Exeter College has unveiled its plans for EXOq, a new research and innovation environment to be built near Oxford Parkway Station in north Oxford, which will house a pioneering ‘supercomputer’. The project name, EXOq, combines the college’s initials with the letter ‘q’, referencing quantum computing and the site’s research goals. A public consultation on the proposals took place at the North Oxford Golf Club from 13th to 15th November.
Exeter College said in a press release that the site’s newly-built data centres will be able to host sovereign High-Performance Computing (HPC) infrastructure, which is intended to support research of global significance. The project will develop existing supercomputing discoveries in health, robotics, particle physics, and climate research in order to tackle some of the biggest issues facing the world today. The data centres are also expected to include trusted research environments capable of hosting sensitive datasets such as NHS data.
Professor Sir Nigel Shadbolt, Chair of AI@Oxford Research, said the project’s ambition was to make supercomputing infrastructure available to Oxford researchers “at discounted rates”.
Beyond its strategic importance, Exeter’s plans for the 30-hectare site will benefit the local community. Just under half of the land will be used as parkland to provide “leisure and community facilities” to support the wellbeing of local residents. The College will also build new foot and cycle bridges near Oxford Parkway Station, supporting travel to Oxford and Kidlington.
The EXOq project announced that the planned development could generate a gross value of about £1.4 billion per year when fully operational, with £900 million directly benefitting Oxford’s Cherwell District. The research project is also estimated to create 7,000 new jobs.
To address concerns about environmental stability, heat generated by the liquid-cooled data centres could feed into new heating systems for Oxford residents. Additionally, EXOq is currently in discussions with 1Energy, the UK’s leading low-carbon heat network developer, which has already secured £21 million in government investment to help heat Oxford.
Rector of Exeter College Dr Andrew Roe described the development as “a significant investment in both national capability and the local community”. Nicholas Badman, Exeter’s Finance & Estates Bursar, added that EXOq’s infrastructure would “power and accelerate research of global significance” while enhancing Oxford’s role as a centre of scientific excellence and world-renowned status.
By all logic and Silicon Valley prophecy, physical books should’ve gone the way of Blockbuster and handwritten thank-you notes. E-books and audiobooks are faster, lighter, cheaper, and don’t require you to carry around what is essentially a small tree.
With a phone, tablet, or one of those dedicated e-ink readers that make you feel like you’re holding a high-tech calculator from 2004, you can download any book you want. In fact, people are picking up PayPal gift cards on Eneba and building digital libraries from the comfort of their couch, probably while half-watching a true crime documentary and questioning their life choices.
Digital: Lazy but Make It Literary
And then there are audiobooks. They’re the chosen format of multitasking. You can listen while cooking, driving, pretending to work, or staring dead-eyed into the abyss of your laundry pile. Someone else reads the book for you. It’s peak laziness disguised as productivity, and we love it.
So Why Aren’t Books Dead Yet?
Because they’re the last sacred space in a world that wants to ping you every 4.2 seconds. They’re gloriously analog. They don’t buzz. They don’t need updates. They don’t suddenly disappear because the publisher lost a licensing battle with Amazon. Just like some things in life, the digital version might be convenient, but the real thing is always better.
Smell That? That’s Legacy
A physical book is a sensory experience. The smell of the pages, the weight in your hands, the satisfying sound of flipping a page – yes, we’re getting dramatic here, but physical books are dramatic. They sit on your shelf like quiet trophies of all the things you meant to read but didn’t, and that’s important. E-books vanish into the void of your Kindle, lost behind a dozen half-read thrillers you panic-bought at midnight. Nobody gets impressed when you say you “own” 400 e-books. They get concerned.
Real Books Are Real Vibes
There’s a weird intimacy to reading a paper book. You mark your place with a receipt, or a leaf, or a chewed pen cap, and it’s yours. The creases, the notes in the margins, the chocolate stain from when you got too into the plot – that’s a reading life lived. You just can’t fold a Kindle page.
Shelf-Confidence Matters
And let’s not forget aesthetics. No one’s proudly displaying their “Audiobooks I’ve Listened To” shelf on Instagram. Bookshelves are personality statements. A cluttered pile of books on a nightstand says, “I’m intelligent but chaotic.” An alphabetized library with color-coded spines says, “I’m terrifying but probably successful.” E-books say, “I’m minimalist,” which is often just code for “I am lazy.”
Long Live the Papercuts
So no, physical books aren’t going anywhere. They’ve survived centuries, fires, censorship, teenagers, and now… tech bros. They are the cockroaches of the intellectual world – persistent, tactile, and slightly dusty.
