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.
I associate with soup, the fiery plains of eastern Rajasthan, the smokiness of coal roasted jeera in a Kadai pan, and the creators of a warm, comforting dish full of love, compassion, unity and humility.
Are we are giving daylight savings time just a little more hatred than it deserves? Sophie Price looks into the benefits of the time change for both early risers and night owls.
There’s something that makes the high table feel a bit off. Maybe it’s because the hierarchy of academia it represents hits a bit too close to home. A bit too close to the bitter sentiment in British society towards class domination.
Brunch is a particular love of mine. Between the poached eggs at Brasenose brunch, the coconut pancakes at The Handle Bar Cafe, and huevos rancheros at the Oxford Brunch Bar, there is no shortage of weekend brunch options in Oxford. The Breakfast Club could have been a perfect addition to this lovely list - alas, it did not make the cut.
All it takes is for me to catch a glimpse of a boy on a VOI and I’m out. It’s now possible to designate a character trait as a red flag and rule someone out completely. What happened to second chances?
It feels natural to carry sadness for moments missed, for the advice that might have been shared, and for the unique kind of love that could have shaped your life.
Describe yourself in 6 words or less. Find your passion. Find your purpose. Can your passion become your career? Can you monetise this? Can we monetise this? Can you make us money?
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.