Freshers

It has definitely been way too long since I have posted anything, and as long as it has been literally, it genuinely feels as though a good few months has past since I left home. Yet I have only been here 2 weeks. Before I left the standard question I was asked usually went something like “Does Oxford even have a freshers week?” and when I replied with the affirmative, the response generally entailed “Is everything in library?”. While I will admit that yes, a lot of my freshers week was spent in the library, in fact Oxford has just as many nights out as the ‘party’ universities, and I will also highlight the fact that everyone here has a serious ‘work hard, play hard’ attitude, so nights out can become very interesting very quickly. So, for those wondering just how a freshers week is conducted in such an historic institution, I thought I would give a short summary of what I got up to:

Monday. Moving-in day. Crammed into the smallest space in my extremely over packed car, we pulled up outside college to be greeted by the head porter. The first thing we are told is that he is from Durham and instantly we are best friends. Handy. I then go and sign in and the desk, receive my keys along with an army of Second Year helpers to unload the car. We make several trips to and from my room, as I become increasingly embarrassed at how much stuff I have brought. My parents and I unpack, one of my college dad’s visits my room, and then I head down to the JCR to make friends. Here, it was highly overwhelming to be basically chucked in a room with everyone trying to make friends, and I definitely learnt about myself that I need to be more tolerant of people and more sociable. I really just couldn’t be bothered – not the right attitude! Saying this, I have made some unbelievable friends and I am certain, already, that many of these will be friends for life. At 5pm we were ushered into the grand hall for the principles welcome: “The day can be divided into 3 parts, 8 hours sleeping, 8 hours working, 8 hours playing”. This encapsulates life at Oxford. At 8pm freshers drinks began. This was basically 4 large dispensers filled with an amazing ratio of alcohol to mixer and completely free of charge. The president of the OUSU, my college great grandfather, and BNC alumni then began the famous drinking game of the Boat Race, and we all left for the UV Party at Junction slightly worse for ware, as you can imagine.

Tuesday saw many bleary eyes, bad heads and the slight beginnings of fresher’s flu (although no mumps; praise the new dispensers). My morning was pretty relaxed, just meeting more people in the JCR and trying to remember names of people I saw out the night before. I had the first meeting with my tutors at 2pm, where we were basically given preliminary information on the course, and we sorted out our timetables too. The evening saw the Parent’s Dinner, another one of the college’s traditions. This is where the college family take you to their accommodation in Frewin and cook a meal, the freshers providing the alcohol. My family meal was dysfunctional, hilarious and genuinely so much fun, and I actually love my college family and extended family (though it is rather confusing with two dads, a grandfather who is a step dad and an auntie who is also my sister – I think). Our parents then took the kids to Park End, another one of Oxford’s clubs, which has a floor solely devoted to cheesy music. Definitely my type of place.

With the fresher’s flu becoming more dominant, the lie ins getting longer and the thought of another night out almost too much to handle, Wednesday arrived. I had another meeting with tutors, followed by the OUSU fresher’s fair. Never in my life have I been so sought after. Stall after stall begging you to sign up, eyes pleading you to take an interest and, if all else fails, free food to entice you in. As with everyone else I was with, we managed to sign our lives away to societies I can’t even remember. My personal favourite was my friend receiving an email today (Monday 2nd Week) reminding her of her trial to be a bell ringer, something she has no recollection of signing up too. The evening was then the first of many Formal Halls, although this one was even more Formal than the standard Oxford Formal, as it was the ‘Tutor’s Dinner’. Those doing English were invited to my tutor’s room for pre drinks, and then we entered (extremely late) and were actually seated on the high table. This meant that for my first Formal Hall, I was sat with the Principle, Access and Admissions Rep, my Tutor and the College Chaplain. Of course, conversation was therefore very interesting. The freshers were then herded to the Duke Of Cambridge, a lovely, romantic and fancy cocktail bar, where I tried the ‘Baby Duke’ (thanks, Phil!), which I would highly recommend. Another late night ensued.

