Habs vs Feminism

Recently I saw a comment on facebook (see left) that I found troubling. The comment, still there at the time of writing over four hours since its original posting, reads "Why are all these feminists such freaks[?] :s" and is posted in response to a video that can be found here. What I find troubling is that this comes from a Habs Boy, a supposedly intelligent individual in the process of having his excellence nurtured. The comment, however, displays (at best) an ignorance of Feminism and a worrying ease at labelling all Feminists as freaks based on a video of one and at worst an active sexist attitude and dismissing of a (probably still misunderstood) Feminism movement. Granted the video goes over the top (to make a point, of course) and, if I am honest, I don't really find the analogy beyond the bit about salt at the start particularly amusing, which I imagine (despite the seriousness of the point she is making) was her intention. Anyway, that's all irrelevant because she, and other Feminists, are not freaks, regardless of whether the video goes over the top or is/is not funny. Of course that seems quite an obvious point. Trivial almost. And, indeed, it should be. The problem, however, is that it isn't. Not amongst a troubling number of people you encounter on social media and in real life but, more worryingly, it is also not the case, in my opinion, amongst many at Habs.

As part of my Introduction to Politics course, we had a lecture on Feminism, which (don't tell my lecturer this), I think was the only good lecture in the entire module. It more than made up for the mish-mash of Monty Python, jumping around and awful jokes that characterised the rest of his lectures. Clearly enthusiastic about the topic and passionate about the content of the lecture, it was a superb introduction to Feminism. At the beginning of the lecture he asked who would consider themselves as a Feminist and a very small number of students (not including myself) put their hands up. I had never thought about it, if I am honest. I never considered myself sexist, but I certainly did not want to associate myself with the much more radical notion of Feminism that I assumed was just 'Feminism'. By the end of the lecture, however, I was completely turned and ashamed of my prior ignorance of what Feminism was and my attitude towards it. The lecturer ended with the following sentence: "I don't believe that my daughter's life chances should be any different from my son's life chances because she is a girl, but because they are likely to be, that is why I am a Feminist." I am paraphrasing slightly, but I think it sums it up brilliantly but, more importantly for someone like me who was ignorant about Feminism and what it was, simply.

Why? Because I don't, for a minute, think that many would disagree with that sentence. When faced with the question of whether a sister, for example, should have different life chances just because she is a woman, I am fairly confident the vast vast majority of Habs Boys (including our "all feminists are freaks" friend) would think this a ridiculous question to ask. Of course our sisters' life chances should not be affected by their being a woman we would proclaim, unaware that we had just proclaimed to be Feminists. There are many strands, many different Feminist ideologies and many methods of achieving that goal, but that is the basic goal. The problem, however, is that many would then follow that with a, "But, they're women so, you know. Not as clever." or "They lack banter," or "But they'll end up in the kitchen, so why does it matter?" If reading that, as a Habs Boy, makes you uncomfortable then good - do something about it; if your instinct is to try and argue that it is not the case or deny the seriousness of it, I am afraid you are in denial. Whether or not we actually believed those things to be true, the ease at which we were able to say them and laugh them off was, when I look back at it now, shocking. As I have already said, I am ashamed of that, past, version of me. Habs Boys come to see a level of sexist "banter" as entirely acceptable, unaware of the fact that sexist jokes aren't just jokes, they have a knack of describing real situations that real woman face every day.

It is that comment that demonstrates this attitude towards Feminism: the ignorance of what it really is and the dismissing of those that are Feminists and the severity of the sexism that women face, which is, of course, in itself, sexist. The ease at which a Habs Boys can label 'all' Feminists as freaks based on a video arguing that a girl is never asking for it when it comes for rape, unfortunately, does not surprise me. I would hope the comment is aimed at the over the top nature of the video rather than the point she is making, but the belief that somehow making the point, in any manner, renders you a freak is troubling. Any prejudice, including sexism, is based on ignorance, an issue that needs addressing at Habs. If I had a chance to go back to Habs and lead an Open Day tour, I would inform parents that the biggest problem at Habs is the ignorance of Feminism and the levels of sexism (jokes or not) that are deemed acceptable.

