Sunday, May 11, 2025
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Opinion – Oxford Finalists Deserve a Proper ‘Safety Net’

Ferdinand Otter-Sharp
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Opinion – Oxford Finalists Deserve a Proper ‘Safety Net’

On Wednesday 25th March I released an Open Letter to the University advocating for a ‘guaranteed minimum’ grade to be implemented to protect students particularly affected by the extraordinary circumstances of the Covid-19 crisis. It was signed by 1600 finalists; over half of this year’s finalist body. 

In the letter, I argued that sitting online exams during lockdown without a ‘safety net’ wouldn’t measure student ability so much as inequalities of home environment: inequalities such as access to books and tuition, the effects of coronavirus on the health of students and their families, amplified generalised anxiety, difficult family relationships, lack of workspace, and countless other issues.

One finalist told me that the Open Letter had been“a source of great hope and joy for me personally in a difficult time”. Another signed because they had been made to feel as though “the examiners don’t care that much about the concerns that students have.”

Numerous prestigious UK universities have since implemented ‘guaranteed minimum’ grade policies, including Exeter, St Andrews and Warwick. The day before the University of Oxford was due to announce its examination policy, the University of Cambridge followed suit, announcing that they too would be introducing a ‘safety net’.

When Oxford announced its examination arrangements, they contained several issues. Departments have been left to interpret the rules however they like. As a result, several haven’t reduced workloads whatsoever. Concerns around cheating were not alleviated by a reliance on an ‘honour code’ to prevent students collaborating. The statement (like its precursors) reads as if the only academically relevant effect of Covid-19 is the fact we can’t sit our exams in Exams Schools and the consequent uncertainty over their format.

I don’t know who in the University needs to hear this but even after examination arrangements are made clear, students will continue to struggle to revise effectively. Students do not want finals that are as close to conventional as possible, they want finals that reflect the very unconventional environment in which we are studying. We are asking for a human response to this crisis rather than a managerial one.

For students unable to take exams, the University offers a ‘Declared to Have Deserved Honours’ (read: unclassified) degree, presenting it as a ‘special class of degree’. Punishing the students most disadvantaged by the pandemic by denying them honours is unjust. Cambridge’s decision to award students their deserved classification but retain raw marks on degree transcripts is much fairer, and more closely aligned with the views of the Oxford finalist body, as outlined in the open letter. If students were likely to receive honours before the pandemic, they should be given honours now, not a tokenistic half-degree that future employers will neither recognise nor understand.

At the end of the statement, the Vice Chancellor announced a safety net policy although “the details of this are still being finalised and will be communicated as soon as possible.” It’s possible that this policy was added at the last minute in response to our letter, as well as Cambridge’s announcement the day before. This would explain its vagueness but suggest that Oxford had been intending to announce a policy considerably less responsible or fair than Cambridge and many other leading universities. If a safety net has been part of Oxford’s plans for longer than this, then there is no excuse for the continuing lack of detail around this policy. 

Oxford University has one last chance to prove its commitment to equality of opportunity, and to its duty of care for students. Details of the proposed safety net should be announced as soon as possible for all subjects, and they should constitute a “a genuine Safety Net Policy that covers allfinal year students on allUG and PGT courses” as advocated for by the Oxford SU VP of Access and Academic Affairs in an email to finalists. In addition to this, I hope that the University will reduce the overall assessment burden across the board.

More broadly, Oxford needs to reform its ideology and attitude towards its own responsibilities as an institution. So far during this pandemic the University has increased the anxieties of the student body rather than eased them, and this is part of a larger historic pattern. From access issues around class and race, to student mental health, to conservative curricula, Oxford has demonstrated that it prioritises its traditional image, wealthy donors, and high ‘academic standards’ over moral social values and the wellbeing of its students.

From nations to food delivery companies, Covid-19 is highlighting the need for bold, ethical leadership and systemic reform. The University of Oxford is no different, and announcing a genuine safety net as soon as possible would be a good first step on a positively transformative journey. When the individuals responsible for Oxford’s examination policies are asked the question “what did you do for your students during the pandemic?”, the answer “I safeguarded the academic rigour of Oxford degrees” will not be looked upon favourably.If ever there were a time to put compassion before misjudged standards of ‘academic rigour’, that time is now.

Oxford East MP appointed shadow chancellor

Imogen Duke
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Oxford East MP appointed shadow chancellor

Anneliese Dodds, Oxford East MP, has been appointed shadow chancellor in today’s reshuffle of the shadow cabinet under new Labour leader Sir Keir Starmer. Dodds, an Oxford PPE graduate, replaces John McDonnell to become the first woman to hold the position of shadow chancellor or chancellor.

Keir Starmer, a former human rights lawyer, won the Labour leadership contest yesterday with 56% of the vote. The newly-elected deputy leader, Angela Rayner, has been named chairman of the Labour party.

Lisa Nandy has been appointed shadow foreign secretary, Nick Thomas-Symonds as shadow home secretary, and Rachel Reeves as shadow Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. Jonathan Ashworth will remain as shadow secretary of state for health and social care.

These appointments make up a new Shadow C-19 Committee, which will be responsible for the Party’s response to the coronavirus pandemic.

