Freshers’ formal. The first black-tie event I attended at Oxford. The golden glow of the candlelight, the grand dresses, tailored suits, and frustratingly elegant food should have been infinitely...
Oxford students hate C*mbridge. Or at least, we’re supposed to. We call them Tabs, occasionally ‘shoe’ them, and inherit a rivalry as soon as we matriculate. There’s only one problem: most of the time, nobody seems particularly bothered.