Matcha, rich in antioxidants and caffeinated, is my go-to when I don’t want anything espresso. Yet not every store in Oxford sells it – I have been a victim of many bad matcha lattes over the years. Here’s a ranking of the matcha lattes I’ve had in Oxford.
In many of these residents, I also saw glimpses of my Nan, realising she wasn’t alone in her inner conflicts between feeling cared for and feeling controlled.
Sitting next to Shamil, Kavi, and their loved ones made us feel part of the Dishoom family; sharing plates and insights on life over various cocktails made four hours fly by. From cocktails to curries, Dishoom's Permit Room exceeded all expectations.
The facts of Oxford are far ahead of its fictions, creating a peculiar disjunct in the identities of its undergraduates. Each student must battle with either “I’m not your stereotypical Oxford student!” or “I am your stereotypical Oxford student!”
Education folklore has it that for many years, students at MIT have scrawled the acronym ‘IHTFP’ (I hate this fucking place) around campus in an attempt to express disdain for their university. After two years at Oxford, I can now report that students here often experience similar feelings.
At every late library session or rainy walk back to college, I think back to my days in fluorescent-lit, outdated offices. I think of riding a busy bus, an hour each way. I think of pointless, drawn-out meetings. And I think of all the time I wasted for no good reason.
Having spent a ridiculous amount of time working(ish) in Oxford cafés, these are some of the top tips and tricks I have learnt about attempting to navigate Oxford café culture.
We’ve all been there. The perfect opportunity for a night out, potentially foiled by the un-attempted essay due tomorrow at 4pm. An age-old Oxford conundrum.
My friends and I had approached the trip with the motto ‘catch flights, not feelings’, and it appears we completely forgot to add ‘or parasitic infections’ to that list.