Nick Brown has been re-appointed as chief whip, and Angela Smith remains shadow leader of the Lords. Barry Gardiner, Jon Trickett, and Ian Lavery have left the Shadow Cabinet.

Starmer has stated that: “We are living through a national emergency. Under my leadership, the Labour Party will always act in the country’s interest to save lives and protect livelihoods. That will be the number one priority of my Shadow Cabinet.

“We will be a responsible opposition that supports the Government where we believe they are right and challenge them when we believe mistakes are being made.”

Image Credit to Cicero Group / Wikimedia Commons. License: CC-BY-2.0.

Folding@Home: the virtual fight against a global pandemic

Jedrzej Burkat
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Folding@Home: the virtual fight against a global pandemic

As we all isolate at home in the middle of this outbreak, it is difficult not to feel powerless. We are not medical professionals, epidemiologists or researchers – the best one can do to help is stay home with clean hands and follow Boris’ instructions. Yet it still feels wrong to just sit around playing video games and watching Netflix. The hundreds of thousands of recently signed-up NHS volunteers would no doubt agree. Is there anything else we can do? If you own a computer or laptop, it turns out that there is!

Two weeks’ confinement in my home had driven me to the brink of despair. Iit was through the boredom-induced scrolling through Twitter threads that I found an idea which could unite people through small, yet meaningful contributions. Folding@Home seemed like the logical approach to research in the age of the sharing economy.

So what is it, exactly? Folding@Home is a collaborative project created by the Stanford School of Medicine, running on a simple principle: by distributing small amounts of workload across the computers of thousands of volunteers, one can create what is effectively a powerful supercomputer. Anyone can participate by downloading the software, which uses your processor’s computational abilities whenever it isn’t performing any demanding tasks (like streaming video or working on your thesis). Users effectively ‘donate’ the computational cycles of their PCs. 

All this power is needed for a seemingly simple task: simulating molecules. More specifically, simulating the movement of proteins at an atomic level (called ‘protein folding’) and understanding how drugs target them. In many cases, this cannot be done experimentally so a simulation is needed. Running these simulations, however, requires an unprecedented amount of calculation. An average computer would take decades to centuries to complete just one. Through Folding@Home, scientists can run them quickly and at effectively no cost. In the 20 years of the programme’s existence, it has been used for work on cancer, Alzheimer’s research, malaria, Ebola, and now the SARS-CoV-2 Virus.

The goal is drug development. Simulating protein folding gives bio-engineers an insight into drug-binding sites, which is a starting point for developing a medication to halt or hinder the spread of coronavirus. 

Will it be successful? It does seem likely. Folding@Home has so far directly led to 223 scientific publications and amassed a total computing power greater than the world’s seven most powerful supercomputers – combined! The project has recently identified a potential exploitable weakness in the Ebola virus, and in the past led to positive outcomes in identifying cancer-promoting mutations inaccessible through physical experiment. It is currently running over 20 Covid-related simulations.

More so than ever, every contribution can help. With a recent surge in sign-ups (one so high that it led to a temporary crash of its servers), scientists are optimistic. And though it isn’t much, every simulation is like a lottery ticket which could lead to a development of a life-saving drug. Who knows, maybe it could be your laptop that stops the pandemic.

Folding@Home is available for most platforms (including Android!), and can be downloaded from https://foldingathome.org/. Users can also join teams, which are awarded points reflecting collective contribution by the client as it runs in the background. The ‘University of Oxford Students’ team (number 255937) aims to measure the overall help from Oxford students, and you are encouraged to join. 

Is escapism acceptable?

Kristina Fox
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Is escapism acceptable?

We all have days where we want to get away from everything that’s happening in our lives, and even more relatable as of late. Many of us turn to films, books and music to do so, retreating into the depths of creative culture as a way of escaping. But should escapism really be the purpose of culture, or should we be actively consuming and creating things that actually reflect our reality and address its problems instead of just running away?

Firstly, I want to address the assumed subcategories of culture. Some would subdivide culture into two constituent parts. On the one hand, we have mainstream, pop, or “low” culture; on the other, the “high” culture so highly revered by academics. I bring up this divide as I think there’s a danger when talking about culture’s purpose to separate it into these two halves. In short, some people may argue that “low” culture can only mindlessly entertain, whilst “high” culture is there to raise awareness of society’s issues in a way that, they would argue, “low” culture is far too mainstream and far too base to be able to do. This distinction is dangerous, narrow-minded, and incorrect. 

Take a popular series like Derry Girls, for example. This is undeniably mainstream and provides a form of escapism in its comedic portrayal of its lovable characters. We can live vicariously through them, witness their ups and downs, laugh with them, and generally forget about the world for a bit, stuck in our little Netflix bubble. However, using 1990s Ireland as her backdrop, the creator Lisa McGee also forces us to consider the terrible impact of the Troubles through a teenager’s eyes. Of course, we can choose to watch the show without real discussion of this, but the opportunity is there and that’s the important thing.

