Does a university education remain valuable for these young entrepreneurs, or can entrepreneurship serve as an increasingly popular alternative to traditional routes to success?

One of the most enduring images of grassroots politics is the pamphlet and the pamphleteer: the putting up of flyers, the taking over of public surfaces, the giddy circulation of agitational print, the vexation of the powers that be.

As anyone who has remained in Oxford over the long vacation knows, thousands take up the offer of a 'study holiday'.

It is difficult to think of a university more entangled with the idea of reading. The institution remains organised around libraries, primary texts, and tutorial reading lists that have become semi-mythological in undergraduate culture. Even maths students do not simply study maths; according to their Bod cards, they “read for” a degree. Entire pedagogies here rest on assumptions that students will disappear into novels, criticism, and archives before resurfacing with an essay and an original argument.

With all these sightings of homogeneous clothing, it seemed to me as though people spent more time in ‘uniform’ at Oxford than they would have done in sixth form or high school beforehand. But does Oxford really have ‘uniforms’? How might we define them? And what purpose might they serve?

Recently, I found myself curious about the behind-the-scenes process: how colleges receive dietary information, where and how it travels, and what care is taken to ensure that, by the time a plate lands in front of you, it is the right one.