On Thursday morning I had my first of three library inductions, followed by a hasty look round the college freshers fair before another library induction. By lunch, I had been inducted into the English Faculty Library and the Bodleian Library, as well as signing up to be an access helper in college. Successful. I then had my third library induction in college and also my IT induction, where we were basically scared into never illegally downloading anything ever again! We were then sent for dinner with everyone in college who does our subject, so I went to a gorgeous, quirky restaurant called Atomic Pizza, with all the English Family. This meal was unbelievable, I had a Daisy Duke burger (definitely some sort of duke-themed plot going on) and enjoyed the company of fellow English geeks, including my college mam. For the night, we went to Wahoo, dubbed Oxford’s worst night club by many people. I would have to agree, although I probably did not help the situation by remaining sober. Leaving relatively early (about 1:30), I tucked myself up in bed with a cuppa and finished reading Jane Eyre. Lovely.

What I have failed to mention so far is the fact that in during my second tutor’s meeting we were given our first essay. Therefore, once I had my medical check on friday morning, I spent most of the day exploring the various libraries I had been inducted into. Following the standard 8 hour day of work at Oxford, I attended formal hall with two of my friends, made use of the £5 wine from DTB and got ready for the BOP. This was a fancy dress BOP with the theme B N C. I went as a nurse (a huge surprise to anyone that knows me), and definitely had my favourite night of the whole of fresher’s in the small but very cute club names Babylove.

Brunch. That is the best way to define Saturday morning’s here, whether it’s freshers week or any other week. The most amazing fry up (this saturday, after the BOP, i genuinely had 3 of everything) and where it is seemingly impossible to spend over £2. Incredible. The rest of the day I worked on my essay, and then headed down the bar to see the Group ‘In the Pink’ performing to open the Pub Quiz. These were so cool and the quiz was suitably funny. However, the most important part of this Saturday was my first experience of Hassans. Hassans is the best takeaway van in the whole of Oxford, and fulfil all my cheesy chips and gravy needs. Since this saturday, there has shamefully been many a trip to Hassans.

Sunday again brought Brunch, another excuse for an unbelievably cheap and ridiculously tasty fry up. I then worked more on my essay in true Oxford style and at 8 30 attended the first JCR meeting. Not only was this a great chance to become an active member in college by being a part of the decision making, but also Dominos was ordered for the occasion. A Win Win situation really. This was then followed by my second trip to Hassans for a late night cheesy chips and gravy feast.

While my freshers week was jam packed full of trips, events, meetings, nights out and work, ultimately I could not have asked for a better time. I have made friends, already began to learn new things, and have developed to be independent very quickly. Though now freshers week and first week is well out of the way, the pace has yet to settle down. The work hard then go metal phase seems to be incessant and the short terms of 8 weeks encourages this attitude further. It’s such an intense environment, one which I am loving being a part of. Even if I do end up shattered in 8 weeks time, at least I will have made the most of being here. Next year I will be so jealous of the incoming freshers, i will without doubt be trying my hardest to relive my own.

Applying to Oxford

Not starting at the beginning…

I have 16 days, 6 hours and 48 minutes until moving in day. When I leave my comfortable, safe, warm home and embark on life at uni. The cold, harsh, grey matter of the unknown abyss into which I’m about to fall is my future. Am I excited? Yes. Scared? Yes. Wondering why on earth I chose the uni and course that I did? Yes.

My actual application process started exactly two years ago, rather prematurely. With a fresh, bright eyed, I’ve-just-got-10A*s-at-GCSE air about me, my english teacher thought I would benefit from attending an English Faculty Open Day at the university of Oxford. How right she was!

This school trip, unlike none other, saw the return of the infamous English Department’s 24 hour trips, where the the cattle is herded onto a bus at an unearthly time in the morning (this one being 3:30am, having had school the day before), with no plan of returning before midnight the following day. While exciting, this is obviously exhausting too, without even thinking about the actual trip in between the coach journeys. Equipped with my faithful onesie, blanket and pillow, myself and 5 other hand picked students endured the 5 hour 30 min mini bus ride to Oxford. Thankfully, that day without a doubt changed my life.

On arrival, all quiet and nervous, amid the shuffles to stay with each other, we were taken to a lecture room, where we were addressed by Dr Sos Eltis, of Brasenose College. She gave an overview of the course along with everything you would expect from such an open day. There were four students there to answer questions honestly; in my adoration they seemed the coolest, most intelligent, four people I had ever seen. And they were only 2 years older than me. We were then taken by two students to tour their colleges: Keble and St Marys.

I was given one piece of advice before this school trip by my Head of Sixth form, a strong advocate of both Durham University and Cambridge:

“Don’t let yourself be seduced by the buildings, they are as equally amazing elsewhere”

Yet, walking round the pocky, dusty, orange buildings of Keble, I could not help but be serenaded by the culture, history and complete perfection of where I was. I was going to apply.