E-books and audiobooks are great. Seriously. Use that PayPal gift card you grabbed on Eneba and stock up on all the digital lit your device can hold. But every now and then, crack open a real book. Let your thumbs get papercut. Let your arms ache from the hardcover. Let your cat knock it off the bed.
Because in a world that’s constantly buffering, sometimes paper just feels better.
Women’s health is a curious thing. It’s not unusual to come home from a GP appointment with an unshakeable sense of disappointment, and often more questions and frustrations than you had in the first place. Symptoms are often diminished or disregarded altogether; women are consistently treated as inadequate authorities on their own health. It was only in the 90s that it became common practice to include women in clinical trials, meaning that the very metrics by which we determine physical health are inherently flawed. What this has caused is a profound sense of mysticism when it comes to problems relating to women’s health, particularly hormonal problems.
For as long as I can remember, women older – and, I thought, wiser – than me would laugh and sigh knowingly whenever I brought up feeling tired or unhappy, citing “hormones” as the culprit. They were right, as I later discovered, but not in any specific way. This uncertain rhetoric that I and many others grew up with around the way hormones work meant that they became shrouded in mystery, assuming the status of a kind of hazy force, a grim reaper which hovered above, ready to descend and wreak havoc at a moment’s notice.
This was in the days before cycle tracking, now made popular by aesthetically pleasing apps and memes about the luteal phase, in which every month felt a bit lawless. Of course, everyone knew the basics: you should expect, in the days leading up to your period, to well up at seemingly trivial things like TV adverts about life insurance for the over 60s, or catching your jumper on a doorknob; to crave chocolate and bread and have a higher propensity than usual for snapping at your parents. These confusing but often amusing side effects of changing hormone levels would disappear with the start of your period, and could be neatly pathologised by the label ‘PMS’. But what wasn’t clear was what you should do when these symptoms didn’t disappear right away, but lingered for longer, and manifested themselves in more serious ways than crying over daytime television. Or even that there was a name for it.
Not a lot of people know what PMDD is. I didn’t for quite a long time, and it was only after extensive googling, often in the middle of the night, that I discovered what it was. It’s frequently described as a more severe type of PMS, which can have a greater negative impact on your daily life. Feelings of panic, hopelessness, and a general lack of emotional equilibrium are amplified in the week leading up menstruation, and often persist for longer afterwards. Clinical definitions, as is often the case, don’t exactly capture the iron grip PMDD can have on your life, the extent to which it gets inside of your head and takes firm hold. It looks different for every person who experiences it; for me, it can feel a lot like being underwater one day, smothered by a kind of muffled, static silence, and resurfacing the next, to bright light and sharp sensations, where everything feels intense and overwhelming. It can cause sufferers to feel sensitive to rejection, lack self esteem, and generally just feel like they’re losing control of their emotions. And then, gradually, it subsides, slipping out of view – almost as if it was never there.
This is part of the problem with the condition: it can make you second-guess your emotions and instincts ad infinitum. During moments of happiness, where life feels like it normally should – where the ups and downs are there, but are manageable – it’s hard to believe that you ever felt what you felt at all. This kind of self-gaslighting isn’t necessarily helped by GPs who, even though they were (hopefully) well-meaning, seemed all too eager to consign my symptoms to general anxiety, and recommend going for a walk and doing some breathing exercises; or, that favourite catch-all solution, the pill.
Thankfully, there is a side of me that is quite determined (read: stubborn), and I eventually found a doctor who seemed to understand my attempts at explaining the extremity of my mood swings and the places my brain often led me to. She sent me a 15-page document about PMDD (which I’m fairly sure is aimed at medical professionals, but there’s nothing an Oxford student loves more than a bit of extended reading) and prescribed me medication to help stabilise my mood. The experience reminded me that one of the most powerful tools at your disposal is being able to do your own research. This is something that, as Oxford students, we perhaps take for granted: we regularly tackle essay crises and in-depth discussion, embracing our curiosity and trusting our own instincts. But this doesn’t have to be confined to the academic world – it can help de-mystify whatever you’re currently dealing with, and that can only be a good thing.
Deciding on the perfect family vacation destination can feel like a complex puzzle, with everyone having their own ideas of what makes a getaway truly special. Some may crave adventure, while others seek relaxation, and some are looking for a place rich in culture and history.
Balancing these desires can be tricky. That’s where Morocco travel packages come in, offering an exceptional destination that provides a little something for everyone. With its blend of stunning landscapes, vibrant cities, and rich traditions, Morocco provides the ideal setting for families to explore, relax, and make memories together. In this article, we’ll explore why Morocco is the perfect choice for your next family vacation.
Cultural Richness That Educates and Entertains
Morocco is like a living museum, offering endless opportunities for families to immerse themselves in its fascinating history and vibrant culture. The ancient medinas, grand palaces, and bustling souks provide a rich backdrop for exploration, where every corner holds a story waiting to be discovered.