To use another example, let’s turn to Taika Waititi’s latest release, Jojo Rabbit. This film grapples with many frightening aspects of history which threaten to make a reappearance on today’s political stage, yet does it in such a way that we both cry and laugh along with the characters. We escape from our lives into theirs, forgetting for a brief moment our own personal problems, and yet are simultaneously confronted with other ones. This is entertainment, but a thought-provoking kind. Waititi perhaps sums it up best in an interview with Vanity Fair: “People say that comedy is not an effective tool or is not something to be taken seriously as an art form. It’s one of the most powerful tools that we have to fight against oppression, bigotry and intolerance.” Comedy can be used as an escape, but that is definitely not its only function.

Similarly, sometimes a director leaves a sense of moral ambiguity in their work. It is then up to the consumer whether to use the piece as escapism, and enjoy it as is, or to probe it and question it further. Culture’s purpose can be twofold, fit for different audiences; it isn’t and shouldn’t be a one-size-fits-all model.

It’s also possible to add in our own moral judgements to the culture we consume. It might happen subconsciously, whilst watching an old rom-com on Netflix for example: making fun of it and poking holes in its out-dated, possibly sexist tropes still counts as considering society’s problems.

Of course, there is also a risk that directors or writers may try to shoehorn in moral lessons or polemic themes where they don’t quite fit, or drive home a point far too hard. When it’s forced in like this, it feels inauthentic and somewhat futile, and the audience may well refuse to engage. I think some things have been created purely as entertainment, something to pass the time, and there’s no harm in taking a break from it all now and then without having to worry about the deeper meaning. Why shouldn’t we escape reality every once in a while? 

Moving away from film for a moment, I want to take a look at a broader definition of culture. Music, for instance, is well-known for evoking our feelings and addressing pertinent issues. Protest songs provide a neat gateway into reflecting their contemporary reality and addressing its problems, something which isn’t limited to the 1960s. Even Dua Lipa’s new song “Boys Will Be Boys” feels like a direct hit against the sexist ideas that still exist in our society today. Other music, however, is created for us to just enjoy without needing to search for deeper meaning. I challenge you to analyse some of your study playlists on Spotify!

Even a brief dip into literature produces a wave of content designed to entertain, yes, but also to address the problems of the society in which it was written. Take Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles, to me a damning indictment of the Victorians’ strict moral code, or Malorie Blackman’s Noughts & Crosses, just one example of a Young Adult field story bursting with socially aware, thought-provoking ideas.

To look at things from a creator’s perspective, I’d argue that we’ve never been in a time where more has been created with a questioning or reflective purpose in mind, stretching right through from films to literature. Even stand-up comedians manage to simultaneously make us laugh whilst exposing our flaws and making us think about the bigger picture. Take James Acaster and his skit about the British Museum, for example: the bitter truth in what he says makes it a more sobering realisation that we are laughing at ourselves, and with good reason. 

So, let’s recap. What is culture’s purpose? To entertain, to inform, to raise awareness of polemic issues, or to provide a means of escapism? Personally, I think culture is aptly equipped to do all of these things. 

In the end, I think it comes down to moderation. I’m not going to jump on my high-culture horse and say that everything we consume culturally should serve a greater purpose and address every problem our society faces. Yes, culture can create change, but sometimes we do just want to watch TV and relax. That said, I think we have a certain ‘cultural responsibility’ to consume and create things that do reflect reality and address our problems now and then. With a creative community that’s arguably more attuned to doing that than ever before, I think we’ll be all right.

Sleep is for the Rich

Charlotte Hall
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Sleep is for the Rich

This may sound familiar. 
Five political prisoners are locked in a gas chamber in 1940s Russia. In a military-sanctioned experiment, the subjects are kept awake for fifteen consecutive days with an airborne stimulant. While the first few days pass relatively normally, things then start to escalate dramatically. Starting with hour-long bouts of screaming, the experiment is ultimately terminated early when the prisoners start violently disembowelling themselves and eating their own flesh. When the stimulant is switched off, however, they beg hysterically for it to be turned back on. When they ultimately fall asleep, they die. 

At various levels of gore and apparent credibility, The Russian Sleep Experiment was a popular urban myth, reposted tirelessly in 2015 on the then notorious creepypasta. The story and the website have since subsided into the dark, forgotten corners of our cultural memories (with good reason). But the idea behind the story in many ways embodies the enduring societal anxiety about the fundamental role of sleep. 

Insomnia sufferers might find a resonance with the disguised cautionary tale – bar the disembowelment and questionable eating habits. At the very least on the level of being stuck in a room night after night, staring at the same ceiling and wondering if you’re steadily losing your grip on reality. The Sleep Experiment taps into the very fear that, ironically, keeps a lot of insomniacs up at night: what happens if you never get to sleep? 

Though everyone can sympathise with having a sleepless night or two, for those who do not struggle with the sleep condition, it is hard to comprehend exactly how detrimental an effect it can have on your quality of life. While the urban myth is hysterical and unfactual, the effects of sleep deprivation are very, very real. From fatigue, short term memory problems and irritability on one end of the spectrum, to difficulty communicating, depression, paranoia and hallucinations on the other, everyday tasks move from challenging to insurmountable. 

