Latest news with #UniversityofGlasgow
Scotsman
7 hours ago
- Scotsman
The postcard-perfect Scottish university campus that's been named among Europe's most beautiful
Scottish university campus among Europe's prettiest Sign up to our Scotsman Rural News - A weekly of the Hay's Way tour of Scotland emailed direct to you. Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Europe's most beautiful university campuses have been named by a travel magazine – and one of Scotland's oldest universities has made the cut. Air France's digital publication, EnVols, selected eight stunning destinations to visit for 'an original experience this summer'. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad A student walks on campus at Glasgow University. Picture: Andy Buchanan/AFP via Getty Images Introducing the feature, the magazine said: 'Study in a castle, browse the collections of a baroque library, stroll through postcard-perfect gardens… That's what Europe's most beautiful university campuses have to offer. 'True cultural treasures, these prestigious places of learning have seen the likes of Oscar Wilde and Albert Einstein pass through their doors. This summer, discover these exceptional institutions.' The campus of the University of Glasgow was the only Scottish location to make the list. Justifying its inclusion, EnVols said: 'Nestled on the banks of the River Kelvin, the University of Glasgow is one of the city's most charming locations. One of the UK's leading educational establishments, it was founded in 1451 under James II of Scotland. 'Its iconic clock tower overlooks lush gardens with the river running through them. The main building houses the Hunterian Museum. It features collections of minerals, fossils and an exhibition devoted to Charles R. Mackintosh, a major figure in Scottish Art Nouveau.' Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad The only other British campus to make the cut was Oxford University. EnVols said of the legendary institution:'Its history dates back to 1096, and its reputation has only ever grown since. With 39 colleges spread across the city, it is home to more than 25,000 students in fields as varied as philosophy, fine arts and political science. 'Inside the campus, you'll find the famous Radcliffe Camera, the majestic circular library, the Sheldonian Theatre designed by Christopher Wren and of course vast English gardens. 'The campus is also home to a number of museums, including the Ashmolean, the second oldest university museum in the world. And let's not forget fans of the Harry Potter saga, who will be in heaven when they visit the campus, as several scenes were filmed in Oxford buildings.' Make sure you keep up to date with news from across Scotland by signing up to our free newsletter here. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Trinity College in Dublin also features, with EnVols saying its 'movie atmosphere' makes it a 'must-see destination'.
Daily Record
10 hours ago
- Health
- Daily Record
Student dentist from Ayrshire showcasing her journey to qualified practitioner in new social media series
Sophie Caldwell, a student at the University of Glasgow, is taking part in 1to5 project to inspire other dentists. A student dentist from Ayrshire is showcasing her journey from graduation to qualified practitioner in a new social media series she hopes will inspire future dentists. Sophie Caldwell, 24, is taking part in a social documentary project alongside five other doctors and dentist from across the United Kingdom. The 1to5 project is the brainchild of the Medical and Dental Defence Union of Scotland (MDDUS), a mutual organisation that represents the professional interests of 67,000 doctors and dentists. The 1to5 posts on Instagram are designed to amplify the voices of students as they receive their final exam results, balance life inside and outside of work, and navigate new professional challenges and responsibilities after graduation. Sophie, a student at the University of Glasgow, said she aims to use her experience on 1to5 as a way to chart her own growth, as well as providing encouragement and inspiration for other dentists. She said: "Through my social media content I want to give an authentic glimpse into the life of a new dentist. "Throughout the year, I will be highlighting triumphs, addressing fears, and sharing practical advice. "I'm looking forward to sharing this journey and growing both professionally and personally." It is essential for all doctors and dentists to have indemnity or insurance cover to protect them against complaints that may arise during their career. As well as discretionary indemnity, MDDUS provides its members with 24/7 access to expert advice and an extensive programme of risk training and CPD resources. MDDUS chief executive, Chris Kenny, said: "I am delighted to welcome Sophie to the 1to5 project and excited to follow her journey. "We know that the adjustment from student to qualified practitioner can be a challenge for every foundation grade doctor and dentist. "By amplifying the voices of talented new practitioners we hope to inspire future students and help them to connect to others navigating the rewards and pressures of the healthcare sector."