Children will love stepping back in time, learning about Morocco’s past through hands-on experiences like exploring the Roman ruins of Volubilis or visiting the Kasbahs that have withstood centuries. Beyond history, Morocco offers a variety of family-friendly cultural activities.
Families can bond over a traditional cooking class, where they’ll learn to make delicious Moroccan dishes, or try their hand at henna art and pottery workshops, immersing themselves in local craftsmanship. These experiences not only entertain but also provide valuable lessons about Morocco’s heritage, making it the perfect place for both fun and education.
Safe and Welcoming Environment
Morocco is renowned for its family-friendly hospitality, where locals go out of their way to make visitors feel at home. Children are especially welcomed, with Moroccans known for their warmth and kindness toward young travelers. Tourist areas, including major cities like Marrakesh and Fes, generally maintain low crime rates, providing peace of mind for families.
To ensure a stress-free experience, guided tours are a great option, offering added security and insightful guidance while navigating the country. Additionally, many local guides speak English and French, making communication easy and ensuring smooth logistics throughout your trip. This combination of safety, warmth, and convenience makes Morocco a great destination for families looking for both adventure and peace of mind.
Variety of Landscapes & Activities for All Ages
Morocco’s diverse landscapes offer something for everyone, making it the perfect destination for families with varying interests. For a relaxing beach escape, head to Essaouira or Agadir, where the gentle waves and sunny shores provide a peaceful setting for families to unwind.
If your family is more adventurous, the Atlas Mountains offer exciting opportunities for hiking or mule rides, where you can explore stunning vistas and traditional Berber villages. The Sahara Desert, with its endless golden dunes, promises unforgettable experiences like camel rides, sandboarding, and stargazing under the clear desert sky.
Whether you’re seeking relaxation or adventure, Morocco has it all. Families can enjoy a mix of both in one trip, with activities that cater to all age groups.
Kid-Friendly Accommodations & Cuisine
Morocco offers a wide range of family-friendly accommodations that cater to the needs of all travelers. Many riads and resorts feature spacious family suites, private pools, and dedicated kid zones, ensuring that both parents and children have a comfortable and enjoyable stay.
When it comes to food, Moroccan cuisine is flavorful yet mild enough for kids to enjoy. Dishes like couscous, tagines, and grilled meats are staples that are not overly spicy, making them ideal for younger palates. Additionally, Moroccan restaurants offer dietary flexibility, with plenty of vegetarian and gluten-free options to accommodate various dietary needs.
Adventure Without Exhaustion: Ideal Travel Pace
One of the best aspects of traveling in Morocco with family is the ideal travel pace. Many of the country’s top cities are relatively close to each other, meaning less time spent in transit and more time for exploration.
For instance, a 7–10 day itinerary could take you from Casablanca to Fes, then to Merzouga for a desert adventure, and finally to Marrakesh, offering a rich mix of history, culture, and nature. With excellent transportation options such as private vans, guided tours, and safe drivers, getting around is both comfortable and convenient.
Morocco trip packages make these itineraries easy to follow, professionally managed, and stress-free, ensuring that families can enjoy the best of Morocco without feeling rushed.
Educational Impact and Lasting Family Memories
A trip to Morocco offers children a unique opportunity to experience a culture vastly different from their own, fostering a deeper understanding of the world. Kids benefit from hands-on learning as they explore ancient ruins, ride camels across the Sahara, and hear the call to prayer echoing through the cities. These experiences create lasting memories that extend far beyond the classroom, making history and culture come alive.
Moreover, Morocco provides the perfect setting for screen-free bonding, with plenty of outdoor exploration and family activities that encourage interaction, conversation, and shared adventures. These moments not only enrich your children’s knowledge but also strengthen family ties.
Tips for Planning a Family Trip to Morocco
The best time to visit Morocco is during the spring (March to May) and fall (September to November), when the weather is mild and ideal for outdoor activities. When packing for kids, remember essentials like sun protection (hats, sunscreen), light clothing for warmth, and comfortable shoes for walking.
It’s also a good idea to bring some snacks for the journey. To ensure a smooth and enjoyable experience, consider booking with family-focused tour providers who specialize in kid-friendly itineraries, offering peace of mind and making logistics easier for families.
Conclusion
Morocco offers a wonderful mix of culture, nature, safety, and fun, making it a great choice for families. With its rich history, beautiful landscapes, and welcoming atmosphere, it’s a destination that appeals to all ages. Instead of the usual vacation spots, consider exploring Morocco. It’s a place where you and your family can create lasting memories together.