As someone who has suffered from chronic insomnia since an early teenager, I also know how completely isolating it can seem. Feeling too exhausted to join your friends on nights out, only to hear them come back again at 5 in the morning because you’ve somehow failed at the apparently effortless task of falling asleep again – is disheartening. Being made to feel like a drug-pushing degenerate because you’ve gone back to your doctor to ask for sleeping pills again – is degrading. And at it’s worst, putting on a brave face during a tute while you’re sleep-deprived brain is projecting neon-coloured triangles around your tutor’s head – is terrifying, not to mention quite distracting. 

Most of all however, the emptiness of those early hours in the morning, as your brain goes over mundane details again and again, chants snippets of song lyrics, composes letters to your gran you’ll never write, revisits conversations from weeks ago, conjures up small anxieties and projects them onto the inside of your eyelids with inescapable vividness, all make you feel utterly alone. In the oppressive darkness of your bedroom, you fight a demon by yourself that everybody else can call a friend – or just doesn’t even think about. 

Except that’s not true. According to some studies 22% of people in the UK struggle to fall asleep every single night. An additional 15% report struggling to get to sleep at least once a week. In a single month in 2019, the NHS issued 438,399 prescriptions for Zopiclone, one of the most commonly used sleeping pills. Yet despite affecting over a third of the population, awareness surrounding the complications arising from sleeplessness is limited, and there is very little in the way of online supportive communities as there are with many other prominent health conditions. 

The availability of and accessibility to help is the bigger dilemma, however. For one, the approach to insomnia varies dramatically from doctor to doctor. Under some, patients are condescendingly reprimanded about their sleep hygiene, essentially dismissed with the instructions to do some more sport and have a hot drink before bed (and sure, for some this may be a solution). Others leap immediately to the prescription pad and hand out Zopiclone and other sleeping pills after a 3-minute conversation. 

This is despite the fact that in 2012 the Great British Sleep Survey established that those taking sleeping pills have a poorer wellbeing and associated with “greater feelings of helplessness, loneliness and being out of control.” GBSS urged the medical and psychological field to pour more funding and research into non-drug solutions to insomnia, but the reason behind the reluctance to do so is painfully apparent. Melatonin, while it does not work for everyone, is an experimental alternative to traditional sleeping pills with no known long-term complications such as developing tolerance or addiction. It costs the NHS £22.70 per prescription. Sleep programs including CBT and sleep clinics no doubt cost a lot more. Zopiclone costs them 66p per prescription. 

Recently, GPs have started indicating that the NHS might be cutting back on their facilities for sleep health, including sleep clinics for physical sleep conditions such as sleep apnoea and narcolepsy. In the absence of free treatment facilities, doctors have started directing patients to private sleep clinics. Of course, this is only an option for those who can afford it. Even the NHS online port of call for insomniacs, a program called SleepStation unflinchingly presents itself as a two-tier system, providing the option to ‘Request free NHS referral’ or ‘Buy now’. 

There’s no doubt that this will lead to inequality in the distribution of health services. Not to mention the fact that it will ultimately cost the NHS more money to address the long-term physical implications of chronic insomnia cases, which can lead to diabetes, cardiovascular disease, anxiety and depression and drug or alcohol dependence. 

My doctor, conceding that when he had last contacted the only NHS-run sleep clinic in Oxford, they had told him their specialist had left several months ago and they were unable to find a replacement, has also made the suggestion of private sleep clinics. He made a good-humoured joke about hoping I had rich parents and when I suggested to pay for the treatment with my student loan, instantly protested. But this is the position that the growing privatisation of “periphery” health facilities will be putting a lot of students in. And they’ll be removing the choice entirely for those in positions less fortunate than myself. 

Sleep is a fundamental need. Sleep is not just for the rich. Surely, we should not unprotestingly be heading towards a world in which sleep quality becomes an indicator of wealth. To me, that sounds just as nightmarish as the Russian Sleep Experiment. 

A little clueless never hurt nobody: the value of revisiting old favourites

Devanshika Bajpai
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A little clueless never hurt nobody: the value of revisiting old favourites

Social media and news feeds in the wake of the pandemic have been full of enthusiastic headlines that suggest “Ten New Hobbies” to pick up, :The Award-winning Movies of 2019 You Missed” to watch, “Fifteen Trail-Blazing New Books” that you forgot to read in the early months of 2020. Just because we are vegetating physically within our homes, goes the feeling, does not mean we will also culturally stagnate. There is a consequent sense, worldwide, that this extended period of hiatus has allowed us to play catch up with pop culture and its artefacts— film, television, books and even activities— that have been constantly changing and updating while we were apparently stuck in our respective rat-races in the outside world. Yet what of those who will find this the perfect time to indulge in a kind of nostalgia, a revisit of the long summers and Christmas vacs of childhood and young adulthood that weren’t marked by deadlines or whirlwind trips abroad? They will rediscover the cheesy animation, the boarding-school adventures, and questionable outfits of a bygone era. Are we less culturally involved or intellectually stimulated than those with last year’s Pulitzer winner on their to-read list?

