Sarannya Nanda A chill February wind curled down St. Leonards Road the evening of the University Hall Ball, carrying with it the kind of restless electricity that only a themed black-tie night in  St Andrews  can conjure. As I made my way toward the entrance of Kinkell Byre, the puddles on the cobblestones shimmered like sequins under lamplight, reflecting flashes of red feathers and satin bow ties. It felt, for a moment, as if the town itself had slipped into character, our