Sir Nigel Shadbolt, the Principal of Jesus College and a prominent computer scientist, was appointed by Oxford University to be Chair of AI@Oxford Research. AI@Oxford Research is an initiative to coordinate AI research across the University’s divisions, promote Oxford’s expertise, and develop large-scale research proposals.
A press release by the University also noted some of the ways AI has been used in Oxford research, including in drug development, ultrasound imaging, and even a perfunctory reference to the technology’s use in the social sciences and humanities.
Professor Shadbolt previously co-founded the Open Data Institute with Oxford research fellow Tim Berners-Lee, inventor of the World Wide Web. Shadbolt had served as a Professor of Artificial Intelligence at the University of Southampton prior to his appointment as principal of Jesus College, and was elected fellow of the prestigious Royal Society in 2017.
Shadbolt told Cherwell: “I am delighted to have been appointed Chair of AI@Oxford Research, and to have the opportunity to champion and help coordinate the University’s world-class research in artificial intelligence (AI) and innovation. I’m greatly looking forward to working with colleagues across the University to shape and communicate our collective vision for AI research, showcasing Oxford’s expertise on a wider stage to attract new partnerships, and investments.”
He highlighted that his role is “to champion and help coordinate Oxford’s world-class research in AI” and “to build new strategic partnerships, and encourage new investments in our people, infrastructure and innovation”. To demonstrate Oxford’s AI community and impact, he will also oversee the creation of a new website for this purpose. Additionally, Shadbolt highlighted the participation of students in AI@Oxford, such as Oxford’s Artificial Intelligence Society, “one of the most vibrant student AI societies in the world”.
Shadbolt framed the initiative as uniting the “technical, ethical, social, and policy dimensions of AI under one strategic umbrella”. He said that while short-term he would be focusing on building partnerships with “government, industry, and civil society”, long-term he hoped to “ensure the sum of our work at Oxford is more than its outstanding parts”.
The appointment of Sir Nigel Shadbolt comes with the University’s rapid embrace of AI – part of a worldwide rush of capital and research into the field. At the beginning of this Michaelmas term, the University announced that ChatGPT-5 would be provided free to all staff and students.
While AI has powered major leaps in drug development at Oxford and elsewhere, large language models (LLMs) like ChatGPT are also being widely used for cheating and essay-writing. A report from the Guardian earlier this year found almost 7,000 proven cases in UK universities of cheating using AI.
Tidal Theatre’s Launa (at the BT 18-22nd November) is exactly the kind of play that the student drama scene needs more of. It was original, witty, bold and colourful, with an incredibly authentic portrayal of grief in all its forms.
Rowan Brown’s impressive original script explores the emotional turmoil of Edna (Sanaa Pasha), a once hopeless romantic processing the death of her daughter Launa (Coco Scanlon) at just six years old. The production’s choreography reflected Edna’s dreamlike state, in which she tortures herself with imaginary conversations with shifting versions of a grown-up Launa. Alongside these central interactions, Edna’s husband Jo (Callum Beardmore), sister, Beth (Kitty Brown), and mother, Helen (Rosie Sutton), break through her preoccupied state to attempt to encourage her to begin her life again.
Sanaa Pasha was electric as Edna. She was captivating to watch from the initial moment that her character walked into the surroundings of the flat, throwing off Edna’s work gear and putting on tracksuit bottoms to signify the mental defeat that would characterise her preceding interactions. Her physicality was a mechanism for portraying the pain inside Edna’s head: she spun, danced manically, and curled into a ball on the floor, conveying different facets of despair. Pasha’s ability to portray the desolation that Edna was feeling through facial expression was also very impressive.
Intensifying the pain of Edna’s thoughts was Launa’s onstage presence, a now grown woman in childish pyjamas. Co-directors Emily Polhill and Rowan Brown deserves commendation for the presentation of their relationship: at different points Scanlon as Launa physically clung to Edna’s side, put on a whiney babyish voice, and loomed over Edna while accusing her of poor parenting. The effect was to give the audience a deeper understanding of the intensely self-critical nature of Edna’s thoughts. In one especially haunting moment, the ensemble and main actors came together to recreate a time when Edna, frustrated at Launa disturbing her in the night, locked her in a room. Launa and the ensemble created a chilling chorus of “let me out” as Edna grew visibly panicked. Scanlon was skilled at switching between Launa’s childish, tender side, and her angry outbursts used to reflect Edna’s guilt back at her. The ability of these moments to generate sympathy for Edna is testament to Brown’s skillful writing.