My friends and I have been using the wonderful Netflix Party extension to check off movies from a BuzzFeed list entitled ‘How Many Of These 50 Iconic Rom-Coms Have You Seen?’: using social distancing to immerse ourselves in the romantic clichés of the 1990s and early 2000s that we watched at high-school sleepovers. As the credits began to roll on maybe the fifth such film, my friend asked the question on all of our minds— why do we suddenly hate the protagonist of every rom-com? Scrolling through the texts we sent during the movie, I realised we had indeed been spending our time commenting on how much these characters’ actions, attitudes and dialogues were bothering us.

According to one Guardian writer, “re-reading is a crime”. It seems one must broaden their horizons rather than re-reading a novel, because the only real reason for a re-read, and this extends to a re-watch, is that we didn’t understand the thing in the first place. But in context of our rom-com binge, putting aside the obvious condescension of watching in a different era where we literally do understand more — think of the collective cringe at yellow-face Mickey Rooney in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, or the questionable content of Grease lyrics — there was something deeper, a specific revulsion from these characters and their actions that was caused by more than just our political correctness. These characters had always been this way: we as viewers were the ones who had probably been less aware, less cognisant of how Mia’s behaviour in the Princess Diaries was not awkward so much as plain rude, less understanding of how Mean Girls’ Cady Heron is herself a terrible friend. Rather than considering how and why the movie wanted us to respond a certain way, we once gave into the construction of “villain” and “heroine” that necessitated justifying all the protagonist’s terrible actions, whilst vilifying the justified actions of the antagonist. The countless articles and YouTube analysis videos that re-watch and comment upon the flaws and issues of films and TV shows considered cultural classics are testament to how much we want to make up for our earlier acceptance by retrospective re-evaluation of the very works we loved.

Maybe, then, the surprisingly strong annoyance one feels toward these characters upon re-watching is not just an expression of how problematic you now find them, but further enhanced by a desire to separate yourself— pointedly and uncompromisingly— from the past version of you that did root unquestioningly for a cringe-worthy rom-com heroine. Re-watching allows us to change and to recognise that growth within ourselves; not only have we actually evolved as people, but we learn to see ourselves as those more evolved people, more socially conscious, more in-the-know than ever before.

Yet there is little reason that our beloved films and books have to be outgrown and left behind to focus on more contemporary cultural content, and the fact that we understand them differently now does not invalidate how we loved them before. With literature, the “cultural continuity” of books has often been used as a yardstick for whether they can be considered classics or not. Recall the high-school English teachers harping on about the continued relevance of Shakespeare because everyone can at some point in their lives relate to the existentialism of Hamlet, or how the Great Gatsby was re-read to sympathise with Daisy in the late-20th century ages of feminist protest. Why is there an insistence that other cultural works cannot undergo a similar evolution, if at an individual level, under a shorter timeframe? Letting go of an old understanding is not the same as letting go of a cultural production altogether: take the Twitter and Instagram threads defending Sharpay Evans from High School Musical as opposed to protagonist Gabriella Montez, none of which denigrate the High School Musical series itself. Rather, those who grew up alongside the series have realised Sharpay’s character arc— a girl who is trying to win the heart of a boy she likes as well as excel in her field, using whatever means necessary — is more relatable than that of the perfect, self-sacrificing Gabriella.

Finding new characters to relate to and new aspects of these films to love mean we retain the significance of their role as sources of comfort, while still engaging in stimulating exercises of analysis and understanding like we would with newer works. There is no harm in reframing these current feelings of isolation and entrapment as a nostalgic summer of endless promise by pressing play on Clueless for the fourth time, because we will inevitably stop to consider whether we, too, could pull off wearing yellow plaid to work.

Oxford’s Best Chip Van: A Highly Scientific Study

Liv Fugger
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Oxford’s Best Chip Van: A Highly Scientific Study

It has long been the cause of much adversity: college has turned against college, student against student…oh yes, it has even caused BNOC to turn against BNOC – a terrible thing indeed.

The sheer ruckus surrounding it can only be said to rival that caused by the closure of Emporium, the unprecedented replacement of the Toffee Deluxe Quality Street with the Chocolate Caramel Brownie (an unforgivable offence), and even the disappearance of the dancing pole from the second floor of Bridge (It still hurts to think of it. Bridge Thursdays have never been the same.)

This fiery debate centres on one vital question: which Oxford chip van is the best?

When one poor soul, lulled into a confidence that only three VKs consumed in Park End can provide, dared to conjecture that Posh Nosh served up Oxford’s best chips, they were expelled from the cheese floor before they had the chance to listen to ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’ for a fourth time. A cruel fate indeed, especially for the Park End frequenter, to whom such a judgement proves to be the most heinous of all, living for the repetition of such tantalizing rhythms.

It was high time for someone to put an end to this age-old dispute and I thought that I, being an English student, and thus not knowing how to conduct a fair test, would be a slightly below average person for the job, so I took the burden upon myself to do so.

This was a wholly unbiased study.

First and foremost, I needed a representative selection of chip vans.

