Interview with Mark Jenkins

By Joe Robinson

'All work and no play' is a maxim that Mark Jenkins, Head of Sports and Recreation at Bournemouth University, believes strongly in. “Students these days don’t do enough to keep fit” he claims, and so he has made it his mission to do something about it. Mainly by using this little anecdote to get extra money for the Departments budget.
Mark has been in his current role as at the university since July 2004, after coming from a background in Local Authority Sport/Recreation, and has been fighting a progressive battle to try and bring the Universities “unfit” facilities up to scratch, with only 4 Sports Degrees at the University, the department has been largely neglected in the past. Since taking over from the previous regime, Mark has managed to increase the sport department’s budget (and expenditure) in recent years, gaining an extra 80 grand in the last academic year alone. With the Vice-Chancellors new 'Corporate Plan' currently in progress, Mark sees this as a golden opportunity to gain some much-needed investment.
Not surprisingly, Mark also has a quite active Sports History, having been a competitive swimmer from the age of 11 through to most of his young life. Unfortunately, since leaving collage, Marks time as been sparse, and so he has had to let his passion lax in recent years, especially since Bournemouth lacks its own Swimming pool. These days, Mark takes a more 'business' view on sport, He may not know who England is facing next in the championships, but he’ll make sure you have a pitch to re-play the match on.
The bit Mark most enjoys about his work is seeing a well-thought out plan come to fruition, and with development plans such as the new playing fields at Wallisdown, the creation of a third generation Astropitch, and new sports facilities well in the works, Mark has a lot of ‘enjoyment’ to be had.
What has been Marks greatest Success? Convincing the University that having the County Sports Partnership based at the University would be a good thing. Having come from the Dorset Initiative himself, he knew how trapped the Partnership was by the 'political interference' of Local Government. Bringing the Partnership to the university not only freed it from the clutches of the LA, but also made a perfect excuse for an extension to Bournemouth’s existing facilities.
What does the future hold for Mr Jenkins? Despite enjoying his time here at University, the poor standard of Bournemouth’s facilities trouble him deeply, and if the funding for his projects isn’t granted, he may have to give the local Jobcentre a quiet visit.

Memoirs of an old geeser

Bob Lopton’s earliest memory is travelling into Preston on a tram in 1935, aged 3, and seeing the town’s first traffic jam.
Preston was luckier then most towns during war. The only difficulty that faced Bob whilst growing up was living with his five siblings. There was only his mother to support them, as his Father had died years earlier.
Bob would spend a lot of his time playing football with his mates, “bending it like Beckham before Beckham was even born”.
Bob’s family never had much money, but he still grew up and made a living for himself as a Printing Press manufacturer, a career that lasted him his entire working life. He also found himself a wife, and had a son and a daughter. The boy has gone into the same profession as he did.
Even though Bob retired 12 years ago, his later life has been dotted with tragedy. His eldest Brother died in a car crash in 1992, and his wife died in 2003. Sadly, his wife’s Brother also died that exact same day, after a major operation. Regardless, Bob persevered and has been enjoying his retirement since.
When asked what he liked to do with his time, “as little as possible”, was the reply. This includes taking walks along the sea front with friends, and visiting places like Bournemouth.
As a piece of advice before he left, Bob warned me against the dangers of smoking – mainly because it costs so much, but also you might, well, die. His wife had smoked, he hadn’t.

By Joe Robinson

A Life in the Day of....

19-year-old Joe Robinson had always enjoyed his life as a student, despite his problem of actually getting up. If not sat in front of a computer writing essays, chatting on MSN, or fighting barbarians, Joe would also be found in the common room reading a book, or 'philosophising' with his friends. Joe is currently studying for a Journalism Degree at Bournemouth University.

I’m not really a “morning” person, never was. I would get woken up by my alarm, have a few blissful seconds before I realised what was going on, and then fall back asleep to the echoes of “5 more minutes”. It would then be half an hour later and I would be running late - crap. So, amidst cursing God and my alarm for not doing anything, I would speed-dress myself, grab my bag and be out of the door before you could do the Macarena.
The walk to school would always be pleasant. It would just be me, my music, and the path. Walking is one of the few things that I actually like doing alone; the solitude can be very relaxing, even if the scenery is just the borough you live in. I keep a brisk pace, since I dislike hanging around if I’m going from A to B, so 20 minutes later I would find myself striding through the gates of school, forming an apology to my tutor for being late. It’s the space-time continuum miss, honest.
School itself was always good, and I worked hard when need be. I’ve always liked school. The learning part anyway, socially I was mainly a bit of a misfit, often bullied in what I refer to as the “black years”, and still a bit weary of people by the time I hit sixth form, but I found good friends. I really enjoyed my subjects in sixth form; Philosophy was one of my favourites. Arguing back and forth on a point could be fun, especially if you pissed of a particular classmate in the process. We would always have the best arguments.
First break would be at 11:15, so straight down to the near-by garage for a sausage bap, The Guardian, and a bottle of Dr. Pepper, what’s the worst that could happen? Back in the day we would normally organise football matches in our breaks, but then they shortened them, so instead we spent our time up in the common room, relaxing, conversing, and loosely acting like the adults we were expected to be.
In my final year of 6th form, I only had about 2/3 lessons a day tops, so that would mean free periods. Usually I would spend these in the common room, reading a book, unless I had work to do. I love reading, always have. It’s the stories. I love the way they’re told, the way they’re written, the way the author tries to connect with the readers, and the big battle scene at the end.
When school was over I would walk home, sometimes with a friend who lives on the way, sometimes not, either way I would soon find myself back home. Once through the door, I would always surgically implant myself in front of my PC, and not move until it was dinner - I liked my PC. I play my favourite computer games on the PC. My PC is also an essential link to what I call my ‘Social life’, spelt M.S.N. MSN is great, without it I wouldn’t be able to talk to the people I had seen only hours before, or the people who I don’t often get to see. At some point my family would come home, and provided I wasn’t engrossed in defeating a barbarian horde on the shores of Asia Minor, they would get a short grunt by way of hello, and then that would generally be it until we met at dinner.
Usually we would just eat the food where we like, or in the front room watching TV, but sometimes my mum would use the big table in the dining room, where we would sit, eat, talk about our respective days, and so on. I love my family; I probably wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for them. After dinner it would be back to the hordes, unless I got bored, then it would be MSN until I went to bed. At some point I might try to do some work, but it rarely went well, I get distracted too easily. I’m a bit of a ‘last-minute’ kind of guy anyway.
I would generally try to be in bed by about 11, since I would have had school or work the next day, although half an hours reading was always a tradition. The morning would bring a new day, which I would vaguely acknowledge as I rushed out the door, late again.

‘I would get woken up by my alarm, have a few blissful seconds before I realised what was going on, and then fall back asleep to the echoes of “5 more minutes”.’