There is no place in Oxford that my muscle memory takes me to more reliably than the Alternative Tuck Shop. This happens regardless of my state – still half-asleep, perhaps slightly hungover, or already late for class.
This winter, social media encourages us to embark on the journey of the "winter arc": a self-optimisation quest which leaves little room for hibernation.
Not all icks are created equal, and of course, they shouldn't be treated as such. Either way, they undeniably speak volumes about the person you're with.
I always knew I was a bit of a peculiar child. But I was deeply surprised when a friend seeking a diagnosis herself suggested that I might be autistic.
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.
So the Oxford workload, rather than triggering a stress response, has instead desensitised me to the fear of academic failure. Exposure therapy, I suppose. It’s very freeing.
Many of us have heard the dreaded ‘So… any idea what you’re doing next?’. It makes me a little irate, anxious, and on the verge of a minor breakdown, as you can probably tell. Two years of my undergraduate degree have somehow disappeared with the blink of an eye – I am older but seem to be none the wiser.