendships and transformative experiences.

“There is a stereotype about what one should feel at university,” Ms. Lockie notes. “It’s really hyped up to be the biggest party of your life…but actually it isn’t. For some people, it’s a struggle to be on your own or away from your family.”

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When reality fails to meet the hype, students often internalise the gap as a personal failure. If everyone else seems to be thriving the “buzz” of the city, we assume there must be something wrong with us.

The fear of displacement

For those who have travelled across oceans to be here, the loneliness is often compounded by a loss of “history.”

We start everything in a hustle or maybe with very precise planning. But, it does change. I read an online comment that said, “If you’re planning to move away, be prepared for the worst, for nobody will truly be there.” Though it sounds scary, it is the reality. We may find a sense of belonging somewhere, but the feeling of emptiness remains.

Ms. Lockie moved from Scotland to England as a student, recalls how even small sensory shifts – the sound of a specific accent or the smell of a familiar food – can trigger a profound sense of being “out of place.”

If age could solve everything, was it easy for the older?

Ajish Antony, a mature international student with a wife and child back home, describes his experience as a quiet disconnection rather than visible isolation. “It feels like being present in a place but not fully belonging to it,” he says.

His days are structured, with lectures, assignments and routines, but the absence of shared moments always linger. “There’s no one to share small things with. Even simple things like cooking or walking feel quieter than they should.”

For him, distance is not just physical. It reshapes identity. As a husband and father, being away creates what he calls a sense of “incompleteness,” which intensifies during moments that would normally be shared, such as family events or even a video call where change becomes visible in real time.

Despite this, coping becomes deliberate. Regular calls home, staying engaged with studies and maintaining routine offer some stability. But the gap remains.

It is not a “Sin”

If there is a takeaway from the clinical perspective. It is that loneliness is a biological signal, not a character flaw. It is an experience that we are meant to learn how to navigate, bit by bit, though it often throws us into the deep end without a life jacket.

“It’s okay to feel lonely,” Ms. Lockie emphasises. “That’s not a sin. It doesn’t mean you’re a failure. It doesn’t mean you’re not going to be a success. We all feel lonely at times.”

Perhaps the first step to feeling less alone in a city this full is admitting that the “Nicer Outfit” is starting to feel a little tight, a little too tight. After all, it’s hard for someone to see the real you if you’re always hiding behind a facade of being “okay”.

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What comes to your mind when you hear a Japanese film?

Perhaps it is not easy to define exactly, since manga and anime culture have been deeply ingrained in people’s minds.

Regarding Japanese artifacts, there was a boom of Japanese art in Western culture in the late 19th century, when Ukiyoe was exported.

After that, Japanese cinema suddenly emerged into Western consciousness in the 1950s, according to Dr.Alexander Jacoby, Senior Lecturer in Japanese studies at Brookes University.

Such cinema was considered an elite and prestigious pastime at that time.

“There is definitely a new populism to the way in which Japanese arts are received in the West, especially among the young people” he said.

He told Hybrid Magazine how students react to Japanese artifacts.

“Perhaps engage with the image of Japan that’s created by manga and anime, and maybe they’re less certain about what the reality holds for, if they go there.”

The Japan Film Tour Programme 2026

Then what is the reality of Japanese culture through films?

Changing such a uniform image of Japanese films, the Japan Foundation started a project called “The Japan Film Tour Programme “.

This project has been continued for 23 years, and this year’s theme is “Knowing Me, Knowing You”.

In a divided world, the self-image is easily distorted by others and social media, so having one’s true self is crucial. Junko Takekawa, Senior Arts Programme Officer of the Japan Foundation London, carefully selected films that fit the theme.

She raised one of the selected comedy films, “Strangers in Kyoto ぶぶ漬けいかがどす” to explain the core theme of this programme.

Kyoto city is one of the traditional and popular tourist destinations, located on the island of Honshu.