Sometimes I feel disingenuous when I describe myself as a Feminist given events in my past, opinions I used to hold and arguments I have had (a discussion over Twitter with William Thong, who won't mind a mention and the opportunity to remind me what I was like, about an advert a particular haunting memory), almost as if they preclude me from being a Feminist now. I am glad for the lecture I had and the change in my beliefs. There is no shame in admitting you were wrong. There will forever be disagreements within Feminism and what it entails - the Page 3 debate (I can't decide if I agree with the 'me' that wrote that blog!) at Warwick a good example of this, perhaps, but at its bare bones, it is a very simple idea. I can only hope that one day the boy in question will stumble across something that will make him self-identify as someone who believes in, "...the radical notion that women are human beings," which is how Cheris Kramarae described Feminism, and not think of himself as a freak.

Update 1 16/06/14

Since posting this I have received far more of a response than I expected. I think what has happened is I have struck a few nerves and offended a few sensibilities - 'of course I am not sexist' has been repeated on the comments to my blog. To clarify, Habs is an example I used simply because I went there. It is not to say Habs is the only place this is a problem, nor an attack on the character of all current or former Habs Boys (many of whom I would still consider friends). It is simply an example.

In  any event, I do not, for a minute, doubt the sincerity of these 'I am not a sexist/I am a feminist' statements. If you read above, you will note above that I state Habs Boys would agree that a women's life chances should not be affected by her being a women - in other words, Habs Boys, in the main, would be Feminists on my definition. But then, I would have agreed and I, like many, did not act in a way to back up that agreement.

The issue is two-fold:

1. An ignorance of what Feminism really is

Whether this manifests because of an association of Feminism with solely more radical Feminism or merely a refusal to engage with Feminism, consciously or subconsciously.

2. A sexist culture

This is the crux of the issue. When I was at Habs I would never have considered myself sexist and had I come across a blog like this, I would have responded in exactly the same way as every Habs Boy who has posted on my blog has. In the least patronising way possible, I understand - no one wants to be labelled a sexist. However, we have to come to terms with it. There are countless examples - some highlighted in response to my blog - of Habs Boys making comments that were horrifically inappropriate and that cannot just be dismissed as a harmless joke. Of course, as was highlighted, a sense of humour is important but suggesting that the Habs Boys - banter = Habs Girls is just one example of a sexist "joke" that is not acceptable but was deemed acceptable. These sort of jokes perpetuate already strong stereotypes that are held amongst boys at all boys' schools like Habs that girls lack a sense of humour. When the head boy makes this joke, it legitimises the very real problem of dismissing cries of sexism as a girl's inability to take a joke. "Of course that was okay, it is just a joke, I'm not sexist - I don't actually believe that women all belong in the kitchen in chains to prevent their leaving." You know what, the last bit of that is invariably true, Habs Boys don't, I would argue, believe those things. However, in telling the joke and dismissing any offence caused as 'just an inability to take the banter' there is a subconscious sexism, a subconscious belief that if girls 'had banter' (if they were more like men), they would have laughed and not been offended. Undoubtedly sexist comments are rebranded as jokes, laughed at and approved of and culture where sexism is tacitly accepted as perfectly fine develops.

The problem is not unique to Habs, of course it is not. But there is an undoubted culture at the school where sexism is viewed as not an issue or ignored, leaving the boys all too ready to dismiss cries of sexism as misunderstandings and poor banter - as I once did, and as many currently and will continue to do.

Update 2 16/06/14

There are another two issues that need addressing after further comments on this post.

1. The example used

My choice of example as a springboard for this post has been criticised, both for misunderstanding the initial comment made and because the comment itself is not a bad example. I have two issues with this. Firstly it conveniently ignores the point of the article and attacks a premise that has no real bearing on the conclusion. Feminism and sexism remains an issue regardless of whether I understand that example properly or not and, indeed, I could have used a different example from my time at Habs. Second, I think the comment is quite a good reflection of the problem, if by no means the worse. The video is of a women making a serious point about rape and the response is that all these feminists are freaks. What an absurd response! I don't think the women makes her point in an especially amazing way, but it is a perfectly legitimate method of making a incredibly serious point. Attacking her character skirts around the real issue of rape and attempted justification - a serious one - and is just wrong for she is no eccentric.

