here is a lot to be said for blind positivity. On a good day, I’m a manifester, a big believer in my ability to speak things into existence. During my English A-Level, I had complete confidence that the crystals hidden in my bra would provide enough luck to snag me an A*. Today, I put great faith in words, relying on the same ‘I can do it’ that gets Olympic athletes across the finish line, to help me through difficult situations.
I’m now in my fourth year, and as such, must grapple with the reality of my Oxford days drawing to a close. Granted, this is something that every student must contend with, and I watched on as most of my friends bade a fond farewell to this city where our friendships began when they graduated last summer. Yet there is something about the fourth year that I’m certain makes the final year even more strange: a sense of something already lost, of living in a moment that has already passed.
Now, having exhausted myself with these relentless pursuits, the job has been passed on to a new bright-eyed Cupid, and in my retirement I’ve become fondly reflective, and decided to curate my insights into this list:
“Here’s the thing about being an older woman…the roles are more interesting. People get more complex as they get older. And you have more life experience to bring to the role.”
If you want to take up stamp collecting, or pet more dogs, or stop listening to the same six songs you’ve had in your playlist since you were 14, why wait until January 1st to do it?
My pandemic summer was spent staring at a computer, but these were a startlingly productive and educational few months and, as with most exciting things in my unexciting life, it starts with a blank page.
Back in my childhood bedroom, I am stuck in an unpleasant time-warp, sixteen again and agonizing over awful boys, listening to utterly miserable Smiths songs. It’s the deja-vu experience no one wants.
I’ll miss the little things, most of all: the warm chaotic hubbub of too many people in one bungalow, fighting over who gets the sofa seat with the footrest, and maybe most of all, the smell of cooking wafting from the kitchen.
Surely having that moment to celebrate and realise that “yes, I made it to f*cking Oxford during a worldwide crisis” seems quite affirming and in line with the Government’s message of being able to have a ‘proper University experience™’, whatever that means.
"'Horror movies and porn movies are structured in exactly the same way,' he begins, 'the narrative is structured as a pretext for a number of these explosive climaxes. One victim at a time, one sex scene at a time.'"
Dessert has the opportunity to hold such creativity and glee, and yet the dry, misshapen lumps turned out year after year hold nothing but an unbelievable amount of fruit. They also hold a considerable serving of history.
Before the coronavirus pandemic, Oxford students who wanted to catch infectious diseases had to venture into Cowley. Back in the ‘old normal’, Temple Lounge...
"The veggie haggis should indeed gain a position as a roasted staple around the British dinner table; cheap, healthy, easy to cook and universally delectable."
“Why do we care about this? Well, it's like a parallel earth. It's the same size as Earth, made of the same sort of materials formed around [...] the same amount of time ago. But it's evolved really differently with this huge greenhouse effect.”
Potatoes are a-plenty, but keep an eye out post-halloween for sweet-fleshed pumpkin, all kinds of leafy green veg, beautiful purple beetroots and the unassuming fennel, cabbage and cauliflower.