One of their culture is not speaking directly, and the famous phrases is “Would you like some bubuzuke?” actually means “Please go home early” when the guest is not favourable. This phrase is used for this Japanese film title as well.

“This illustrates the gap between the surface and the true intent”, she added.

“This film also shows the gap between the ‘image’ of Kyoto held by outsiders and the reality of the residents who might find it difficult to live in. Ultimately, there is a gap between ‘the constructed image’ of Kyoto and the reality of those who inhabit it.” she explained.

In this programme, one of the notable comedy films is “The Hotel of my Dream 私にふさわしいホテル”, whose original work was Yuzuki Asako, who is famously known as the author of “BUTTER”.

The Japan Foundation once teamed up with her at the Cheltenham Literature Festival, so that she contributed the text from program notes.

BUTTER is famously known as one of the translated Japanese novels successfully in the UK, for example, this crime and culinary fiction won the Waterstone prize in 2024.

Polly Silk, Senior Lecturer in Publishing at Brookes University, shared why BUTTER got popular with Hybrid Magazine because it was clever marketing, such as book covers and positioning of genre.

“The feminist satire angle is also likely to have played a role as this is a theme that UK readers seem to look to East Asian voices for — the recent growth in UK sales of Japanese and Korean fiction has seemed to favour female authors and feminist perspectives. In the past, this area was dominated by male voices.” She analysed the reasons.

The Japan Foundation is also putting effort into introducing Japanese literature as well.

“Today, many exceptional films are being made based on novels, much like in the past. Given the current boom in translated Japanese fiction, we are passionate about introducing diverse authors alongside their cinematic adaptations.”

She also shared the unchangeable goal to reach new audiences who have not seen Japanese films before.

“We value those regional venues even if the audience numbers fluctuate. As long as the venue is willing to take a risk and collaborate, we want to continue” she added.

The commitment by the local cinema

The Ultimate Picture Palace (The UPP), one of the independent and community-owned cinemas in Oxford, makes it possible to achieve it.

This theatre screens unconventional films, including international films, so that it nurtures the bond between audience and theatre.

“Our audiences in particular love being exposed to different cultures, filmmaking, and storytelling as well.” Tom Jowett, a Head of Programmes and Partnerships of the UPP, spoke with the Hybrid Magazine.

With only around a dozen Japanese films shown in the UK per year, the UPP tries to encourage audiences to take a chance on films which they might not otherwise see.

The partnership between the Japan Foundation was established three years ago out of a commitment to screening a broader range of Japanese films.

Over the last two years, they organised Q&A sessions with the director as well.

Furthermore, they have started teaming up with Japanese film club which screens mainly 1980’s and 90’s classical films over the last summer.

Will, having eight years of experience as a filmmaker in Japan, was selected for the screenings.

Both Tom and Will empathise with the same core values: the importance of building community and the power of cinema as a medium for artistic expression.

The UPP is undoubtedly to say that it is one of the few cinemas dedicated to bringing a wide variety of Japanese films to the audience; however, it has faced closure.

This leads to losing one of the places for social connections and hubs for not only Japanese films but also international films.

Cinemas are key cultural institutions that keep art accessible while playing a crucial role in strengthening community bonds.

It is time for us to stop and reflect on what we are losing.

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“I really hope that it opens up everyone’s eyes to travel, and makes them fall in love with it, the way I did.” These are Briana Morger’s hopes for her first group trip to Costa Rica.

Briana is a content creator who documents her solo travels on Instagram. Social media is awash with travel influencers sharing the highs and lows of solo travel, their favourite destinations, and recommendations with their followers.

AirBnB described solo travel as experiencing a renaissance in their travel predictions for 2026. Solo travellers are focusing on self-discovery and prioritising “me time”, using their holiday as an opportunity to slow down.

But solo travel doesn’t always mean travelling alone. Group travel operators have offered solo-friendly options for a while. Intrepid Travel launched their first tours designed for those travelling alone back in 2018 due to an uptick in solo bookings.