2. I ignore a real issue of militant Feminism

Rejection of rape justification is not militant Feminism. Getting passionate in your speech against rape justification is not militant feminism. Rejection of rape justification is about as basic as you can get when it comes to Feminism, there is nothing militant about it. To suggest that somehow the initial comment was lamenting the plight of Feminism corrupted by its militant strands is remarkably offensive and avoiding the issue at hand. If militant Feminism was indeed the target, a video of a regular Feminist making a bog-standard point should not have been the one commented on. I, of course, dispute this was the target in the first place.*

It is hugely ironic that on a post and resulting thread about sexism at Habs that includes more than the one example I used initially, the anti-sexists and Feminists of Habs take issue not with the content of the blog, but the initial example I used. Apparently the real problem for many is not sexism but my example. Telling.

*Update 3 16/06/14: It should be noted that one of the comments this is in direct response to has since been clarified and I had misunderstood its intention. I am glad to have said comment in a message as now that I understand it fully, I can properly appreciate it. I leave these paragraphs here only in response to other comments that have been made without such clarification and as a general point about the mainstream nature of the video labelled as 'freaky'. As I point out, I do accept that the example I used is a small one and grant it may have been meant differently to how I took it (though such carelessness in commenting is also part of the issue). It is by no means the worst example (therein lies the problem) but its use, I feel, is still justified and demonstrative of the problem, whilst also being current and the initial motivation for the blog post.

Field Day 2k12

Unlike HABSMUN, this was probably a final thing I was looking forward to the end of. I've stuck at the CCF despite it trying its best to destroy me (the 36 hours of rain at Warcop Summer Camp a couple of years back springing to mind). While there have definitely been some excellent moments - an incident involving coco-buttering of someone's arse in a gay-off and coasteering stand out, it is something I will be glad to say I have completed. And this final field day is one step closer to finishing Habs CCF. I think the response to my relatively sarcastic, "I will miss spending time in a basha so close to the ground with you two," summed up my feelings: "I wouldn't say I'd miss it...but I'll look back upon it with happy memories." More on that later!

My final army field day started as any other one did, with a long wait. No surprise really, but it is something we have gotten used to in the Army Section, coining the unofficial motto, "Hurry up and wait." We refused to be put off by our coach turning up fashionably late and were in relatively high spirits as the darkness dropped down around us even if most of that was "WOOOO final field day". Having decided that we would actually do a proper tactical de-bus (pronounced de-bu) instead of screaming "BE TACTICAL", "THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A TACTICAL DE-BUS" and generally laughing at how untactical our tactical de-buses (pronounced de-bu-se), those on the back of the bus (i.e. U6) would remain there for a while as the slowest bus exist in history occurred. Finally off, I took the opportunity to look to the heavens and was disappointed when nothing but cloud revealed itself - I was hoping that in my many hours stood around being enemy, I could at least look at the stars and pretend to have a clue what was going on. A relatively swift walk followed with the army section's, or rather my, taste in music brought into question with classics such as "Never gonna give you up" and "I want it that way" being sung at whatever volume we thought we could get away with.

Having made it into camp in the dark (I am not sure I have ever set up camp when it has been light), it was time to start setting up. That meant, at least for myself, Tom and Luke, making our final basha together and we were determined to make this the lowest one ever so that it was nothing more than slipping between two sheets. I am not quite sure why we put ourselves through sleeping in really low basha's, which invariably break as we try and get into them, but it became something of a field day tradition. I think we succeeded as well, with our basha no more than a few inches of the ground, leaving for an interesting attempt at squeezing underneath it later. With shelter built, I whipped out my Jew Saus (sausage) and shared it around. No, it is not what you're thinking, dirty mind. Jew Saus is a kosher turkey sausage that has become something of a favourite with fellow cadets and I bring it along every field day. We were left to cook and eat before setting of on the night exercise. 