If this wasn’t enough to set me on my course, I was then privileged (and I do not use that word lightly) to attend a lecture by Simon Palfrey, also of Brasenose College. This was a lecture on the fourth dimension of Shakespeare; although I will not go into details, the insight provided in the short hour was like nothing I had ever experienced. Not only was my perception of Shakespeare altered irrevocably, but I had been bitten by the english bug, leaving with me a wound whose only plaster would be more lectures like this.

Fast forward a year. I’m now a bleary eyed, already-sick-of-my-life-but-its-only-september, Year 13 student, with a UCAS deadline of the 15th October. Before I made my final decision on which lucky uni’s I would apply to, I wanted to attend an open day with my parents. And there I was again, this time in a car rather than a mini bus, journeying my way back to Waugh’s – and now mine – ‘city of aquatint’. Before the trip, being the daughter of a professional project manager, I had shortlisted the colleges I wanted to visit, in order to choose which to apply to. Of course, Brasenose was top of that list, and after a warm welcome to the ‘happiest college in Oxford’, followed by a drop in session in Sos’ office, I knew that this was the college for me.

My personal statement was drafted and redrafted, my UCAS entry was checked and rechecked, and then came the day I had to sit the dreaded ELAT (English Literature Admissions Test). This has to be sat by all candidates applying to Oxford, as a means test which is considered in your application. It is an unseen piece, therefore preparation was limited, yet the English Department gave me mock papers and tough extracts to annotate and write about in the lead up to the day. Coincidentally, this day I also was fulfilling the Head Girl duties of doing the vote of thanks for a guest speaker, and then having a dinner with my Head teacher, Head of Sixthform and the guest speaker in a swanky, way too posh restaurant after school. As my English teacher turned to me and said as I entered the exam

“There are big days and small days. Today is a big day.”

The result of the exam ultimately decided whether I was called to interview. I was.

So now we’re in December, and the night before I head down to Oxford I am sat in my then-boyfriend’s bedroom, thinking about how pivotal the next few days could be. “You can have a good cry you know” he said, and though I didn’t, I was so tempted. The next day saw me journey to Oxford by train, alone, and make my way to Brasenose, where I was given the most stereotypical Oxford student room you could ever imagine, complete with an old, creaky, bookcase, a majestic window ledge seat, and an idyllic view overlooking Lincoln College (I think). The next four days saw me attend the most gruelling, questionable interviews ever experienced, with Sos, Simon and then a further one in St Peter’s college. I found myself not only enjoying every minute of the process, but also having new thoughts and making new connections in literature. The place is a catalyst for productivity.

It’s now January, my dad is off work and I’m at sixth form, both of us anxious for the post to arrive. When it does, Dad calls me to meet him at the school gates to fulfil my impatient self. With hands literally shaking and a heart somewhere near my tonsils, I opened the envelope. I had received my offer.

And now, as I sit with 16 days, 6 hours and 14 minutes until moving in day, it is great to reflect on the hard work that got me into the position. It seemed tough then, but now I have a reading list the size of the great wall of China that I am contending with, the toughness evidently never falters. Do I ever regret my decisions? No. Do I worry over the university and course I have chosen? Yes.

But doesn’t everyone?

My time at sixth form

As my twitter feed has become overwhelmed in the past 24 hours with the annual ‘back to sixth form’ tweets, I have found myself nostalgic thinking about my time in Year 12 and Year 13. Although I only left sixth form this summer, the time spent with my friends and teachers seems so long ago! The two years I spent there will definitely be remembered fondly.

Year 12, for myself, was pretty uneventful. I studied english literature, philosophy and ethics, history and geography, and at the end of the year, received AAAA for my results.

Year 13, conversely, was so much busier! After receiving my AS results my school thought it would be a good idea to keep all four subjects on (instead of the common route of dropping one subject). Despite my absolute hatred for all things geography related, I decided to take the advice of my head of year, sacrificing 5 extra frees a week in order to maintain my geography lessons. At the same time, I was voted to be Head Girl of the school, meaning I had a whole new world of responsibility opened up to me.