Influencers are presenting a new offering to would-be solo travellers and invite you to take that trip with them. Instead of joining an anonymous group trip, here is a guarantee that there’ll be a familiar face - one you’ve seen all over your socials.

Caroline Edwards reports on online trends for CORQ, an influencer intelligence service. She thinks that influencers are using group trips as a way to diversify their revenue stream.

“Creating a community and having an offline community has been really key, especially that they don’t have to rely on algorithms,” she observed.

Travel solo, but not alone

Whatever their motivations, the trend seems to be resonating.

One of the reasons is that there is still hesitancy to travel alone. Almost a third of Americans are afraid of solo travel according to a survey by Talker Research - and among those who haven’t tried solo travel yet, safety concerns were the top reason.

Laura Ericson runs her own travel company and takes small groups to destinations all over the world. Interest is growing so much that she predicts she will no longer be able to attend every trip herself.

“I realised I could kind of fill my own need and desire of wanting to travel to more off- the-beaten-path destinations and not have to go alone,” she said.

Combined with a reluctance to travel alone, there’s strong demand for long-haul travel destinations. The ABTA Travel Trends 2025 survey suggested that over a third of UK adults planned to visit locations outside of Europe.

Long-haul trips require more planning, and for some, this is off-putting. If you’re travelling alone, there’s additional pressure to get it right.

Caroline Edwards at CORQ thinks it’s no coincidence that influencer trips are often to far-flung destinations, “places that… you potentially wouldn’t want to go to alone because the culture is so different and there might be safety concerns.”

Group trips come with an itinerary and the reassurance that someone else is organising everything on your behalf.

“There’s that ease … and that peace of mind. Like, okay, everything’s taken care of. I don’t have to lift a finger,” says Briana Morger.

Find someone you trust

Briana thinks it’s sensible that some might be doubtful about trusting an influencer they’ve never met in real life.

“You’re trusting a stranger on the internet, essentially, to go across the world and meet up with them. I fully understand it,” she said.

However, most influencers are working with a reputable travel agency like TrovaTrip or, as in Briana’s case, Worldpackers. These companies are doing the planning, while the influencer-host brings the group together and takes the lead while you’re actually there.

Briana’s advice is to ask for a call with the influencer for reassurance. She thinks that reputable creators should make the time to meet and discuss if you request it.

She adds, “If they’re just all about the sale, or just don’t feel reputable, follow that intuition.”

Krystina Smith has lost count of how many trips she has taken with Laura Ericson. She likes that Laura always visits a destination before, which is not always the case with influencer-led trips.

“I feel like, when I travel with Laura, I’m going to be in good hands,” she said.

Find your niche

Another common concern is that influencer-led trips will be hyper-focused on getting content for social media feeds. And these trips do exist. Some travel influencers organise trips that are a crash course on how to make engaging content and become a successful content creator.

Laura Ericson said “You’re bringing people that have the same interests… who won’t be annoyed by everyone having their phones out, filming their dinner.”

She continues, “You know you’re all in the same place and you have this common goal.”

But there’s other types of trips, such as wellness retreats, and it’s about finding something you identify with. For example, Lindsey Holland (@marnierays_) hosts women’s surf retreats, which welcome women with all levels of surfing skills.

Find new friendship

You might instinctively look for a trip with people in your age bracket. However, intergenerational trips do exist, and they can be a surprising way to connect with people.

Laura Ericson’s group trips generally attract travellers in their 30s and 40s. But her oldest traveller was 77 years old.

She said “I’ve just seen a lot of friendships form between different generations, and I haven’t found that it [age] matters.”

The online relationship between influencers and followers is one-sided, a type of parasocial relationship according to experts.

Dr Hannah Yelin has written extensively about women in the public eye. Her research into parasocial relationships suggests we should be doubtful about whether influencers, always accessible online, can form genuine friendships with followers. This online exposure can be dangerous, according to Dr Yelin.

