I kept noticing this decidedly cool bar a little way down the Cowley Road. With fairy-lights strung across its wooden terrace and ‘Bigfoot’ scrawled in playful letters across the glass, it seemed slightly out of place on Cowley Road.
We all know that Oxford can feel like a bubble. Every day brings new challenges and new deadlines, to the extent that a week can pass in an instant and there is just no time to peek outside of the blinkered existence of tutorials and the occasional pub trip. But this tunnel vision can become restrictive, and even self-perpetuating.
Recently, I found myself marooned in that most demoralising of places, the NHS waiting list. I was soon falling down the rabbit hole of catastrophisation, after succumbing to the inevitable temptation of googling my symptoms (it wasn’t looking good).
Too many of us know the emotional grey area that situationships cultivate. That illusion of indifference – our personal emotional insurance policy – is a ready get out in case our true feelings go unreciprocated. Ava Doherty expands on why this is not only emotionally detrimental, but significant for our political demands too.
The experience of moving away allows us to mature. But what happens when we re-encounter past friends, only to realise we've outgrown them... is it time to move on?
As most Cambridge students head into exam term, C Sunday constitutes a final hurrah, expending all their energy before knuckling down. The spirit of revelry, somewhere between a Bacchanalia and a large-scale fraternity party, was infectious.
On quiet St Clements Street, a warm glow welcomes guests from behind an unobtrusive facade – Pan Pan restaurant promises a casual and comfortable dining experience.
In the summer before starting university, with my place at Oxford secured, and the reality of the impending plunge into the unknown beginning to dawn on me, I embarked on a three-week long solo trip around Italy.