Glasgow Times
12 hours ago
- General
- Glasgow Times
The beautiful Glasgow buildings all designed by one man
So, if the same name keeps cropping up, you tend to notice – it can be a hint as to this person's significance to the history of the city. This happened recently with the name Honeyman. It wasn't a name I had heard much before, but once I started digging it didn't take long to understand why different researchers would be interested in this person who would turn out to have made quite a mark on the city's landscape. John Honeyman was born at 21 Carlton Place in Glasgow on August 11, 1831. He obtained an arts degree from the University of Glasgow and trained as an accountant for a year in London. Upon his return to Scotland, he apprenticed as an architect with Alexander Munro and by the early 1860s had set up his own practice. While he would design buildings for locations across Scotland, there is a particularly high number in Glasgow, ranging from churches and schools to commercial offices and private villas. Lansdowne Church (Image: Glasgow City Archives) Perhaps the most famous Honeyman building in the city, the Lansdowne United Presbyterian Church was built on Great Western Road at the Kelvin Bridge. Upon its opening in 1863, this Gothic Revival church was described by this newspaper's sister title the Glasgow Herald as 'a notable ornament.' Still standing proudly today, the church is now known as the Lansdowne Parish Church and boasts A-listed status. Over his career Honeyman would build 16 churches in Glasgow, including the Italianate baroque-style United Presbyterian Church by Cathedral Square (1878-80) and the Classical renaissance-style Westbourne Free Church in Westbourne Gardens (1880-81). Rockvilla School, c1964 (Image: Glasgow City Archives) Honeyman designed three schools as part of the School Board of Glasgow's big push to build in the late 19th century. Between 1874 and 1877 came Tureen Street School in Calton, Henderson Street School in Woodside and Rockvilla School in Hamiltonhill. The latter was a particularly grand imposing building, sitting atop a hill at the corner of Dawson Street and Possil Road. While the building has gone, standing at this same corner you can still see the two gated entrances with the words 'Boys' and 'Girls' etched into the rock, indicating the school's separate entrances. The Ca'd'Oro in 1978 (Image: Glasgow City Archives Special Collections) It's hard to believe this beautiful Venetian Renaissance-style building began life as a furniture warehouse for the firm F & J Smith. A feast for the eyes, there was something for everyone thanks to the different styles of windows, the cast iron detailing and the decorated columns across multiple floors. Over the years it has hosted a ballroom, gallery, bakery, tearoom and several restaurants – including the Ca' D'Oro in 1927, by which name the building is now largely known. Sadly, a fire in 1987 destroyed much of the building although the cast iron frame survived and the building was later restored, gaining A-listed status along the way. Notwithstanding the variety of commissions, most of Honeyman's buildings were domestic in nature. For example, another A-listed building in his Glasgow roster is the classical villa Craigie Hall. Featuring Italianate detailing and Ionic columns, this two-story villa was built in 1872 for the merchant Joseph McLean. Postcard of Fairfield Shipbuilding Company Offices and factory, Govan Road, 1908. (Image: Glasgow City Archives Special Collections) Despite the prolific buildings Honeyman designed in the 1860s and 1870s, by the mid-1880s work had dried up and he was struggling financially. He partnered with the young John Keppie to form Honeyman & Keppie, a firm which would go on to build the Fairfield Shipbuilding Company Offices, the Glasgow Herald building and the Daily Record building. Many of their designs include the clear influence of Charles Rennie Mackintosh, who was a senior assistant at the company before he became a third partner in 1901. Due to his deteriorating eyesight, Honeyman retired in January 1901 although he continued advising on projects after this date. As well as co-founding the Glasgow Architectural Society and working with the Glasgow Improvement Trust, he wrote many pieces on his wider interests including public health and archaeology.
Middle East Eye
20 hours ago
- Politics
- Middle East Eye
German court rules ban preventing Palestinian surgeon from speaking is illegal
A Berlin court has ruled that a gag order preventing award-winning British-Palestinian surgeon Ghassan Abu Sittah from speaking in Germany is unlawful, Al Jazeera reported on Tuesday. Abu Sittah was detained and deported at Berlin Airport in April 2024 when he was on his way to give a talk at the Palestine Congress. Abu Sittah is currently Rector of the University of Glasgow.