She says “This is a fantasy of absolute access that is inevitably impossible to deliver on.”

Briana Morger is more optimistic.

“I think that it’s so special, and I think that’s why most people go on these trips to have that connection and friendships. It’s like built-in friendships… it’s just going to happen naturally.”

For a growing number of university students, it doesn’t look like loneliness. It looks like full calendars, busy groups chat, last minute plans. It looks like a crowded kitchen in the student halls, music spilling into the corridors, people laughing over cheap drinks. It looks like a connection.

But behind that noise, something else is quietly taking hold. A December 2025 study by PfP Students found that 70% of students in the UK have felt lonely or isolated, with one in three saying they feel this way often. Nearly half struggle to make friends where they live, and 43% say they feel isolated in their own accommodation.

These concerns start even before university begins. Government research shows that more than half of students (52%) worry about loneliness more than money, academic pressure, or even fitting in.

In cities like Oxford, where something is always happening, this reality feels counterintuitive. Students are constantly surrounded. By people, by notifications, by opportunities to connect.

And yet, for many, something doesn’t quite translate. Connection is everywhere, closeness is not.

Student loneliness in university halls in England

“I knew lots of people, but I didn’t feel close to anyone”

We have never been so connected. Messages are instant. Our social lives are on full display. Apps promise friendships, romantic relationships, and endless opportunities to meet people.

But being connected does not mean being close.

Loneliness isn’t simply the absence of people. It’s the gap between the relationships we have and those we’d like to have. You can be surrounded by acquaintances and still feel that nobody really knows you.

Mahesh Singh, 29, is an international student from India. He arrived in Oxford hoping to have a busy social life. “At first, it was exciting. I was constantly meeting new people. In lectures, at events, and through societies.”

His days were soon filled with socialising. On the surface, he was far from isolated.

“But after a few weeks, I realised something was missing. I knew lots of people, but I didn’t feel close to anyone.” This feeling became more apparent in those quiet moments. “You go out, you talk to people, you laugh… but then you go home, and there’s only silence.”

Maintaining relationships with loved ones back home brought him some comfort, but also highlighted the distance. “You lead two lives at the same time. One where everything is familiar, and the other where everything is new. And sometimes, you don’t fully belong to either.”

“You have loads of conversations, but they remain superficial”

We often think of loneliness as a state of isolation. But for many students, it manifests itself in the midst of a very active social life.

Shirine Rabbat, 20, a second-year Swiss student, describes herself as an extrovert. She goes out regularly, is a member of several societies and rarely spends a weekend on her own. “I’m always busy. I know lots of people, I go to events, I’m constantly surrounded by people.”

But that doesn’t necessarily translate into closeness.

“It might sound strange, but you can be surrounded by people all the time and still feel quite lonely. You have loads of conversations, but they remain superficial.” She describes a pattern familiar to many students: superficial conversations and fleeting interactions.

“You meet people, you say ‘we should meet up’, but it rarely leads to anything deeper. It’s as if you’re socially busy, but emotionally not really connected.”

If there’s one thing that should make relationships easier, it’s technology. Students are constantly reachable. Via Instagram, WhatsApp, dating apps or never-ending group chats. But this constant connectivity often creates the illusion of closeness rather than the reality.

A study by the University of Manchester published in July 2025 suggests that passive use of social media (scrolling, watching, comparing) can actually heighten feelings of loneliness and inadequacy.

For international students, this challenge is often compounded by cultural and language barriers, making it harder to move beyond superficial interactions.

“Social interaction is essential. But it has to be meaningful.”

For mental health researcher Rosemary Chigevenga, these experiences reflect a broader shift. “Loneliness is not simply about being alone. It’s about lacking meaningful social support.”

She points to the environments students are navigating, often highly individualistic, fast paced, and digitally mediated. “In more collectivist cultures, there is a stronger emphasis on togetherness and everyday interaction. In more individualistic contexts, people can become more isolated, even when they are surrounded.”