I was dropped off at the "radio mast" along with Chris and Vivek, as enemy told to defend it from a section who were trying to plant an IED. Quite why enemy would defend a radio mast that belonged to the camp and quite why a section would want to blow up what was effectively their radio mast is beyond me but defend it we would. Well, we'd lie down and try not to get too cold, with Vivek finding a particularly comfortable tree branch and practically fell asleep. Every so often we'd get up, have a wonder and talk really loudly about our plans just like any regular enemy would with no sign of the patrolling section. I managed to scream as a teacher approached and we ended the night telling ludicrous jokes. We did get IEDed having not spotted the section, but I really couldn't care less with my attentions firmly focused on the 6am wake up that morning as we were still waiting to be dropped back at 1am. 

Sleep was interesting. The customary "ooo are you happy to see me?" jokes were made and there was a lot of "I AM OUT THE TENT" as we rolled around to get comfortable. Having managed to get the middle spot, I could only look in with smugness as Luke and Tom struggled to stay inside a quickly breaking basha. I had also brought a pillow and was strangely comfortable, even if Tom decided to climb over me so he could take photos of the three of us with a basha sheet in our faces. We left Luke to wake up at 5, Tom and I decided that we were not need until 7, at the earliest. Despite Luke's protestations we did not surface until just after 7 - why we would need to wake up at 6, when we had to be ready by 8.10, I have no idea and I wasn't about to give up what little sleep I had! 

The basha in question

I was enemy again, which was bliss with no running around or physical activity needed, just an opportunity to fire off about 90 rounds from whatever position we wanted with an interesting one handed approach being taken by a couple of us. There isn't much to report other than we definitely defeated a pathetic platoon attack despite there only being 4 of us and we then had to wait around...

Rounds aplenty

...For a long time. In fact there was nothing for us to do from about 10.30ish until 2, so we tossed a rugby ball around, made some tea and tried to stay warm. It was a nice feeling - knowing that it was nearly over and I could return home for a lovely shower and my bed very soon. Field days are always tiring even though you don't really do that much and while they definitely have given me some fond memories, it is good to finally be done with them. With jokes about joining the OTC when we went to university a plenty, we boarded the coach home (which was early for once) and within about 30 minutes the usual head back, mouth opening sleeping position had been donned by many. With the final mad rush to make the 4.15 coaches for most, having arrived back at school at 3.55, came the end of my final field day. 4 years of CCF and at least I've made it to the final field day without being kicked out!

Haberdashers' Aske's Boys School Model United Nations 2012

Or HABSMUN for short. Picture the scene. Habs was being transformed from an excellence nurturing machine to a Model United Nations conference, birds were singing, Mr Simm's customary yellow trousers were out and Will Thong was rumoured to be firing a member of the committee for no apparent reason. Having successfully navigated the week, using HABSMUN as an excuse as much as possible, it was finally the Friday, the day it would all begin. The banter began before any delegate even arrived with Mr Pauletto or "duce", imploring us to not mention the war because a German school were coming. Clearly the famous Habs level of wit was out in full force in anticipation of a weekend of a debate. My road trip with David Gottlieb, which lasted all of 30 minutes, was much more fun with Gottlieb's driving providing much laughter. Suffice to say his driving isn't great and he managed to hit a car within 10 seconds of trying to exit his space, I was very worried. It didn't help that he then confessed he only passed recently before stalling twice trying to re-enter Habs.  

Upon our return, I walked around for a bit looking important and wondered if (or indeed when) I would ever have to actually do anything. Even as schools began arriving and the walkie talkies went mental as no one could find Rob Harris (a theme that continued the entire conference) I felt underwhelmed as Ollie Anisfeld did what he does best and that is muscle his way in control. But I think it went well - no one got lost and Will Thong was still alive, no mental breakdown in sight and, or so it seemed, relatively calm. Well compared to the preceding weeks anyway. It was nice to finally see delegates in committee, lobbying away and thus the conference actually beginning. Why we open the conference after lobbying begins I am not quite sure, but regardless the day I had been waiting for had finally arrived, opening speeches were made and safety announcements made, HABSMUN 2012 was soon to be declared open. Before that, however, I slowly made my way to somewhere never before ventured by the ordinary Habs boy and that is the Staff Common room.

