It feels like only days ago that I was walking through the University Parks, ringed by waves of the greenest grass, the shiniest puddles, and the healthiest plants.
When I was seven, my grandma decided I was going to be a pianist. For the next twelve years, I sat through weekly piano lessons, despite a complete absence of enthusiasm for the instrument.
Nigella’s flourless chocolate cake and custard cream hearts are absolute game-changers, and have never failed to fool people into thinking I understand how to operate in a kitchen.
So here I am, tackling this morally ambiguous minefield head
on with an investigation into ‘get withs’ and whether or not they really are feminist.
Dear...
“So, how’s uni going?”
I imagine this question evokes the same kind of intense existential anguish as being asked how you’re dealing with the inevitability...
After a week of controversy and sedition, last week’s John Evelyn has been summarily executed by the Cherwell editorial team. Though Draconian, the crime...