She also highlights the role of digital habits. “If a platform makes you feel worse, it’s important to step away. Students need to be intentional about who they surround themselves with. People who genuinely support them.”

Her message is clear: connection requires more than proximity. “Social interaction is essential. But it has to be meaningful.”

Part of the difficulty lies in what the students leave behind. The friendships forged over the years cannot be recreated overnight. Back home, bonds formed naturally. An inside joke, an eye contact; at Oxford, it’s back to square one. Phone calls help, but they also highlight the distance.

“You’re constantly maintaining your old life whilst trying to build a new one. It’s exhausting” explains Mahesh. This in-between space, neither quite here nor quite there can heighten the feeling of isolation.

Some students are actively working to change this dynamic. William Nadin, member of the French society, explains that loneliness has become a recurring theme.

“We’ve noticed that people come to events, but still struggle to form lasting connections.” To address this, his society has started organising more intimate and targeted gatherings: coffee meet-ups, alcohol free events and discussion groups.

“The idea is to move away from large, noisy events. These are great, but they don’t always help people form deeper connections.” Instead, the focus is on creating environments where conversations can last longer than a few minutes. “When you give people time and space, they open up more. That’s when real connections start to form.”

In the UK there are many different types of GLP-1 drugs/weight loss medication; the main ones being semaglutide, also known as Wegovy, and Tirzepatide more commonly known as Mounjaro.

The drugs work by releasing a hormone into the body called glucagon-like peptide-1 (GLP-1), this hormone is naturally released after eating and satisfies hunger. The introduction of added amounts of this hormone, through the medication, will make those who take it feel fuller for longer, with a loss of appetite. Over time, this disinterest for food and deficit will lead to weight loss.

See video explaining a little more:

In order to legally obtain these drugs they must be prescribed, however by the NHS having a strict criteria and private healthcare being extremely expensive, limits accessibility and pushes unsafe alternatives.

However still, the popularity of these drugs has risen due to its recognised ability to lose weight quickly. A study was done by UCL university that suggests that between early 2024 and early 2025, 1.6 million adults in the UK used weight loss medication to help them achieve their weight goals. On top of that 4.9 million adults in Great Britain were interested in using the drugs in the near future.

The inequalities and access to these drugs have come to light through the ability to obtain the drugs through private healthcare, but only if you can afford them. During a labour party conference speaking on weight loss medication Wes Streeting states “The wealthy talk about how they’ve transformed their health, their confidence, their quality of life, but what about the millions who can’t afford them?” He argues people’s standard of health should not be based on wealth. The Independent estimated that about 90% of people on the medication pay privately, spending hundreds of pounds. Those who cannot afford the drug or are ineligible via the NHS, are still able to receive treatment but in an illegal, dangerous and unregulated manner.

An interview was conducted, where a young lady talks about her struggles with weight and her attempts at getting Mounjaro through the NHS. She wishes to remain anonymous but for the sake of the article we will name her Jane.

When asked if she has experienced being treated differently based on her weight, with no hesitation, “yes…Especially when it comes to attraction… you do feel very self conscious”, she speaks about the comparison to other women and that she feels other women have the bodies that men would want, and she doesn’t. Immediately we think where has society gone wrong? Why are young women comparing oneself to others and belittling themselves because of their size?

Jane mentions she has tried to lose weight before but emphasises the struggle of wanting results immediately. She explains that “as a big girl…you do feel like it’s not working a lot of the time…just get frustrated with it”.

The gym can be intimidating for people who struggle with body confidence. Jane discusses her trial at the gym and the fact she felt uncomfortable when she went, she speaks about the women who have “perfect bodies” and she shouldn’t even be at the gym; “It’s just pressure and it’s not pleasant’.