An entirely fair scientific process ensued. I based the following selection of chip vans exclusively on the advice of a slightly tipsy curtain-haired boy outside of Fever. Thinking back, he probably wasn’t the most reliable of sources. He did, however, repeatedly reassure me that these vans were ‘absolutely f***ing yummerzz mateee’ so I’m taking that as commendation enough, resulting in the following four vans being chosen:

  • Hassan’s
  • Solomon’s
  • Ahmed’s
  • McCoy’s

Secondly, I needed to ensure that the other variables were controlled.

  • I had the same three people, along with myself, taste-test each of the different chips. These persons shall remain anonymous for their safety, lest their views cause too much uproar among certain dedicated chip van supporters. They shall henceforth be identified only as anonymous persons 1,2 and 3.
  • From each van the same order was placed: a small portion of chips with ketchup on the side.
  • Each chip was to be tested according to the same three categories: appearance, crispiness and flavour.

With this established, the plan was complete. All that remained was to journey to the vans, obtain the chips, and return them to my delightfully beige accommodation for testing.

Ahmed’s

The most potato-esque of the bunch.

With their speckled appearance and knobbly surface, we sought much needed comfort in the fact that these chips did indeed seem to have originated as real potatoes.

Each glance seemed to transport us away from the surrounding 1960s architecture to a kind of pastoral bliss. Indeed, anonymous person 2 seemed entirely captivated by their rustic charm.

An admirable crispiness, and a rich flavour perfectly accommodated its attractive exterior.

Special mention goes to the ketchup, which had a certain vibrancy that I had never quite encountered before, nor will I ever again, I believe.

McCoy’s

Nestled between St Aldate’s Church and Pembroke College, McCoy’s is a hidden gem.

The aesthetic of these chips is truly something else. Each chip is seemingly identical in size and appearance, and the neatness of it all is truly a wonder to behold.

Anonymous person 3 was so enchanted by their uniformity that they were rendered quite speechless.

With an exquisite taste to top it all off, these chips are exactly what you need after a regrettably messy night in Park End.

Soloman’s

Direct, unadulterated quote from anonymous person 1: ‘that’s f***ing delicious.’

In fact, with this, anonymous person 1 seems to have perfectly summed up these chips: they truly are ‘f***ing delicious.’

A perfect crispiness and flavour, it seems that these chips can really do no wrong.

Hassan’s

It is purported that when you leave Oxford you will either have a spouse, a blue or a first – regardless of which you leave with, it is impossible that you could leave without having tried these chips.

Truly the BNOC of the Oxford chip scene, it seems that its status is unparalleled.

With a masterfully crispy exterior and a light and fluffy inside, the delicious taste of a Hassan’s chip is undeniable.

Appearance 10/10, Crispiness 10/10, Flavour 10000/10

These chips have been, and will remain God-tier.

Conclusion:

After much heated debate and rigorous scientific testing between myself and anonymous persons 1, 2 and 3, a winner was decided upon.

*Drum roll please*

The title of best chip van in Oxford was awarded to…

Hassan’s

It was a tough competition, with all participants deserving of much commendation and respect. But it was clear that there was only one true van to which one should journey to get the necessary chips after stumbling out of Park End, and that one true van was of course Hassan’s.

*DISCLAIMER: despite the overwhelming scientific evidence pointing towards Hassan’s as the superior chip van in Oxford, I must state that McCoy’s is in fact the best chip van. This alternative conclusion is, but of course, utterly unbiased, impartial, and entirely objective. It has absolutely nothing to do with any college loyalty to this particular chip van – I would never allow such a thing to affect, or cloud my judgement, on matters of serious importance*

Calm Down About Your Five-Year Plan

Timea Iliffe
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Calm Down About Your Five-Year Plan

The five-year plan is an invisible timeline that you can either craft for yourself, or have written for you by others. It dictates the big steps that a young professional can take to reach their dreams and goals; the extra-curriculars, the internships, the degree classification, the first job out of university.

You can basically fall into two camps; someone who has one – the career plan, the dream firm, and an actual LinkedIn account – and someone who’s still working it out. The universal, I think, is that we’ve all felt the twinge of anxiety that comes from meeting someone who seems to have it all figured out, who knows where they have been and seems to know exactly where they are going.

Though different for each person, the five-year plan seems to end its maker at one of three end goals: finance, consultancy, or law. Politics or journalism, if you’re feeling adventurous. This isn’t to say, of course, that going into a career in any of these sectors is necessarily a bad thing. There are obviously worse things in life than working diligently at your degree, building a marketable CV and going into a well-paid job in a competitive field. But it’s worth asking where the five-year plan comes from, and why it’s so insidious here in particular.

It makes sense that the five-year plan is so attractive for Oxbridge students, particularly those for whom “getting into Oxford” has been a goal for so long. If you have spent a year or longer frantically working at the ever-more competitive application process then you have already trained to compete with your peers in a familiar, regulated way. You have already achieved a marker of societally-approved, parentally-sanctioned, institutional success and it can feel difficult to know exactly where to go from there.

The straight path from a place like Oxford to a place like Deutsche Bank, or McKinsey, or the Magic Circle can feel as familiar as the path you took to get here. The undergraduate who has their second-year internship planned out, who is lining their CV from the first term they get here, is only going to feel the same safety and warmth of validation they got from their acceptance email.