Edna’s refusal to cease reliving her time with Launa is the main source of conflict in the play. A key theme is how to be there for someone who stubbornly refuses help, but is clearly struggling. The relationship between Edna and her husband made it clear that Edna had not considered the ways in which Jo must be hurting. Caught up in her own grief, she refuses to admit that she’s been talking to Launa in her sleep as he begs her: “I want to hear you say it.” Lost in the confusion of what her life has become, Brown’s writing showed that Edna was unable to appreciate how far she had pushed Jo away until it was too late.
Bringing some much needed comedic relief was Kitty Brown as Beth, bursting into a scene to make an awkward attempt at meaningful conversation with Edna, who still ironically retained a sense of protectiveness over her younger sister. Particularly funny was Beth’s attempt to suggest something positive about her own partner, who no one remembers is called Toby, other than the fact that he’s…there, and makes risotto. As the action progressed, Brown was convincing in becoming more firm with Edna, warning her not to indulge in grief and, in one particularly well-written line, telling her she’s “spoilt on loss”.
As someone that loves the combination of naturalistic acting and physical theatre, I felt that the use of an ensemble (Mary Stillman, Wren Talbot-Ponsonby, and Katie Maybin) diversified the onstage action in an exciting way. The use of breathwork in particular was effective: at points Edna’s deep breath in would be matched by the ensemble as she was swept up into a crowd of unfriendly faces. Figures personifying grief held potential to be reminiscent of GSCE drama, but the skill of the ensemble made it nuanced rather than stereotypical. Additionally, some visual moments were truly beautiful, with effective repetitive use of flowers and undersea motifs. Memorably, an intricate shadow of a whale appeared on a white plastic sheet as Edna and Launa lay below.
The set perfectly portrayed Edna’s inability to let go, covered with visual remnants of Launa: her childish drawings hung above the stage, a constant, haunting presence. I had some questions about the ending, as I felt some loose ends were not tied up, and it seemed as if Edna’s pain would simply continue – nothing having been clearly resolved with Jo. This is a small critique amongst what I felt was an ambitious and holistically impressive production – it is rare to find a play about grief so fun to watch. Tidal Theatre deserves a higher profile.
Real tennis? What, as opposed to fake tennis? No, real as in Real Madrid, as in royal. That’s perhaps not the best way to describe it, but it’s somewhere to begin explaining what Oxford’s real tennis club – or rather, tennis club – is all about. On a Thursday afternoon, professionals Craig Greenhalgh and Nick Jamieson are restitching a batch of real tennis balls by hand when I visit: unlike the fuzzy lawn tennis balls you’re probably more used to, real tennis balls are heavier, entirely handmade, and their skins have to be replaced every two to three weeks. I’m supposed to watch their practice session, but I’m early and the group before are still going at it. “There’s a couple of 90 year olds on there right now”, Greenhalgh says.
This sounds quite frankly implausible to me: I don’t think I’ve ever seen a 90-year-old do a sport that isn’t tai chi. Jamieson pauses his work to take me through the clubhouse into the court itself so I can witness it with my own two eyes, but what we enter isn’t anything at all like what I expect. Imagine, if you will, a much smaller and completely enclosed indoor tennis court done up in the new colours of Balliol bar. Imagine that at one end of the court, at Player A’s back, there’s netting instead of a wall, behind which there’s a little seating gallery for spectators. Now imagine that, on that court, there are four men with completely white hair having a genuine go at this game. “Nasty serve, Nigel”, Jamieson calls, and one of them chuckles in acknowledgement.
Veiled by netting – which I learn is called the dedans – I still flinch when a ball comes arcing toward us; unbothered, Jamieson gets up to prepare for his session. “Tea?” he offers.
Plenty of sports today – tennis (real or otherwise), fives, handball, squash – owe their origins to jeu de paume. Literally translating to “palm game”, it was a game played in France in monastery cloisters around the twelfth century that involved hitting the ball with – you guessed it – your palm. Made popular in England by its monarchs, by the 1500s real tennis had evolved into its modern form: rackets, convoluted rulesets, and all.
Built in 1798, the court in Oxford is the second oldest in the country, behind only the one in Hampton Court Palace, where Henry VIII played. To my surprise, it’s also one of the busiest in the world: “We’re booked out 7.30am to 10.30pm, every day of every week,” Greenhalgh says.
Historically both elusive and exclusive, real tennis precedes what we think of as tennis by about three hundred years. Mostly the domain of nobility, it started falling out of favour compared to lawn tennis in the 1800s because of its difficulty and inaccessibility: there are now only 45 real tennis courts in the world, as compared to 3,000 lawn tennis courts in London alone. Oxford itself used to be a veritable hub of real tennis: “In the 1450s, colleges used their real tennis courts as a way of attracting people to apply,” Sir Neil Mortensen, fellow of Green Templeton and President of the Club, tells me. According to Greenhalgh and Jamieson, one of Oriel College’s buildings even used to be a real tennis court: “I’ve never been inside, but it’s the windows at the top that give it away.” They are, of course, correct. Oriel’s Harris Building, now used for accommodation, was once home to the Oriel Square tennis court where Charles I played.
