Last year, my post-lecture routine always involved an attempted stop in Teviot (the New Amphion, to be precise). Ideally I’d snag one of the very cushy red chairs in the bay window, warm up, maybe grab a reasonably-priced coffee, and debrief with a friend.
The café was constantly brimming with people so I considered myself very lucky if I landed a seat after 11am. When I did, I thought I was in the place to be. As a first year, I felt like I was among the Edinburgh greats – i.e. the ones who made it out of first year unscathed and were so stylishly adorned in their Armstrong and Sons’ acquisitions. But really, students of all walks walked through this place, making for people-watching galore. Sitting amidst the constant chatter and all-too-reliable instrumental mix on loop, I could always create my own world in there too; whether that meant talking to someone or skimming through a reading.
If the New Amphion attempt failed, the Library Bar also had a cosy study atmosphere, although some questionable, overly upbeat music. Around final exam season, I discovered that Teviot had even more seating up the winding stairs, where you could still order the classic Teviot hot chocolate or nachos straight to your table. The point is, Teviot had it all. It was a haven from the wind tunnel of George Square and, not to sound cheesy, while sitting at that bay window surrounded by my peers, I felt like I was part of the uni community.
When I heard the Teviot closure news, I couldn’t believe it. I spent too many Saturdays climbing to the top floor of the George Square library, only to find out yet again that my university did not have enough seating for all its students. By May, I gave up even entering the library in Old College. The idea that Teviot would shut its doors and diminish Edinburgh’s already sparse study spaces seemed absurd to me. Sure enough, while home for the summer, I received the Teviot construction plans and knew I had to face the music. What made me most upset, though, was that the uni decided to keep Teviot open for freshers week. The first years were tantalised by the idea of a homey environment where they could enjoy a coffee, a chat, a book, some studying or some people watching, and not feel bogged down by the silent pressure of the library.
Now, I feel very lucky that I live in a flat, with much more space to study and unwind than in my first year uni accommodation. But I’m already missing the community I found in Teviot and I feel for the first years who will not get to experience that when they need it most.
“DSCN4535 Teviot Row House” by AlasdairW is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.
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How Teviot’s death has impacted the community
Last year, my post-lecture routine always involved an attempted stop in Teviot (the New Amphion, to be precise). Ideally I’d snag one of the very cushy red chairs in the bay window, warm up, maybe grab a reasonably-priced coffee, and debrief with a friend.
The café was constantly brimming with people so I considered myself very lucky if I landed a seat after 11am. When I did, I thought I was in the place to be. As a first year, I felt like I was among the Edinburgh greats – i.e. the ones who made it out of first year unscathed and were so stylishly adorned in their Armstrong and Sons’ acquisitions. But really, students of all walks walked through this place, making for people-watching galore. Sitting amidst the constant chatter and all-too-reliable instrumental mix on loop, I could always create my own world in there too; whether that meant talking to someone or skimming through a reading.
If the New Amphion attempt failed, the Library Bar also had a cosy study atmosphere, although some questionable, overly upbeat music. Around final exam season, I discovered that Teviot had even more seating up the winding stairs, where you could still order the classic Teviot hot chocolate or nachos straight to your table. The point is, Teviot had it all. It was a haven from the wind tunnel of George Square and, not to sound cheesy, while sitting at that bay window surrounded by my peers, I felt like I was part of the uni community.
When I heard the Teviot closure news, I couldn’t believe it. I spent too many Saturdays climbing to the top floor of the George Square library, only to find out yet again that my university did not have enough seating for all its students. By May, I gave up even entering the library in Old College. The idea that Teviot would shut its doors and diminish Edinburgh’s already sparse study spaces seemed absurd to me. Sure enough, while home for the summer, I received the Teviot construction plans and knew I had to face the music. What made me most upset, though, was that the uni decided to keep Teviot open for freshers week. The first years were tantalised by the idea of a homey environment where they could enjoy a coffee, a chat, a book, some studying or some people watching, and not feel bogged down by the silent pressure of the library.
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Now, I feel very lucky that I live in a flat, with much more space to study and unwind than in my first year uni accommodation. But I’m already missing the community I found in Teviot and I feel for the first years who will not get to experience that when they need it most.
“DSCN4535 Teviot Row House” by AlasdairW is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.
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