This isn’t to say that it’s something to be criticised, but it is something to be questioned. Oxford is a place that often attracts a certain personality type; the dedicated, the ambitious, and the person who has grown so used to working under pressure that it can feel uncomfortable not having a goal to aim at. Ambiguity about what you want the rest of your life to look like is, after all, completely terrifying. 

Oxford is not a place that leaves a great deal of time for self-reflection. We should all think about asking the critical questions, even if it is only for a moment. Have you decided what the you of your late twenties is going to look like, or have you just chosen from a list of options offered to you?  Have you decided what success for you actually looks like, or do you just want to be successful, whatever that means? Do you know what you want to do, or are you just afraid of not knowing?

Antisocial Media

Isobel Merriman
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Antisocial Media

Between digging the bunker in the back garden and foraging for loo roll, I’ve mostly been scrolling through Oxlove recently, becoming increasingly invested in the plights of Oxford romantics. Encouraged by the prospect of months in ‘isolation’ students are taking to the internet, “sliding into DMs” or releasing the family carrier pigeon to tell people how they really feel about them. Aside from being a startlingly British response to a global pandemic (“You mean I won’t have to see them for six months? Ample time to recover from any awkwardness? Fabulous, I can send that text then!”) I think it’s the smallest of silver linings in this difficult time, and should be nurtured rather than dismissed. 

When it comes to sending a potentially rash message, I’ll be the first to admit that I can be a little too trigger happy. A few of you may even be reading this and reminiscing on an overly-forward, potentially awkward, ‘you-weren’t-meant-to-actually-acknowledge-that-in-writing’ message you’ve received from me. If so, I would say I’m sorry but the likelihood is I’m almost certainly not. Maybe this is because I don’t like rollercoasters, but nothing else gives me the same rush of adrenaline that I get after pressing send. Nothing beats the dizzying high of hindsight when you realise the message you’ve sent, currently rattling down the airwaves, is akin to the start of your own personal disaster film. (You know, the scene where the beach goes quiet and the tide retreats, or the one with the distant, ominous rumble before the ground starts to fall away.) Perhaps I just like the drama, but I think there’s a little more to it than that. I should stress that these messages are never malevolent. They normally take the form of reckless admissions of attraction or nosy questions about unclassified situations – the messages we all want to send, but that most of us rarely do.

I’ve never been very good at following the unwritten rules of online conduct and more often than not they really irritate me. The idea that when people are ‘active’ they could be doing anything from brushing their teeth with facebook open, to chatting to other people and choosing not to prioritise you, particularly bugs me. The fact that someone can ignore your message without actually ignoring it, but you can pretty much assume that they are, though you have no right to call them out on it without coming across as petty and ridiculous, is insane. It’s the perfect crime; elegant, stylish and completely infuriating in the way it renders you utterly helpless, bound by social media etiquette. Consider too, the concept of leaving someone ‘on read’. In a modern digital age this is a devastating insult and as a result conversations often drag on painfully until one party manages to gracefully extricate themselves. Or worse, it’s used as power play – a way to assert your dominance and claim the greater degree of ambivalence in an uncertain relationship. The idea of ‘messaging first’ can be anything from a white flag, to a sign of interest and the ironic use of emojis continues to baffle me. Not to mention the fact messages are often carefully edited to be as short as they can be, ‘brief and breezy’ rather than heartfelt and sincere. At this minute more than ever I’d rather receive a long, rambling message that strikes a genuine tone, than continue this weird digital dance. 

Thankfully now, with the world turned slightly upside down, people are turning their backs on this performative interaction for something far more real. They’re defiantly messaging first and frequently, writing bravely and honestly. Yes, you should tell that person you’ve always secretly thought that they were the bee’s knees! Or query that one time that person did that thing, that could have been flirting, or could have just been the result of one too many glasses of wine – find out what it meant. Ask the questions you want to ask and say the things you want to say. It can be incredibly cathartic. It can be (in times as dull as these) an absolute thrill, bonus points if it’s someone you’ve never messaged before. There’s no relief, no matter the consequences, like finally being able to blurt out how beautiful you think someone is, or eventually asking that burning question. This is the way we should be! We’re a sociable species and whilst rejection (or 18 hours with a message left unopened though the recipient is persistently, irritatingly active) is never particularly pleasant, there’s never been a better time for it than now.

There is no lovelier thing than a random message from someone near or far, with a message of love or a subtext that smacks of bravery. Life isn’t that long, love and meaningful friendship is more than worth the risk and in adhering to the current unwritten rules we’re denying ourselves happiness. It can be scary to be vulnerable, even with our closest friends, but why not send them a message of appreciation at a time when it’s easy to feel lonely or overthink the relationships founded or furthered at Oxford.  We have so much love to give and we shouldn’t restrict it to carefully timed heart emojis or the odd drunken reveal. (I’m still waiting for my future husband to read my articles, fall madly in love with me through only my words and reach out to me – just saying.) But that said, nothing made me beam more than a friend messaging me this week out of the blue, just to say she was thinking of me. In a time of isolation we have to fight to stay connected and we should all learn from the brave people of Oxlove who are casting off the shackles of socially acceptable messaging in the pursuit of a connection. They may be shrouded in anonymity, but they are still managing to be more open and honest than the rest of us put together. Let’s change that. Let’s make a generation of brave, open people the legacy of this surreal time. 

