Classy

It was like, classy. Untouched by all the trends. Secure in its reputation. Content to be what it was and nothing more. Not panickedly casing trends. Not reinventing itself as a new media college or a digital economy hub. Not about to close down all the arts and humanities, just like that. Not chasing the overseas students dollar.

Allowing academics doing their academic thing. Solo researchers, to do their solo scholarly stuff.

Administrators didn’t rule the place. Management speak wasn’t ubiquitous.

A sense of intellectual history. Of tradition. A little bit stuffy, but that’s okay.

With fine Victorian buildings at the university’s core. There’s even a quadrangle … Even a Victorian tower, amidst the dreadful 60s blocks …

 

It wasn’t actually ashamed to be a uni.

It actually had a library. With, like books in. That wasn’t all empty space and disco music.

It had, like a senior common room. And a junior one. They had a staff bar.

No one wore jeans. Trainers.

It didn’t have to frantically self themselves at Open Days. The institution sold itself. Respectable. Was itself. Didn’t have some trendy bollocks animated website. It didn’t need one.

Its great buildings. Well maintained. Newly repointed. There was an actual sense of place. Of genius locii. That this wasn’t just some business park. It wasn’t some glorified adult ed college.