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Health
- Yahoo
I was 17 when my boyfriend pulled out chunks of my hair. His abuse still haunts me at 43
As I sit in the hairdresser's chair, she lifts some strands of hair to look at the condition, and I freeze. I can already feel beads of sweat starting to form on my back. She asks, 'Been a while since you've had it cut?' I nod. It's been 10 months. I say, 'I've got a sensitive scalp, so can you be careful while washing it, please?' What I don't tell the hairdresser is that I dread anyone touching my head because 25 years ago, the man I loved ripped chunks of hair out while he was throwing me down the stairs. All because I didn't tell him I was going on a night out. For years, I wouldn't set foot inside a salon without taking a beta blocker I was prescribed by my GP for situational anxiety. I grit my teeth as she lathers the shampoo, trying not to think of the sharp pain and tingling I was left with when he yanked my hair so hard that he left me with a bald spot. It has got easier to deal with my hair being touched by strangers, but I never expected painful memories to be triggered so long after the relationship had ended. According to the charity Safe Lives, two-thirds of domestic abuse survivors experience post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) – more than twice the rate experienced by soldiers in combat. New research from the University of Glasgow has found that women who experienced physical abuse in the context of domestic violence risk ongoing mental health disorders despite the exposure to domestic violence having ceased, on average, 27 years before assessment. I met Colin at work when I was 17, and he was 33 (which, to everyone except me, was a huge red flag). I thought I was wise beyond my years, and Colin was everything I was looking for in a mate: strong, funny, intelligent and charming. After a few months of working together, we shared our first kiss on the way home from after-work drinks. He showered me with affection and attention; when we weren't at work, he called and texted constantly, which was flattering at first. Our relationship escalated quickly, and we were living together within three months. It took about six months before Colin became violent, but in the meantime, he had begun to manipulate and control every aspect of my life in ways that were nearly imperceptible at the time. We shared a bank account, but I was scatty and kept 'losing' my debit card, so he persuaded me it would be easier for him to give me a weekly cash allowance. I now think Colin was hiding my card all along. We worked together, so we spent every waking moment in each other's company. He would subtly belittle me in front of colleagues, picking on my insecurities and reinforcing every negative thought I ever had about myself. He poisoned me against my family (who could sense early on that he was bad news), causing an estrangement that would take years to heal. When my friends invited me out, he would guilt me into staying home, often claiming to be unwell. Friends stopped reaching out, and I became increasingly reliant on Colin. As this was my first serious relationship, I had no frame of reference or clue that his behaviour was troubling. The first act of violence happened at Christmas. Colin was sick with the flu, and I'd decided to go to the office Christmas party on a whim without telling him. When I returned to our flat, I discovered I was locked out. I battered at the door, and when Colin opened it, I saw his face twisted into a shape I didn't recognise. He was drunk, and I knew immediately that he was going to hurt me. He hissed, 'You've been with another man, haven't you, you sl-t?' as he grabbed me by the hair and threw me down a short flight of stairs. I banged my head hard, and it took me a minute to get back on my feet. When I did, Colin was standing before me with a chunk of my hair in his hand. Sobbing, I told him, 'I was at the Christmas party, ask anyone in the office,' but he just kept calling me a sl-t. I staggered down the stairs and into the cold December night. I had no idea where to go, I wasn't speaking to my parents, I didn't have any friends I could call. I just sat at a bus stop and wept. After about an hour, I heard footsteps and saw Colin. I cowered, thinking he was going to hurt me, and he started crying. 'I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know what came over me. I am so scared you're going to leave me.' He knelt at my feet and begged for forgiveness, and I found myself comforting him, even after what he'd done to me. He was a master manipulator and lured me back with promises that he'd change, and it would never happen again. But it did. We lived together peacefully for months at a time, then, as soon as he'd drunk too much or had a hard day, the violent rage would return. I lived in hypervigilance, barely talking in case I said something that would trigger Colin's rage. I lived in shame, not telling anyone about the abuse because I believed what was happening to me was my fault. I drank heavily, sank into a deep depression and would often feel disappointed to wake up in the morning. People ask, 'Why didn't you leave?' and I did try. The main issue was that I had nowhere to go. Shelters were full, I still wasn't in a good place with my family, and I had no money. When I did pluck up the courage to leave at age 20, he threatened to take his own life unless I came back to him, another manipulation tactic. In the end, it took three aborted attempts before I left for good, after one final eruption of violence that left me physically scarred and fearing for my life. When I left, I told him if he ever contacted me again, I would phone the police, and he could see that I meant it. I arrived on my parents' doorstep with my life in two bin bags and my mental