We then discussed her experience trying to access weight loss medication. She had originally heard about the jabs through a family member and thought she would try it out. However when going to her local GP it was immediately shut down. She revealed “I told them what my issues were… I wasn’t happy mentally”, they came to the conclusion her weight was a depression contender. She implies unless there is a physical issue there is no way to get these jabs on the NHS, yet those who go private and pay, have less of an issue.

She describes her experience as being “horrible. You see all these rich people that can afford it out of pocket and they don’t even necessarily need it. But they just throw it in your face”.

She believes the GP dismissed her. “Even if you are on the verge of, I don’t want to be here because of this…They still don’t do anything and just toss you aside.”

After being refused by the NHS Jane then looked for alternatives, on other websites and various places for the same thing just cheaper. She said “it would still be out of pocket.”

I had the opportunity to speak to another lady regarding her mounjaro journey, however she has the ability and fortune to be able to go private, she is the same as Jane and states “I am desperate to see results and lose weight” and she knows that “going through the NHS is a long process”. But is lucky enough to get straight into it and start the medication.

Jane was asked what she would say to those who act like it easy to lose weight and change lifestyles and she said “I would just say that you’re not very considerate of other people’s situations, home life and mentality, because those people in particular have a great mentality…they have a certain way and let’s be realistic, these people can afford to have those lifestyles, whilst for myself, like living with a family that is considered a big family. Having that lazy lifestyle, having junk food, all of that. It’s very hard to break.”

To make journeys easier, society needs to shift its mindset. Jane states “People aren’t thinking enough. And I think that’s what the issue is. Everyone just sees big and skinny.”

Jane’s story reflects society’s role in body shaming and weight discrimination, which are shaped by class and wealth. Social media promotes unrealistic beauty standards for women and in turn will go to extreme lengths to fit in. The demand for the medication shows how our current culture prioritises altering bodies over challenging dangerous ideals of beauty. It reinforces the message that if you’re wealthy, you have more advantages to healthcare and an edge over those who aren’t as fortunate.

Changing these standards and ideas around weight needs to happen. But what also needs to happen is better education on obesity and its deeper rooted causes; by addressing from the onset reduces the need for weight loss medication in the first place.

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‘Punk is dead’

The punk rock band Crass declared these words to the world through their new song. The raw lyrics of this song such as ‘It’s just another cheap product for the consumers’ head’ expresses frustration over the very rapid commercialisation of the punk rock movement since its emergence in the mid-1970s. The band claimed that punk had been turned into a simple and ‘empty’ mainstream fashion rather than a foundation for new ideas and a movement that defies societal establishments. This song released in 1978 showcasing that commodification of the movement and ergo irritations surrounding this started very early in the movement’s lifespan. Now in 2026, we are entering the 50th anniversary of Punk. This year will be filled with events celebrating the history, music, figures and iconic moments of one of the most influential explosions in music. Most notably, punk legends Sex Pistols will return in December 2026 for a UK and Ireland tour in commemoration of the milestone titled “Anarchy In The U.K. Tour”. Reminiscing 50 years later, how accurate is Crass’ statement today? Is Punk still an unfortunate victim of commodification?

British punk was credited to be born in 1976 through the opening of SEX in London (the fashion store established by renowned Vivienne Westwood and Malcolm McLaren) and vulgarised through the notorious work of the Sex Pistols leading the scene’s musical emphasis. Inspired by these two icons, punk rapidly spread and became a movement that opposes pretty much everything, becoming easily identifiable through its focus on DIY (Do It Yourself) production, anti-authoritarian messaging and distinct fashion. During a time of political and economic turmoil, punk was a youth culture that negated the current societal state of living aiming to prompt change through raw music and action.

As previously mentioned, there have been multiple claims of punk going against its anti-establishment identifications due to its absorption into the mainstream whether it be accidental or deliberate from as far back as the late 1970s. This belief is mainly due to big, fast-fashion, street brands adapting the scene into their lines as a response to the sudden explosion.

