By Teah Gillingham, edited by Tom Guyton-Day
By Garion Wakley, edited by Martha Evans
We caught up with local full-time musician, Natt Davis, to understand how recent lockdown restrictions have brought the live music industry to a standstill.
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Then the headquarters of the British Army wrote to Wellington telling him that the light dragoon uniform was changing. The blue trousers and jacket were staying, but instead of white detailing, the jacket was now to have a broad plastron in the regimental colour. A plastron is a piece of cloth that covers the front of a jacket, being buttoned down both sides and along the top. This annoyed Wellington as from the front the jacket no longer looked blue, but red, yellow, white or whatever the regimental colour might be.
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The problem here was that Wellington was facing not only French troops, but also those of the allies of the French such as the Neapolitans, Wurttemburgers, Bavarians and so forth. The light cavalry of these states wore jackets of a variety of colours. Confusion was almost inevitable.
Even worse, HQ wanted to get rid of the Tarleton helmet and replace it with a shako that flared out at the top. The shako was made of felt with a leather peak. This was considerably less effective at giving the wearer protection against enemy sabres, but it was the shape that annoyed Wellington. The new-style light cavalry shako was exactly the same shape as that of the French light cavalry. Combined with the new plastron, the shako gave the British light cavalry a very similar appearance to their enemies.
Wellington was furious.
He fired off an immediate reply pointing out that the light cavalry often operated miles from the main army as they scouted around. It was essential, he said, that the uniform of the light cavalry could be recognised at a distance – often several miles away. The old all-blue uniform with Tarleton helmet was quite unlike anything else in Spain. But the new plastron and shako uniform could easily be mistaken for many other light cavalry uniforms worn by the enemy.
Army HQ was unmoved – possibly in part because the Prince Regent loved the more modern and more colourful uniform. Correspondence went back and forth, but in the end the new uniforms were issued in time for the campaigning season of 1813.
The point at issue here had been the appearance of the uniform – and in particular its appearance at a distance. Wellington was particularly annoyed by the change in the silhouette of the headgear, but the coloured plastrons also caused confusion.
Even worse, HQ wanted to get rid of the Tarleton helmet and replace it with a shako that flared out at the top. The shako was made of felt with a leather peak. This was considerably less effective at giving the wearer protection against enemy sabres, but it was the shape that annoyed Wellington. The new-style light cavalry shako was exactly the same shape as that of the French light cavalry. Combined with the new plastron, the shako gave the British light cavalry a very similar appearance to their enemies.
Wellington was furious.
He fired off an immediate reply pointing out that the light cavalry often operated miles from the main army as they scouted around. It was essential, he said, that the uniform of the light cavalry could be recognised at a distance – often several miles away. The old all-blue uniform with Tarleton helmet was quite unlike anything else in Spain. But the new plastron and shako uniform could easily be mistaken for many other light cavalry uniforms worn by the enemy.
Army HQ was unmoved – possibly in part because the Prince Regent loved the more modern and more colourful uniform. Correspondence went back and forth, but in the end the new uniforms were issued in time for the campaigning season of 1813.
The point at issue here had been the appearance of the uniform – and in particular its appearance at a distance. Wellington was particularly annoyed by the change in the silhouette of the headgear, but the coloured plastrons also caused confusion.
Clearly one of the key functions of a uniform is to identify the wearer. In an army, that primarily means identifying the army to which he belongs. Details within the uniform give the rank, unit and specialist skills of the wearer.
In civilian life uniforms can be used to identify a police officer, firefighter, paramedic, judge or other profession. In all cases, the appearance of the uniform must be instantly recognisable to anyone who sees it. Given that many of these civilian uniforms are worn by emergency services, there is no point in wearing a uniform that requires a person to read words or look for detail. A police uniform must look very different from a paramedic, and both must be very different from civilian mufti.
As with Wellington’s light dragoons, silhouette is crucial. A police helmet is distinctive and can be recognised at a great distance. Similarly the style of a police uniform and its blue colour needs to be distinct from that of others.
Of course there is far more to a uniform than its appearance. It must also be functional. Wellington’s soldiers were out in all weathers, day and night, for weeks on end. The opportunities for changing or washing were very limited. Police officers and firefighters, by contrast, may be out in terrible weather, but they are almost certainly able to look forward to a nice hot shower at the end of their shift, and a change into a clean set of clothes before they go on duty again. As a result modern day emergency services uniforms do not need to be as robust as those of Wellington’s soldiers.