Bread Making, Simplified

Caitlin Overmeyer
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Bread Making, Simplified

There are many different love languages, but for many people, including myself, bread is one that shouts above the rest. A good bread can fill the soul with warmth and comfort, something that seems to be needed now more than ever. In this trying time, I have taken it upon myself to fight the good fight for all bread lovers out there and present you with a solid bread recipe that can be easily recreated at home. All it takes is time, patience, and a lot of love. 

Two weeks ago, I arrived home to the United States from Oxford, into the midst of panic and hysteria about the pandemic we have all come to know and definitely not love. One of the first necessities to fly off of grocery shelves was, of course, bread. Luckily enough for me, I happened to have some yeast and flour at home, and so my path to bread making was born. I am an avid baker, and have been extremely sad while at Oxford with no access to an oven. I have never baked bread before, and it has always been explained to me as a hard process to do. That week, I made a simple white sandwich bread loaf that turned out delicious and tasty, but I hungered for something more challenging, and for more bread. 

Enter in the no-knead Dutch oven loaf. I have seen this type of bread making method, putting slowly risen dough into a Dutch oven and baking it, numerous times on various cooking shows. I was intrigued by the no-kneading aspect, as I hate the messy process of flour-covered counters and sticky dough hands. This particular recipe jumped out to me in a New York Times article as it was their most requested recipe, and so I decided to try it out. 

I made a couple of tweaks to the recipe based on recommendations by commenters. Firstly, I used active dry yeast instead of instant because that’s what I had on hand. Secondly, I proofed the bread for all rounds in the bowl, up until the moment of baking. This just made it less messy and easier to control. The process of making the bread was extremely easy, and I proofed the dough overnight for the recommended 18 hours. You will want to either set a timer or mark down when you begin proofing your bread, as overproofing can damage your carefully created gluten strands and cause the bread to collapse. 

The dough before and after proofing.
Photo courtesy of Caitlin Overmeyer

When it came to baking time, I plopped my bread into the warm Dutch oven, covered it, and let it do its thing. The final result, after baking it uncovered for another 15 minutes, resulted in a delightfully crunchy exterior. I let the bread cool for about 15 minutes before I cut into it for a taste. The fermentation overnight resulted in a subtle sourdough  flavour reminiscent of a French-style baguette, and a chew that had a nice mouthfeel. The crust was perfectly crisp, a nice contrast to the soft interior.

This bread has since served me as a delicious toast with eggs for breakfast, and as the perfect base for an afternoon sandwich. In my opinion, fresh bread should be consumed as quickly as possible so that it retains its crunch on the outside and doesn’t become gummy on the inside. Once you taste this bread, I guarantee that it will not last on your counter for very long. 

This recipe is baker friendly for all levels of expertise, and I was shocked by how little I had to do for it to turn out perfectly. I do wish I had gotten a more even shape on the bread, as it didn’t spread on its own whilst baking as the recipe said. The amount of time it takes to create the perfect bread makes you feel as though you’re being productive, something many of us probably need during lockdown.

If you happen to have yeast and flour, try making this bread. It is hearty, warm, and a perfect complement to any meal. It’s also likely to keep you from going insane while you’re at home, and we all know we need a little something to keep ourselves grounded. Add this to your baking wheelhouse, and you’ll surely impress your friends. At least, once this is all over. For now, treat yourself. You deserve it. 

The finished loaf.
Photo courtesy of Caitlin Overmeyer

No-knead Dutch oven loaf

Ingredients:
3 cups of all purpose or bread flour, and more for dusting
1 packet of active dry yeast or instant yeast (roughly ¼ ounces if measuring by hand)
1 ¼ teaspoons of salt

Method:

  1. In a large bowl combine flour, yeast and salt. Add 1 5/8 cups of room temperature water, and stir until blended; dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rest at least 12 hours, preferably about 18, at warm room temperature at about 70 degrees.
  2. Dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it; sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let it rest for about 15 minutes.
  3. Using just enough flour to keep the dough from sticking to the work surface or to your fingers, gently and quickly shape the dough into a ball. Put back into the bowl carefully, seam side down. Cover again and let it rise for about 2 hours. When it is ready, the dough will be more than double in size and will not readily spring back when poked with a finger.
  4. At least a half-hour before the dough is ready, heat the oven to 450 degrees. Put a 6- to 8-quart heavy covered pot (cast iron, enamel, Pyrex or ceramic) in the oven as it heats. When the dough is ready, carefully remove the pot from the oven. Slide your hand under the dough and flip it into the pot (you can also just turn the bowl over and it will likely fall right out); it may look like a mess, but that is okay. Shake pan once or twice if dough is unevenly distributed; it will straighten out as it bakes. Cover with lid and bake for 30 minutes, then remove lid and bake for another 15 to 30 minutes, until loaf is beautifully browned. Cool on a rack. Enjoy!

This recipe is based off: https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/11376-no-knead-bread

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