Punk history Professor Matthew Worley at Reading University spoke about this phenomenon recollecting that “Back in the day, in 77, it was incredibly quick how brands like Topshop and whatever brands in Topshop were repurposing punk style. And even on a very general level, it was incredibly quick how people went from wearing flared trousers before punk to wearing tight trousers after punk.”

Due to this commercialisation it is very easy to claim that ‘punk’, as in the negation of everything conventional, is dead. “I think one of the ways in which punk was appropriated and the way in which punk is diluted or contained is when its signifiers, whether that’s its fashion or whether it’s its sound, becomes familiar and and it becomes codified and is reproduced,” says Worley.

It is not wrong to claim that punk isn’t as predominant in the 21st century as it used to be. However, punk is certainly not dead and never was. In fact, as a response to the previously mentioned song by Crass, a rallying call was created that belted ‘Punk’s not dead!’ The claim that punk has ‘died’ is a consistent cycle within punk history in which the scene constantly adapts to fight against. Worley states that “There’s a great Sex Pistols slogan that they stole from the Spanish anarchist Durruti, which is ‘don’t be afraid of the ruins’. Make something out of the ruins, make something better.” When the punk scene seems to be in ‘ruins’ due to its death claims, the most punk thing that you could possibly do is to take advantage and define something new.

Punk has diversified with time and an active scene truly still exists in the UK 50 years later. Protest and political engagement remains more relevant now than ever. There are always new bands emerging into the punk rock scene, filling up music venues across the country. Matthew Worley talks about his home town of Norwich giving insight into the current activeness of the scene. He has observed the mixed involvement of the older generation and younger generation disputing claims that punk thrives solely off nostalgia. 25-year-old Lexxi has been attending punk gigs and events for 5+ years and notes that the scene exists mainly underground with audiences between 18 and 50 years of age however noting that there is a significant imbalance with the older generation dominating.

“I really hope that because more younger people are facing hardships due to society, the government, politics, etc. a lot of people in my generation and younger are more leftist and more likely to join non conformist subculture. Punk is not dead and will not die anytime soon, concerts and such are still very much thriving,” they said.

Along with this, there has been a revival of DIY ethics through online platforms such as TikTok and Pinterest. One way in which DIY punk culture continues to thrive is through zine creation. Elleanna Chapman from the Grrrl Zine Fair spoke about this overlap.

“We are living through an unprecedented crisis of capitalism, with many young people, being termed the ‘crisis generation’ having known nothing other than war, austerity, and unrest.” Chapman says, “I think punk, if it wants to continue the lineage of its anti-establishment origins, will have massive potential to grow in this next period, as people look to communities, grassroots organisations, and subcultures, for a way to fight back. As long as punk stays DIY and politicised, it should be here to stay.”

Punk’s core characteristic is the ability to adapt and shift. As Worley says, “The punk thing to do is to adapt, adopt, reimagine a way of being that’s different and this distinct.” Due to this punk will never truly die no matter what people claim.

‘Punk’s not dead!’

In June 2025 I traveled through a road trip around Turkey to see my fathers hometown, Dersim. Climbing our sacred place, Duzgin Baba mountain and seeing worship places of cemevis educated me further of my religion of Alevism and how it still stands despite being marginalised.

Growing up as an Alevi Turkish/Kurdish in the UK developed identity barriers in my life. From lack of RE sessions taught about my religion in primary school, to struggling to provide a straightforward definition of what my religion is to someone in University. But this is not a form that I’m unaware of or untaught of my religion that I can’t express myself, rather Alevism is what has built me to be who I am today through its egalitarian beliefs. Alevism has always raised me to be empathetic, respectful and shaped my politics to be against racism, fascism, and always to recognise animal and human rights.

