If you picked up a copy of the New Year issue of Label, then you will have seen Holly Duerden’s fantastic, winning piece for our ‘New Beginnings’ Creative Writing Competition. We had quite a few good entries, so we wanted to display the runner ups, which were judged by our Head of Media, Helen Crossley.



Do you remember?
As a child, when everything seemed so tall.
That memory isn’t real. You’ve altered it from when you were small.

Things change.
Juice turns into wine.

And the alcohol begins to pour and this really seems like the time

When all your wishes can come true.

But don’t let the world take hold of you.

Your memories aren’t true, and new ones will be made.

Of summers stuck up in the shade.

But no memory is as real as the present seems to feel.

But please begin to question, look around and ask, is it real?

Lewis Wood



“Research has shown”


“Within the world of”


“In Linguistics, there”


“Christ, why is this so hard?!” He shouts at the screen.

“Having trouble?”

Mary’s in the doorway, standing innocently.

 “I’ve spent 3 hours on one sentence.” He grumbles, looking back down.

“Sounds difficult.”

“You’re telling me,” his eyes scan his plan again.

“Doesn’t explain why you haven’t noticed what I’m wearing.”

He looks up, startled. His eyes bulge, and she runs off, laughing.

For a second, he’s paralysed. Then, he looks back at his work, and yells. “How the hell am I supposed to begin this now?”

Alex Davies



New People, New Places, New smiling faces.

New friends, New bed, New topics read.

New family, New halls, New 4 walls.

New bubble, New town, New class clown.

New Rag, New Riches, New dirty dishes.

New Action, New heroes, New bank balance zeroes.

New union, New Exec, New bursary cheque.

New campus, New Gym, New recovery swim.

New games, New teams, New career dreams.

New exams, New tests, New music requests.

New life. Same you. Up to you what you do.

Mike Hawkes



I think we should rename it to ‘Same Year.’ Or ‘Take Two Thousand and X.’ The problem with calling it ‘new’ is that nothing is new. We employ the same celebratory rituals; we drink, we dance, we kiss at midnight and then we sleep. We have the same hopes, the same fears; the same anticipation of alteration for this year as we had for the last. We usher in January, and soothe its disappointment in February when we look at the change that hasn’t taken place.

Jen Brook


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