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).
Sourdough is a simple pleasure. A perfect loaf should have a chewy, light, tangy, and springy crumb. On cold days it’s a reliable and simple comfort – the kind that makes Hilary term feel a little less bleak.
Barely a month has passed since we made our flustered entry into 2026. But it seems like the verdict is already in: your honour, we’ve had enough. Bring back 2016.
After taking my seat towards the back of the Union debating chamber, uncertain whether Cherwell would be able to interview Mary Berry, the illustrious...
Fashion. Clothing. Two independent and not-necessarily-linked concepts. But I find myself asking, what is the point of one without the other? Championing the two,...