With most courts in the UK located near London, how players across the country get their start is a matter of pure chance. Greenhalgh fell into it 20-odd years ago in Manchester, after a friend of his father’s let him have a go; Jamieson found it after watching videos of the sport online. The club is unlike others at Oxford in that the majority of the members are non-students: 150 senior members, like the nonagenarians I saw, make up most of the club’s activity. One of them helpfully points out his own name – “P. Hartmann” – under the 1966 runner-up column of the Grant Bates Trophy, a club-wide handicap competition. “I’ve been playing here since the 80s”, he tells me in a hoarse voice.
For students, access to the sport is often gated by wealth. Rackets, an equally absurd game that precedes squash and fosters a skillset that translates well to real tennis, is ubiquitous at Eton, Harrow, and St Paul’s, among other offenders. “Last year, all of our first team were from the top public schools”, Leon Kashdan-Brown, a third year at Magdalen College and the men’s Blues captain, reflects wryly. “Three Etonians. Wasn’t any better with the second team – it was one person from Eton, and another from Winchester.” We collectively wince in sympathy.
But the lingering miasma of elitism is slowly fading. The men’s team this year doesn’t have a single player from a public school; Kashdan-Brown himself is the first state-school men’s captain in recent memory. “All except one of my players have never touched real tennis before”, Hannah Wilson-Kemsley, a fourth-year at Exeter College and the women’s Blues captain, tells me. Those who come to the club with a background in different racket sports – most commonly lawn tennis or squash – tend to find making Blues an easier process, but the majority of student members just want to try something new and interesting. There is some truth to the stereotype of real tennis as the realm of posh old boys, Wilson-Kemsley admits, but in this day and age, the playing community is so small that any airs of snobbery have essentially evaporated. “It honestly feels like there’s a genuine desire to get more people involved. The club is happy to have anyone – anyone at all – playing the game.”
And as for BUCS? “Well, only three unis have real tennis teams, so we don’t do that”, Kashdan-Brown says, laughing. (For those wondering: it’s Oxford, Cambridge, and Middlesex University, a public research university and former polytechnic.) Instead, there’s just Varsity, and the odd weekend trip to Abingdon or Reading for a friendly match, which makes for a much more relaxed and friendly atmosphere overall – or, for Wilson-Kemsley, in comparison to OULTC, which she also captains. The best thing about it, really, is that the professionals are always on hand at the club.
“Now that I’m here, you’re being nice”, Jamieson says archly, appearing at the door to the viewing gallery. “It’s true”, Kashdan-Brown protests. “Other clubs aren’t going to have external professionals around all the time.” By virtue of the handicap system, there’s also a great deal more chances to play with people far more skilled and willing to dish out advice: when you book court time, you’re just as likely to play a fellow student as you are a senior member or a professor at the University.
“Have you got those on hand for table tennis?” Jamieson asks. (Kashdan-Brown is also president of the university’s table tennis club, which puts my count of racket sports he’s playing at about four hundred.)
“You’re looking at one”, Kashdan-Brown says, dry.
The game itself is deeply complicated, mystifyingly opaque, and still, somehow, charming. Among the many archaic rules include one where if one of the players hits the ball directly into a certain gallery, they win the point straightaway – and it’s compulsory for every court to have a bell strung up in that winning gallery, so that the echo of your victory rings through the whole building.
A sound like cracking stone interrupts the captains’ attempt to explain even more rules. Through the netting, Greenhalgh smashes the ball straight at the wall opposite; its fall is slowed by the sloping penthouse, and by the time it hits the floor it’s lost most of its momentum entirely. Jamieson steps light and fast across the court, digs it out of the corner with a clean, sharp flick – like scooping something out of the air, almost – and sends it back in a high arc, as if no force’s been put on it at all. It’s quite obviously the father of squash and tennis, but really it reminds me more of badminton: the long-necked, slender racket, the speed at which the ball ricochets off the walls, the emphasis on footwork and technique. “I always say it’s like cricket, actually,” Greenhalgh tells me between sets.
The combination of rules and the small size of the court allow for points to be won in a manner that isn’t determined by athleticism alone, and by extension for a player lifespan that’s unthinkable in most other sports. The average age of a professional real tennis player is 37; Robert Fahey, the ex-World Champion, had a stranglehold on the title for 20 years before he finally lost it at age 50. It’s these older players – often incredibly wealthy – that keep the club afloat: senior members pay £325 for annual membership, most of which goes towards offsetting the £25,000 it takes to subsidise equipment for students, who pay only £80 a year.