What lay behind those doors? Was there a gym? A boxing ring? A swimming pool? A trouser press with "Property of Mr Simm" inscribed on it? Perhaps there was snooker table and football goal? Nothing of the sort - just some seats, a table and some drinks machines. There was, however, also a finger food buffet which was to be our lunch. Having established that seconds was allowed, I was not complaining and tucked into the most expensive part of the HABSMUN food bill. It was quite nice to escape the hustle and bustle of the conference while making casual small talk with advisors who were all to quick to compliment the PGAs on giving up their time and commend us on how much work we must do. 

Opening ceremony was nothing particularly special with yet another opportunity taken to make fun of my dress sense. It was discouraging to note how many delegates actually seemed to get the joke not that I was complaining about the attention. Without the musical delights of Ben Okafor and his hit "living in a suitcase", we were treated to George Grant who looked suspiciously like Boris Johnson's younger brother. Anyway, he rambled on for a bit (the irony) and we went home excited for the conference proper to start. 

All that standing around and listening to people was incredibly exhausting and I crashed out in bed at about 8.30 having left my computer on and music still playing. Saturday was a weird day for me. Other than having to chair ECOSOC for a bit as Ben went off to play football, there wasn't much for me to do. I spent the day in Disarmament (where my bow-tie, pocket square, socks and cuff-link combo impressed with another best dressed award heading my way) and did some general wondering around. I was waiting to hear my name over the radio for something to do, a problem to solve or a delegate to reprimand. Nothing of the sort happened and I was left to my own devices for the entire day, not that I was complaining. It did mean that I spent a lot of time randomly posing for pictures but that, I suppose, was much better than being sat in a committee room all day. It just seemed odd to be given a role that, apparently, is an organising one and then spend the entirety of the only full day of the conference walking around looking pretty. 

Having successfully done nothing for a day I was delighted to get the general consensus that everything was going well. I think Thong implication that the conference is a success for those on the organising committee if the delegates enjoy it could not be truer, and it seemed as though this was the case in the main. Saturday night was an interesting one. There was, apparently, an event at Proud which is apparently a "club", not that I have any idea what that is. This of course was completely unaffiliated with the school and I am not even sure anyone went to it, just showing how unrelated to HABSMUN it was. 

Having decided that I don't get enough jokes at my expense because of what I wear, I decided blinding as many people as possible was in order by wearing a golden jacket. Yes, golden. I was compared to a gay vicar and got a few negative "OMG"s but that was far outweighed by the numerous "I love your jacket" etc compliments that many girls gave me. So I wasn't too fussed. Hey, if I was worried about what people were going to say I wouldn't wear such outrageous clothing! I was delighted to finally be given a job to do - announce crisis to the Human Rights Committee which consisted in running in and screaming "CRISIS". A very enjoyable task! There was a small mutiny on the cards next as the PGAs asked, reasonably, if we may do the jobs we were selected for and actually chair General Assembly rather than watch the Sec-Gens do it.  Not amused, we tried to work out a compromise whilst I tried to ascertain how long I would have for lunch.  

The gold jacket in question

GA finally rolled around and it was time for my actual job to begin - repeatedly telling delegates to be quiet and delighting in finally, after 4 years of being annoyed when I hear it, saying the phrase "or I will be forced to suspend note-passing", something that occurred a few times. I enjoyed receiving bribes saying "here is some chocolate/haribo (etc), please recognise us" and sending back "I am afraid I am not eating sweets, chocolate, desserts etc and thus this bribe does not work". Nice to be in control I suppose. I was very happy, however, to receive Matzo from the Italian delegation, a bribe that I could eat. Not that I let it affect my judgement. GA was an interesting "committee" to chair - much louder and more difficult to control, obviously, than a regular one and the influx of bribes and interesting notes was difficult to cope with at times but nonetheless I really enjoyed it. 

