Rivalry isn’t the first word that comes to mind with Oxford Brookes. As one friend put it, ‘they think we’re rivals; actually they’re just jealous of us and we couldn’t give a shit about them.’ Like the ugly friend (the one with the ‘great personality’), we have a tendency to cast their students a pitiful gaze as we swan into the Rad Cam or pause to admire the architecture of our 400-year-old college, steeped with a rich history of famous alumni. And there are some pretty outdated stereotypes coming from both sides of the River Cherwell. To them, the University of Oxford is home to the Tolkien-wielding, socially-awkward recluse; to us, Brookes is home to the media studies student. So it’s about time to set the record straight: is Brookes really all binge-drinking, sex and drugs while we hole up in the library with our slippers and settle down for an all-nighter? Kim, a Brookes fresher, and I decided to swap for a day and find out who’s tame and who’s wild? Who’s clever and who’s dumb? And who really has it better?
Lectures vs. Tutorials
Helen:Now plenty of times last year when I excitedly told people that I’d got into Oxford was I met with the reply of ‘what, Brookes?’ Although seeming like a reflection on my intelligence (I prefer to think it wasn’t), Oxford seems to have set itself apart as the preserve of gifted yet obnoxious students to all the visitors that wander our arches and quads. Brookes doesn’t have a tutorial system like Oxford, and while it also doesn’t have every leading expert in the world on its books, you can’t fault the teaching. The students at Kim’s history of art lecture were more attentive than most I’ve seen at a 10am theology lecture and 10% of your course is reliant upon turning up to at least 8 out of 10 lectures (incidentally, I haven’t actually woken up in time for a lecture yet this term). If you miss the deadline for an essay at Brookes, you automatically get a zero (although Kim does only have one term…). I guess at Oxford the personal nature of a tutorial means that you can become friends with your tutor, and with friendship comes the occasional abuse of this privileged position when you miss a deadline. Oxford prides itself on the tutorial system for good reason; I don’t think a lecture could ever stretch me or I could enjoy it as much as a tutorial.
Kim:Apparently the one defining aspect of Oxford teaching is the tutorial system, unrivalled in its ability to strike fear into the heart of students. At Brookes, we only really see our tutors at our lectures, which are 12 hours each week, so it was really interesting to be able to join in with a tutorial. Interacting with a tutor on such a personal level as a tutorial was a little intimidating; however, everyone was extremely welcoming and friendly. I’m not sure whether it was down to the tutor, or the quality of the essays, or simply being so much more personal, but in the tutorial I picked up much more than I would in a lecture. At Brookes, tutorials are available to anyone but are not timetabled and need to be arranged privately with your tutor, which most people don’t, so I was startled at how much I picked up just in an hour and how effective (and not scary!) the tutorial system actually was.
Halls vs. College
Helen: RRenowned as one of the most expensive colleges in Oxford, yet still the poorest, my college, Pembroke, perhaps isn’t the greatest example of college accommodation. But compared to modern flats shared between 6 people at Clive Booth halls at least we have character and charm, and that counts for a lot more (if you ignore the 70s’ build at the back). I’d imagine the bedrooms at Kim’s halls were more conducive to any night-time activities than our paper thin walls and ceilings and the kitchen/living areas made it really homely, but that still wouldn’t make me leave our beautiful quads anytime soon.
Kim: The Clive Booth campus at Brookes these days is a construction site with some very ugly 1960s’ buildings so Pembroke was a real treat. I hate to admit Oxford’s better in any way than Brookes but the buildings and grounds of all of the colleges I looked at were gorgeous compared to ours. The whole college atmosphere with common rooms, formal halls (complete with sconsing) and staircases was a lot less Mallory Towers/Harry Potter than I imagined it would be, but there’s no way it can be as much fun. Our parties aren’t about to get broken up by a ‘junior dean’ if there are more than 10 people present.
Fuzzy Ducks vs. College Bop
Helen: My last encounter with Oxford Brookes was a Faithless gig at their student union. After spending the night locked in several ill-advised clinches with a Brookes’ boy named Drew, I discovered all my friends had left and I was stuck in Headington alone, drunk, with no money and the offer of a night of passion if I left by 9am so he could go to play football with his friends. I was apprehensive then at the idea of another Brookes’ night. Fuzzy Ducks promotes itself on the fact that several years ago FHM called it ‘the easiest place to get laid in the country’; with drunk girls, unfussy men, cheap drink, and plenty of costumes constructed from the odds and ends of Primark’s lingerie department, it isn’t difficult to see why it manages to hold onto its reputation. One fellow student called it ‘the biggest self-confidence boost’, which could either be put down to the ability to pull pretty much anyone you set your sights on or that fact that you’re guaranteed to look better than half the other clubbers. It did seem like a status thing for a Brookes’ guy to get with Oxford girls; Kim’s flat-mate was particularly proud of his current achievement in ‘university challenge’ (getting with a girl from every Oxford college, that is, not the TV show). The DJ’s cries of ‘Let’s show Oxford what we’re made of’ (tut, hanging preposition) whipped the crowd into a frenzy of drunken face-sucking, so Brookes, you’re welcome, I guess.
Kim: The word ‘bop’ evokes images of a 1950s swing dance in a village hall and its new definition as a ‘college disco’ didn’t really get me as excited as the college seemed to be getting about their ‘Halloween themed bop at Que Pasa’. In theory they sound fine, but from what I’d heard, it was all bad fancy dress and drunken snogs leading to a lot of banter/shame the next day. Sure enough, drinking games were in full swing when I arrived at Helen’s house because ‘you’ve got to be fucked to enjoy a bop’. Surprisingly, despite slightly-out-of-date R’n’B and enough Apple Sourz to burn away my stomach lining, I actually had a lot of fun. I guess the whole bop experience is based on the fact that you know nearly everybody there and you can get up to some illicit/incestuous/gossip-fuelling fun with a person you’ll have to make eye contact with for the next 3 years. Although that might be what makes bops good, a little anonymity is what makes Fuzzy Ducks great. If I want a little more of that kind of action I’ve been told a crew date followed by a Wednesday night at Shark End is the place to go. Any takers?
Oxford and Brookes. They’re different, for sure. I don’t think there’s going to be a day anytime soon when you hear the Union President heading for a pint at the Brookes’ SU or any Brookes’ student bemoaning the fact that they haven’t got 16 essays this term. But maybe we should concede (probably rather quietly, and just to ourselves) that we’re a lot more similar than most of us admit.