Finances are further pressured by the costs of maintenance. The club’s building is property of Merton College, which demands that they repaint the facade every five years. “Last time, it set us back £20,000”, Mortensen says. It doesn’t help that they receive no funding from the university’s Sport Federation. “I suppose they see real tennis as a niche, non-generalisable thing and therefore not worthy of support.”
And after? After Oxford, with its cocoon of septuagenarian support and resistance to change? Back home, the nearest court to Wilson-Kemsley is an hour away by car; for Kashdan-Brown, in London, it’s Middlesex or nothing: “I don’t think I’m going to be in a position to play at Hampton Court, Queen’s, or Lord’s.” There’s a gulf of middle-aged players – “I don’t think I’ve ever played a senior member under the age of 40”, Wilson-Kemsley says – and for good reason: once you age out of full-time education, it’s nowhere near as accessible to keep playing real tennis. (At Hampton Court, annual membership for 25-29 year olds costs £352.)
“There was a bit of an existential moment after COVID, about whether or not real tennis was still something people wanted to play”, Mortensen reflects. “But it’s coming back now, really.” When I ask Kashdan-Brown whether he agrees with that assessment, he tempers his own optimism: “What I’m seeing, on my end, is this flow of students coming in and out.” From the outside, things look grimmer: the court in Middlesex faced closure in 2022, citing “limited impact on students”.
“It’s not like padel.” On this, at least, Mortensen and Kashdan-Brown agree. Real tennis is never going to be a growing sport; it’s an ancient one kept alive by the efforts of a dedicated, unexpectedly lively community. So, in a Schrödinger-esque dilemma: taking off or dying out? As long as you keep walking down Merton Street—who can say, really?
The Oxford College Barges Preservation Trust are fighting to save the Corpus Christi barge, one of Oxford University’s last remaining barges, from falling into disrepair.
The preservation trust have launched a fundraising campaign to restore the barge. They spoke of the importance the boat has locally, saying it has “found a place in the hearts of the local community”.
The Trust is looking to raise £100,000 so that the barge can be restored to its former glory in time for its 100th birthday in 2030. David Thomas of the Trust, a committee chair, trustee, former tenant, and alumnus of Corpus Christi, told the BBC that without sufficient funding, “the condition of the boat will go so far that we won’t be able to save it”.
Thomas has championed a crowdfunding campaign that has now raised more than £11,000, and this year the barge opened for two days in September and received 483 visitors.
Corpus Christi College’s first barge was built in 1884. After it’s eventual degradation, the replacement and current barge was built by local Oxford business Salters’ Steamers in 1930, costing £3,000. It was in memoriam in honour of an alumnus of the College who died in the Battle of the Somme. Cherwell understands that the boat was the last of its kind to be built.
The University’s barges used to be moored in Christ Church Meadow and were used as changing rooms and launching points for rowers. The Corpus Christi barge is now one of the last remaining one in operation. Most fell into disuse during the 1960s and 1970s as colleges stopped prioritising their upkeep and replaced them with new boat houses.
In 1966, the Oxford College Barges Preservation Trust was founded by Sarah Hosking, a 25-year-old art teacher, alongside a group of students Their aim was to preserve the remaining barges. Robert Maccoun, a ship-building engineer, was also asked to be a consultant on the project and contributed to rescuing and maintaining the remaining barges.
To ensure proper upkeep and avoid vandalism, the Corpus Christi barge is inhabited by members of the Trust’s committee. Currently, Zanna Hoskins, a committee member of the Preservation Trust, lives in the barge with her family, having previously lived there twice in the past. Occupation of the barge changes to a different member of the committee every three years. The Corpus Christi barge is believed to have inspired elements of J R R Tolkien’s The Hobbit. David Thomassaid that Tolkien’s early sketches of the novel’s Bag End were “stunningly similar” to the barge, particularly noting its “gorgeous oval windows”.
Venture capitalist Marc Andreessen once observed that “we are heading into a world where a flat screen TV that covers your entire wall costs $100, and a four year college degree costs $1 million, and nobody has anything even resembling a proposal on how to systemically fix this.” This stark contrast is increasingly relevant in the face of a proposed 6% government levy on international student tuition fees, which currently range from £37,380 to £62,820 annually, to supposedly increase funds for maintenance grants. We need to ask: is this the right mechanism for supporting domestic students? Or is it a more palatable xenophobia under the guise of helping home students?
