‘Home is where the heart is.’

The Michaelmas vac is a strange part of the Oxford calendar. For freshers, it is the first time they will be making the return home – having to stuff overpacked suitcases and newly purchased stash into their car after just eight weeks here. Some return to tiny villages, others to big cities and others remain in Oxford. Others spend a couple of weeks on the slopes of Val D’Isere. Very few of us, however, are as lucky as I am to be returning to the land of Milton Keynes…

Going back can be a challenge. The student returns to a familiar land, but everything feels different. I just started getting used to being in Oxford again and suddenly it’s time to move back. No longer are my weeks filled with hours at the Rad Cam, spontaneous Swan and Castle trips or Bridge Thursdays. Rather, I return home to find my younger sister has raided my clothes and makeup, and is somehow taller than me (although at 5’ 2, I have no right to act surprised…). While I was busy in the Oxford bubble, the familiar parts of my hometown have also grown in their own ways (like the number of roundabouts for example).

In my opinion, a good vacation should always feature copious amounts of sleep. Even if your tutors may have fed you the age-old line of ‘a vacation is just when you vacate Oxford and continue to work elsewhere’, it is important to take a proper break and to help yourself recover after the trauma of an Oxford term. The lack of impending deadlines is an exhilarating feeling and the threat of collections is not quite enough to destroy that feeling either. I like my recovery days to be punctuated by long naps, mum’s cooking and Netflix’s ‘Are you still watching?’. Although I found this term that Oxford managed to creep its way onto my screen regardless; thank you Saltburn and Wonka. 

At some point, the time for the vacation staple arises – the big termly catch up with home friends. This consists of life updates and embarrassing ‘remember when’s’ and before long all the time apart seems to just melt away. It feels like nothing has changed yet at the same time it feels like everything has. I catch myself accidentally letting words like ‘Michaelmas’, ‘Hilary’, or ‘rustication’ slip and have to make sure not to use the word ‘Oxford’ too much in conversation for fear of sounding absolutely insufferable. One of my friends has developed a Scottish twang in her accent (studying in Edinburgh), another has spent two years in the real world working after deciding not to go to University. There is a bittersweet feeling as I remember how we have all grown as people but also how much our lives have grown apart over the last two years. People are starting to think about jobs and where they might want to settle down in the future. Others are taking the ‘go with the flow approach’. It all feels as though it is moving a bit too fast. 

I often grapple with a persistent feeling of guilt about not staying in touch with home friends in the way I feel I should have. And yet, every year I also feel a sense of guilt for letting those earlier Oxford friendships wane. Throughout my time at Oxford, I have grown so much as a person that coming home almost feels like a bit of a culture shock – even though I live only an hour’s drive away.

It can feel like a bit of a conflict – the home where I grew up now feels like a waiting room before I get back to my ‘real life’ at Oxford. It’s been months, and soon it will be years since I walked down paths I used to take daily. But regardless of where ‘home’ is, or where it becomes throughout my life, there is no feeling quite like returning to the place you were made.