And most police officers have a car or motorbike nearby where equipment can be kept, obviating the need for all the packs, pouches and bags that soldiers used to lug about with them.
Nevertheless, some features of uniforms remain that same as they always were.
In civilian life uniforms can be used to identify a police officer, firefighter, paramedic, judge or other profession. In all cases, the appearance of the uniform must be instantly recognisable to anyone who sees it. Given that many of these civilian uniforms are worn by emergency services, there is no point in wearing a uniform that requires a person to read words or look for detail. A police uniform must look very different from a paramedic, and both must be very different from civilian mufti.
As with Wellington’s light dragoons, silhouette is crucial. A police helmet is distinctive and can be recognised at a great distance. Similarly the style of a police uniform and its blue colour needs to be distinct from that of others.
Of course there is far more to a uniform than its appearance. It must also be functional. Wellington’s soldiers were out in all weathers, day and night, for weeks on end. The opportunities for changing or washing were very limited. Police officers and firefighters, by contrast, may be out in terrible weather, but they are almost certainly able to look forward to a nice hot shower at the end of their shift, and a change into a clean set of clothes before they go on duty again. As a result modern day emergency services uniforms do not need to be as robust as those of Wellington’s soldiers.
And most police officers have a car or motorbike nearby where equipment can be kept, obviating the need for all the packs, pouches and bags that soldiers used to lug about with them.
Nevertheless, some features of uniforms remain that same as they always were.
- A uniform needs to be instantly recognisable.
- A uniform needs to be distinctive and unique.
- A uniform needs to be weather proof.
- A uniform needs to be comfortable to wear.
- A uniform needs to be practical.
By Timothy Neill and Edited by Tom Guyton-Day

I remember vividly where I was when I got my University acceptance. It was during a visit to the London 2012 Olympics as me and my father waited on the train that would take us back to where we were staying for the evening. I thought this was going to be the next big chapter of my life. The final year of the Scottish school system exists pretty much exclusively (for those whose grades are high enough) to get you prepared for the University environment and submitting the all-important UCAS form. My disability meant I wasn't going outside my hometown, but it will still a fantastic feeling to have made it this far. I was intrigued to see where my Media degree would take me next.
Cut to the opening of first semester. In several ways I was surprised how much Media as a degree discipline was simply an extension of the latter school years. Not only in terms of the very school like timetable structure (which is likely the case for most degrees) but more related to the central subject being such a broad topic area.
Traditionally a University course would enable the students to specialise and focus in on a subject area that would allow them to gain specific knowledge that increases their employability. In broad creative focused degree such as Media the focus is more on teaching “a little about a lot” as opposed to “a lot about a little.” This may prove effective for some learners in giving them a broad range of skills that makes them potentially employable in a number of areas but without any real focus a lot of the modules and topics come down to individual skill rather than testing knowledge retention of the specifically taught material.
This initially took me by surprise. I was not entirely sure whether this course would stand me in good stead going forward. Nevertheless, determination and persistence got me through the areas of the course I was a lot less comfortable with. It also enabled me to meet a variety of new people to whom I could showcase my skills regardless of external factors. This increased confidence in my own ability's really saw me through some difficult times and was the one major benefit I gained with my University experience.
As the years passed not much changed. Modules and classes passed by regularly with various levels of impact and I gained several stories which could be happily be trotted out as effective conversation starters for years to come. That said, as my final year approached, that was the nagging feeling that I still did not know what the most effective path for me would be given I had a degree covering so many areas. When I went to the open day, I was essentially gated out of enrolling on the Journalism programme because its leader believed the programme was not suitable for those with physical disabilities (like me.) There was an enormous sense of pride and the feeling I had proverbially stuck it to the man given that I had made it this far taking an alternative course. Nevertheless, I always questioned how things might have turned out if I had concentrated on a more focused area of study.
When it came time for graduation the difference between those that had really bought into the bond between course mates and those that had mostly kept their distance but were still proud of their achievements was palpable. Whether or not this would have been different with a smaller intake and more focused direction remains to be seen but it's a topic that has always fascinated me.
A great deal of what is involved in the selling of further/ higher education is all about the university culture and potential lifelong friendships that could be made off the back of shared experience. I'm not saying this is wrong, as it will depend hugely on course of study, individual investment and expectation but I did want to share my experience, having graduated with an incredibly broad degree. I don't regret the time spent completing my course, but I would say that in my experience in creative focused degrees will depend highly on individual investments both in terms of coursework and investment within the University culture.
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