English higher‐education institutions currently receive over £10 billion a year in international-student fees income, meaning this levy could cost universities in the region of £620 million annually, with Oxford alone owing around £17 million each year. These not insubstantial numbers mean that the University must either choose to absorb the tax or pass it onto students, the latter being frequently criticised as an unsustainable solution. As someone already subject to the whims of international tuition prices, behind the rhetoric of helping home students lies a deeper issue – one that exposes the corruption baked into tuition-based university funding itself.
International students, who already pay triple what their domestic peers do, are being cast as convenient cash cows. The government claims the levy will strengthen the “skills system” and widen access. Yet, as the Higher Education Policy Institute (HEPI) notes, there’s no clear mechanism ensuring that the funds will ever return to universities or benefit students directly. It’s a familiar sleight of hand: siphon from higher education, promise reform, deliver austerity.
The UK is, in effect, inching toward the American model, one that I sought to escape because of how it commodifies learning and rewards compliance over inquiry. Even as an American in Oxford, my tuition costs significantly less than it would have had I attended a comparable private university in the US. There, decades of tuition inflation have created an education market where universities increasingly serve donors and political interests rather than students. When American campuses faced pressure over the Gaza conflict, several capitulated to congressional threats, disciplining students and staff for pro-Palestinian speech to preserve federal funding. The corrosion is moral as well as financial. Once education depends on market logic, intellectual freedom becomes a negotiable asset.
Oxford, for all its prestige, is not immune. The University’s cautious statements around Palestine have surely been at least partly influenced by financial pressures. If this levy passes, it will not be the well-heeled international truly paying the price, however, but those who seek refuge through education and are now being priced out. Not only may the University feel compelled to admit more international students to cope with the levy, but they will be needing to admit a certain kind of international student – one who can comfortably pay their way through these new fees.
There is an even more uncomfortable part of this to grapple with, namely that many of these students hailing from less prosperous countries for the famed Oxford education are doing so because their own universities were stripped of prestige and money as a result of centuries of colonial enterprise. To then continue to profit from their past exploitation in the form of skyrocketing tuition is doubly ironic.
Not only does the levy assume that international students come from a homogeneously privileged background, it is also not exactly forthcoming about the actual steps being taken to benefit UK students. The White Paper only states that the money from the levy will be “reinvested into the higher education and skills system”, but does not offer specifics as to how or when this will take place.
Across the UK, 19% of university students are international and at Oxford, that figure jumps to around 43%. Instead of siphoning for the very students keeping universities afloat, the government should establish a contribution system where domestic and international graduates alike pay back through earning rather than upfront fees. This approach would protect the international character that defines universities like Oxford.
Instead, the government’s proposed levy sends the opposite message: that global students are little more than cash cows, to be taxed when convenient and thanked when silent. It’s a move that imperils not only financial stability but also moral credibility.
Friends of the Oxfordshire Museum have successfully acquired an Iron Age hoard after a crowdfunding campaign which raised £11,725.
The hoard includes an enamelled horse brooch, the handle of a patera (a shallow dish used for drinking), a silver Roman coin, and a lead weight, all of which are believed to be over 2,000 years old. The items were discovered in August 2020 by a metal detectorist in Rotherfield Peppard, near Henley-on-Thames. Found inside a sealed pottery urn, the artefacts were declared as treasure under the Treasure Act for England and Wales.
244 donors contributed to the crowdfunding campaign, which attracted the support of numerous academics, including Dr Rena McGuire, Dr Sophia Adams, Professor Gary Locke, and Dr Wendy Morrison. The expertise of these academics helped explain the significance of the collection of artefacts.
Deputy Leader of Oxfordshire County Council Neil Fawcett said: “This hoard, buried nearly 2,000 years ago, really belongs to the people of Oxfordshire, so it’s fantastic to see the public rally around this campaign. Their support shows how important Oxfordshire’s heritage is to our residents and beyond the county.
“We look forward to seeing this very special hoard on display at the museum once it has been conserved. By acquiring the collection, it is safeguarded for the public forever.”
The council’s museum service is Oxfordshire’s repository for archaeological finds and was given the first opportunity to acquire the collection. A late surge in donations helped exceed the fundraising target.
Edward Dowler, Chairman of Friends of the Oxfordshire Museum, said: “The Friends of the Oxfordshire Museum are pleased to have hosted the museum’s first crowdfunder campaign. We are very grateful to the 244 people who donated. In exceeding the fundraising target, the museum team will be able to deliver enhanced conservation and create an engaging display. We are all looking forward to seeing the end result.”
The collection will eventually be displayed at the council-run Oxfordshire Museum in Woodstock. While the artefacts undergo conservation, visitors of the museum will be able to hold 3D-printed replicas.
Oxfordshire County Council are offering a special private viewing to those who contributed £20 or more to the campaign, which will take place before the collection goes on public display. Those who donated more than £200 will be named as supporters in the council’s archive.