General Assembly...nearly over :( 

I did not want to to end. Well I guess I didn't want HABSMUN to end, but I guess it had to. With the final resolution debated, the final votes counted and the final minor issue as Ollie Anisfeld managed to spill coffee all over the desk and certificates, we were just about ready to close the conference. You would have thought nothing, really, could go wrong. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't even Ollie Anisfeld that made the comment (although some of his jokes were questionable) with Omar Ali taking centre stage in a weird attack on the streets of Croydon. That aside, the conference was drawing to a close and I made an emotional, for me, last ever speech at a Model United Nations conference and had the honour of announcing the Outstanding delegation award. With the gavel banged, the delegates leaving and slightly tearful eyes, all that was left was to...

...Get hugs from as many people as possible. Literally everyone was subject to the "Random Hug?" to which the usual response is "erm, ok?" with most being shocked sufficiently so that their vocal chords no longer seem to work and they are forced to nod in agreement. There are a few that do jump at the opportunity to hug a man wearing a funny jacket and a bowtie, but they are a limited few. Even hugs failed to cheer me up as it dawned upon me that this was to be my final MUN conference. Forgive me for being cringe or a bit soppy but MUN has been something I have enjoyed for 4 years now and I think I am going to miss it. 

I never wanted to write this post. Quite simple really, this post means my Model United Nations career, if we are to call it a career, has now come to an end. I guess I'm just going to miss it; meeting new people; getting random hugs and, of course, winning best dressed delegate. The business of writing about this conference was difficult. It wasn't external, obviously, so there were no coach trip antics, no opportunities to demolish Chinese or Premier Inn buffets or get "lost" in a convenience store and buy some "batteries". But this was what made HABSMUN so special. It was nice to end on home turf, at the conference which introduced me to MUN 4 long years ago which resulted in me meeting so many wonderful people, getting so many wonderful hugs and spending such amazing times away from school. I guess all that remains to be said is thank you - thank you to everyone who made HABSMUN a success, to everyone that has made any conference I have ever been to a success, to everyone I have ever hugged and finally to everyone I have ever met at MUN. 

4 years later, numerous awards, many memories, some fantastic conferences and brilliant people met, it is time to call it a day on Model United Nations. Not that I want to. 

Bath International Schools Model United Nations 2012

Or BISMUN 2012 for short. This was to be my 3rd BISMUN, my 9th conference and my final external conference. I spent the week before the conference convinced that I would forget something, unable to quite figure out what it was that made my suitcase so full yet it still seem unnervingly as if I had not remembered to take something important. My dad, as usual, was no help suggesting "Brain and common sense" as two things that I may have forgotten and to ensure I remembered. Regardless of pre-conference nerves, which I was not used to, I was brimming with excitement as I finally tore off my CCF kit after our BGI (Biennial General Inspection - something that finally put to bed the "biannual/biennial" debate, with the latter meaning every two years) and headed to the coach park to begin our complicated coach, train, tube and train journey to Bath. 

We already knew we'd miss lobbying and a very young Habs team of delegates made their way to Strada for dinner having successfully navigated London's underground system and safely made it to Bath having only lost Ashwin twice. Strada brings back very awkward memories for me as my lack of subtleness struck once more as I may have inadvertently called two women lesbians. Anyway, with the staff locating us away from any other customers on the second floor, I was saved from myself and we ordered our food. This, for some reason, made me incredibly happy and in the lull between the main course/dessert and getting the bill I managed to be in hysterics for about 45 minutes. Nothing particularly funny was said either - I made a terrible knock knock joke which prompted Daniel to attempt one. "Knock knock" - Daniel..."Come in" - Raph. I found my comic genius simply hilarious and spent the next 45 minutes trying in vain to stop laughing out loud. Dan eventually told me the joke, but I can only remember how funny I found my "come in" comment and can't, for the life of me, remember the joke. 

We finally made it to the Premier Inn, where we were very disappointed to learn that Lenny Henry was not going to be staying. I was delighted to get my first hug of the conference and amazed that this hug resulted in my complete lifting off the floor with relative ease. I have spent the last month claiming to have lost weight. This, if nothing else, is vindication of those claims! Without so much as a KFC for dessert we were ushered to bed and I was very disappointed to lose the "Rock, paper, scissors" meaning I would have to make do with the single bed. No ladies back to the room for me then. I was strangely nervous at this point. I felt like I did before my first BISMUN, actually my first external conference, and really did not know what to expect. For the first time since that first BISMUN, I feared that I wouldn't enjoy it, something I was desperate to do. 