UK Alevis, especially second-generation Alevis, have struggled with their identity perspective of Alevism due to its oppression and its lack of recognition. This is rooted in the history of colonisation and massacres my ancestors in Turkey have endured, which has left an oppressed, scarring colonial mentality that Alevism should be hidden or distraught, as it’s a “negative identity” to the radical Islamist perspective. The ongoing systemic discrimination among the Alevi communities in Turkey has left an everlasting scar for the religion to be fully recognised or for Alevis worldwide to learn the culture officially.

Why is it challenging for Alevis to carry their identity? How did a historic colonisation dating back 600 years effectively damage the modern Alevis ‘ ability to learn the religion? Why is it hard for Alevis to identify themselves in the modernised world? Well, Alevis find it hard to explain their religion truly because “Alevism is a lived religion. You live Alevism… there is not a book to sit down and read” according to Lecturer and Researcher of Westminster University, who dedicated his research to Alevi community and identity issues, Dr Umit Cetin.

Persecution effects

Looking back to the era of the 1300s, since the Ottoman Empire was established in Turkey, Alevis were persecuted and punished by the Turkish government and high authorities just because they were different from Sunni Turks. A report in 2013 records that there are 82,693 mosques in Turkey, and only 937 cemevis, mainly built by Alevis with no funds for government support. Massacres were one of the most common punishments Alevis in the 20th century endured, particularly the Dersim Massacre (1937-1938), which was renamed as Tunceli, for the government to demonstrate Turkish military administration and power and that rebellion is impossible for the Alevis. According to Bianet, it was found that estimates of 20,000 to 70,000 people of Dersim were killed by bombing, poisonous gas and village raids.

Dr Cetin says the history of Alevi persecutions has left Alevis thinking of their identity as “primitive” and should be hidden due to the massacres that left a colonised mentality of fear to the Alevis. “Because you are Alevi, you are not a human being, you are not a proper individual, you are not a modern citizen…you can’t be a nice, proper human being when you are Alevi”, said Dr Cetin. The challenges of a colonised mentality in a religion have reached many effects of people not wanting to associate with the religion due to fear, such as Dr Cetin identifies, Alevi parents in fear of their children identifying as Alevi’s, as they may experience a form of hate and discrimination, which shocked him as he is openly passionate about Alevism.

I asked an Oxford Brookes University student if they know Alevism in Turkey, and Dr Cetin response whether the information online about Alevism is accurate:

Second-generation identity Crisis

After Alevi migrated from Turkey to the UK in the 1980s with now 300,000 living in the UK, the history of colonisation and persecution has caused far damaged evolvement to modern second-generation Alevi born or living in the UK. Dr. Cetin says that because Alevis hide their identity due to fear they have experienced in Turkey, the first generation that moved to the UK either perceived religion would be irrelevant in a modernised country, or failed to transfer the information about Alevism to their children. “There was a gap, and this gap caused a lot of problems. I meant it caused a lot for the Alevi second generation, and now we talk about the third generation. And some of them were killed by suicide, some of them were disoriented, they were alienated…”. The lack of identity has also led to second-generation Turkish and Kurdish Alevi young men to be involved in gangs and crime, and the rise of anomic suicide rates in the UK, a subject where Dr Cetin has expertise, researched paper among the suicide rates and the factors that may have caused the rise.

Alevi Turk, Yildiz expressed how her parents taught her the values to take in her daily life, but still struggles to embrace her identity: “I struggle with having/finding representation, and it makes it hard to relate to people due to it being a minority group….I found it difficult to find information or express it to others.”

Building through community

Despite the struggle of identity, there has been a positive witnessing shift over the years of Alevis across the UK, mainly London, slowly but swiftly building to repair the struggle of identity of historic persecution scars in the form of a strong sense of community. Charity organisations such as the British Alevi Federation, have established seventeen Alevi Cultural Centres and Cemevis that serve events and protests and support for all Alevi people in the UK. Dr Cetin states he’s seeing a positive development in terms of the second-generation starting to claim their identity and that a strong sense of community is what helped the religion “survive”. “Alevism doesn’t encourage individuals. It encourages collectivity”