health in tatters. Leaving was the easy part. Living with what had happened to me was much harder. I lived in a state of near-permanent anxiety and had flashbacks at unexpected moments, like in the hairdresser's chair when my head jerked back as the brush found a tug in my hair. I was right back to that December night, cowering in fear, my scalp on fire. When I had a wisdom tooth extraction, I couldn't look at myself in the mirror for over a week because my swollen, bruised face reminded me of a previous attack. I tried to push the memories down and get on with my life. After some time by myself, I started dating again, but found myself not only distrusting the men I met, but also my instincts. I had initially fallen for what I thought was a great guy, who turned out to be anything but, and was worried I was a terrible judge of character. However, at 21, I met Ronnie, a sweet man who was gentle, kind and understanding. We were married within six months of meeting, much to the surprise of everyone who knew us. I rushed into marriage partly to draw a line under my past because this new relationship came with a new surname and a move to a different city. My husband encouraged me to seek therapy because he had grown up in an abusive household and knew the lasting impact domestic violence could have. I had six sessions of NHS therapy and was diagnosed with PTSD, but that short course of treatment didn't 'fix' me. The therapy brought up a lot of intense and painful emotions, and I felt like I'd never be able to move past what happened to me. I didn't sleep properly for weeks after therapy finished. I felt hopeless and withdrew from my husband and my family, calling in sick to work and spending my days locked in the house, scared to go outside. I began to drink quite heavily one afternoon, pulling all the booze out to the cupboards that I could find. I wanted the pain to go away, and I would do anything I could to make it stop. I started raiding the medicine cabinet for painkillers, popping two handfuls of paracetamol into my mouth and washing them down with wine. I wanted to die. At first, I felt relieved; my pain would soon be over. Then I thought of my family and the people who loved me. I couldn't face the thought of living any more, but I wasn't ready to leave them. I called my husband and told him what I'd done, and he rushed home from work to take me to the hospital, where I promptly threw up all over the waiting room. After some blood tests, the hospital discharged me with a number for the crisis team, whom I was to check in with for the next few weeks, and who encouraged me to be more open with loved ones about how I was feeling. I hadn't been honest about the extent of the abuse, even with my family, so I sat them down and explained how bad things had been, and why I had decided that death was preferable to living with the pain. They were shocked, but started to understand more about how that relationship had forever altered me. Sharing my story with them helped to unload some of the shame I had felt over the relationship. I thought I had deserved what had happened to me, that I had provoked Colin to behave like that, but it was never my fault. I went back to suppressing my pain, mainly by drinking too much. My marriage ended after three years, partly because I had a paranoid mistrust of my husband. Every time my husband did something nice, I felt there had to be an ulterior motive because Colin was never kind for no reason. I've worked hard to rebuild my life after abuse, but have struggled with romantic relationships. Giving so much space and energy to mistrusting and second-guessing a potential partner's every move was exhausting, and I knew I needed to take a break from dating. I haven't been in a long-term relationship since my mid-20s. However, I am open to dating in the future. I've attended therapy on and off for years and began seeing a regular therapist in 2022, who referred me for specialist trauma therapy called eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing (EMDR). Instead of talking in detail about a distressing issue, EMDR instead focuses on changing the emotions, thoughts or behaviours that result from a distressing experience. Change didn't happen overnight, but the trauma no longer affects me as viscerally as it once did. I thought I was doing much better, but then, last November, I found out Colin had died. You'd think I'd be relieved. It was over; he could never hurt me again. I made an emergency therapy appointment because I found that I was sad about his death. I couldn't understand why until the therapist explained I had spent a lot of our early sessions saying, 'If only he had changed, maybe we could have been happy,' but that was a fantasy. I could never have forced Colin to change; he had to decide to change on his own. Perhaps I was mourning a version of him that didn't exist. Since Colin's death, I feel like I've turned a corner, mainly because the monster who haunted my nightmares wouldn't be coming back to get me. I am taking care of myself a lot better now; I quit drinking eight years ago and am trying my best to shed the heavy weight of past abuse and rebuild trust in others. I'm dating again, but I'm not putting any pressure on myself to find 'the one'. My life revolves around my friends, family, and my dog, a three-year-old spaniel named Bonnie, who gives me a reason to get outside as much as possible, which massively benefits my mental health. Things are less fraught when I go for a haircut, thanks to deep breathing exercises and restricting my trips to the hairdresser to twice a year. I hope I'll get to a point where the pain of the past won't be my whole narrative but rather a line in a chapter of my life story. Perhaps one day I will even enjoy trips to the salon. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