The traditional "All you can eat" breakfast buffet challenge greeted us the next morning. Having made the fundamental error of leaving the unstoppable eater James Zhao back at Habs, we did not feel as confident of putting the Premier Inn out of business and even I only managed 3 croissants, 2 crumpets, 5 pieces of toast, some fruit and a cup of tea. Undeterred by this oversight on our part we departed for the conference with the young team in high spirits, expectant of a good weekend of debate with the promise of the Chinese Buffet upon our arrival back at the hotel. 

Committee, as I have always said, is a very personal experience and I do not intend to bore you with all the details of my committee. I will, however, say that I got straight back into the swing of things, really enjoy it and (dare I say it) impressed a few with my interesting sense of dress. I also had the pleasure of joining forces with Palestine to solve the Israeli-Palestine problem, giving Palestine full UN membership with Israeli approval. No mean feat! Finally, however, what any BISMUN veteran actually attends the conference for: the Saturday night Chinese Buffet. I very much go by the "All you can eat" equating to a challenge to "eat all of it" and set about destroying plate after plate of Chinese food. The other events of Saturday night are best left at the Premier Inn, but suffice to say we didn't merely go to sleep...

Sunday morning began with the traditional buffet followed by an education. Not in debating, current affairs or world politics but in women and make-up. Having made ill-advised comments regarding make-up stating "you look the same" and the like, I spent the next 15 minutes witnessing the process a girl has to go through to go from "wake up" to "looking suitable to go out". Having applied mascara twice, used two different brushes and various creams and bottles of squidgy stuff, there was little difference that I could see. I did make the mistake of telling her that, but regardless...at least I was honest?!

I shall once again gloss over the events of committee, perhaps merely stating that I was delighted with one particular POI that I made. OH! And I won Best Dressed Delegate AGAIN. 9th conference in a row. Just saying. It is lunch that I am more keen to mention. Of course I am always happy when lunch time comes around - I mean food!, but the end of lunch proved particularly enjoyable. It was requested that for the purposes of this note, the girl in question remained nameless and I shall not go back on my promise. I will mention she found herself in a "sticky situation" and see if anyone gets the pun. Anyway, one of her friends sat down and within about 10 minutes declared I was "she who shall not be named"'s type. Intrigued I asked for clarification and it appears my "slight" arrogance, middle eastern origin, tallness and humour made me "she who shall not be named"'s type. Needless to say I enjoyed this, the girl in question was clearly incredibly embarrassed and I was just flattered. I shall move past GA. Habs did very well as usual, returning with numerous awards including Best Young Delegate at the conference, an award we retain for the 2nd successive year. I am delighted to say that I managed to go the entire conference without breaking a table, something that, on personal level at least, I am very proud of! 

Perhaps, as usual, I should end with a few messages:

1. MUN is a truly fantastic activity that I would encourage everyone to get involved with. 

2. Take advantage of all you can eat buffets, but don't forget the biggest eater at home!

3. Hugs are the way forward. 

4. Trying to get one over on someone never works (I guess only I know what I mean here)

5. Never waste an opportunity to do an MUN conference.

6. Always match your (bow) tie, socks, cufflinks and pocket square. 

7. There is nothing wrong with being concerned with your dress.

I also wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you. I have had a wonderful 9 conferences and will really really miss it. Thank you to everyone I have met, to everyone I have debated with/against, to everyone who has ever given me a hug or made me smile or delivered a funny speech. I will always look back at my MUN "career" with fond memories, remembering speeches, awards, hugs and people and I am truly grateful to anyone and everyone who has made MUN as amazing as it was. I am gutted that Bath will be my last external conference but look forward to HABSMUN next week where I will bring my MUN career to a close on Home Turf ending at the conference I began at. Thank you all, I love you all and to all those I will never see again, good luck!