Don’t get me wrong, I love my college. I’d proudly defend it against most criticisms. But it does have one major flaw: the absence of Sunday Brunch. So, to overcome this tragedy, and in the hope of appeasing my hangover with some much needed sugar, I headed out last week to the Green Routes Café in Cowley.
Growing up, the loving companionship of animals had been a constant for me – a living, breathing reminder that life is worth treasuring and slowing down for. Yet, now separated by hundreds of miles, at university the happiness I had felt amongst my animals began to dissipate. That is, until I saw the cat tree in my college lodge and heard the tip-tapping of four paws across the wooden floor.
I kept noticing this decidedly cool bar a little way down the Cowley Road. With fairy-lights strung across its wooden terrace and ‘Bigfoot’ scrawled in playful letters across the glass, it seemed slightly out of place on Cowley Road.
We all know that Oxford can feel like a bubble. Every day brings new challenges and new deadlines, to the extent that a week can pass in an instant and there is just no time to peek outside of the blinkered existence of tutorials and the occasional pub trip. But this tunnel vision can become restrictive, and even self-perpetuating.
Brunch is a particular love of mine. Between the poached eggs at Brasenose brunch, the coconut pancakes at The Handle Bar Cafe, and huevos rancheros at the Oxford Brunch Bar, there is no shortage of weekend brunch options in Oxford. The Breakfast Club could have been a perfect addition to this lovely list - alas, it did not make the cut.
All it takes is for me to catch a glimpse of a boy on a VOI and I’m out. It’s now possible to designate a character trait as a red flag and rule someone out completely. What happened to second chances?
It feels natural to carry sadness for moments missed, for the advice that might have been shared, and for the unique kind of love that could have shaped your life.
Describe yourself in 6 words or less. Find your passion. Find your purpose. Can your passion become your career? Can you monetise this? Can we monetise this? Can you make us money?
In many of these residents, I also saw glimpses of my Nan, realising she wasn’t alone in her inner conflicts between feeling cared for and feeling controlled.
Sitting next to Shamil, Kavi, and their loved ones made us feel part of the Dishoom family; sharing plates and insights on life over various cocktails made four hours fly by. From cocktails to curries, Dishoom's Permit Room exceeded all expectations.
The facts of Oxford are far ahead of its fictions, creating a peculiar disjunct in the identities of its undergraduates. Each student must battle with either “I’m not your stereotypical Oxford student!” or “I am your stereotypical Oxford student!”
Education folklore has it that for many years, students at MIT have scrawled the acronym ‘IHTFP’ (I hate this fucking place) around campus in an attempt to express disdain for their university. After two years at Oxford, I can now report that students here often experience similar feelings.
At every late library session or rainy walk back to college, I think back to my days in fluorescent-lit, outdated offices. I think of riding a busy bus, an hour each way. I think of pointless, drawn-out meetings. And I think of all the time I wasted for no good reason.
Having spent a ridiculous amount of time working(ish) in Oxford cafés, these are some of the top tips and tricks I have learnt about attempting to navigate Oxford café culture.