Being Head Girl was a tough, tiring and full time job, yet it was certainly the most rewarding experience of my life. When I was first given the role, it was something I knew would look good on my UCAS application, as well as something to help in developing my confidence and communication skills. However, I found it to be so much more! I was thrust, alongside the best head boy ever, into speeches, social gatherings, meetings and strange activities in order to represent the school. One day I would be having tea with the mayor after raising the Common Wealth Flag for the county, the next, I would be making a speech in a meeting of governors on why the school needed a renovation. Amongst all this, I also found myself being a buddy to 12 lower school pupils who attended a lunch time club, all of whom found it hard to make friends. Alongside doing my four A Levels, this was, at times, a struggle!

It must also be remembered that the beginning of Year 13 is also the beginning of the dreaded UCAS applications in order to gain a place at uni. I wanted to study English Lit and applied to York, Lancaster, Newcastle, Durham and Oxford. Luckily, I received offers from all five of these unis (a process which definitely will, at some point, have its own post). This, of course, was another thing in my life that required much time and effort, particularly to get the offer from Oxford. However, looking back, it was definitely worth the constant tiredness, redrafting of personal statements and full on stress that I felt in the period from September to January.

Regretfully, due to my new found busyness at school – and the fact I somehow managed to pick up a boyfriend during all of this – I did have to give up my dancing this year. I have danced since the age of 4, studying tap, ballet, modern, theatrecraft, modern jazz and irish dancing, up until the age of 18. Of course, on top of my life in school and social life, the dancing became less of a priority, and after many tears, tantrums and oscillatory decision making skills I finally quit. Hopefully, would leave me some spare time to relax…but no, I joined the gym instead!

While Year 13 was definitely the most hectic, stressful year of my life, I would certainly not change one part of it! I enjoyed myself so much; I now feel pangs of jealousy every time I see those tweets of people off to college! I not only grew as a person and student, but learnt – the hard way – to time manage, and at the end of the day I received 2a*s and 2a’s as my results. Would I go back and do it again? In an instant.

Leeds Fest

Last Wednesday saw the return of Leeds Festival; leaving the real world for 5 nights and entering the Arcadia that is Brahman Park. Of course, after long, glorious days filled with constant chilling, laughing, dancing and drinking with friends, the dreaded Monday arrives and Et in Arcadia Ego is proved to be true. Last year, I attended Leeds Fest for the first time after finishing Year 12 and can honestly, hand on heart, say that I had one of the best experiences of my life. Continuing with the pastoral theme that has somehow woven itself into this post, I am sure that I slightly do prettify the past, remembering last years festival with less rain, less mud and more dry clothes than were truly there. With this in mind, returning to Leeds Fest this year, my expectations were high.

How I was disappointed.

There are a few things to note before I fully explain my disappointment. Firstly, this year, being conscious of needing to save some dollar for uni, I decided to volunteer for the festival rather than pay the £200-and-something and be the average festival goer. Secondly, last year I camped with 50+ friends, whereas this year, there was maximum 20 of us. Perhaps I should have noted these changes and limited my expectations.

For me, volunteering at the festival was definitely the right decision. Not only did it mean I will receive a lovely refund of £230 sometime in October, just as I am settling into uni, but I also got to experience a different side to the festival. Whether this was meeting a range of people from different campsites, helping people in need, or just generally being in on the absolutely hilarious crack of the security guards, working offered a completely new perspective on Leeds Fest, and one that I would recommend to others if an opportunity should arise. However, working did limit my enjoyment. I missed the friday night acts due to my shift patterns and also found myself being cautious of when/what I drank due to an upcoming shift. Surely at a festival there should be no care in the world, yet I found myself almost scheduling when to have fun, when to sleep, when to eat. Slightly restrictive to say the least. Despite this, I would definitely work again, especially if I wanted to go to the festival but did not have the funds or was not bothered about missing acts.

I don’t know whether I have slightly out grown Leeds Fest, although I am only 18 – not a grandma – and during my time there I met many people older than me (special mention the 50 year old mackems who tried to have a dance off with me and then taught me how to break dance during my shift in purple camp). Perhaps therefore it was the crowd of people I spent my time with. While I do get on with every single one of them, it was definitely a weird mix of people, not one big friendship group, but a patch work quilt random couples and trios of friends all sewn together. This meant that conversation often ran dry around the camp fire, probably not helped by the fact everyone was either drunk, hungover or tired, and so unable to hold decent conversations. Just to reiterate though, if any of the people I camped with read this, I do actually like you and did on the whole enjoy my time in camp!!!

There is definitely not one issue that can be pinpointed as ‘ruining’ my time at leeds, and it must be said that I did enjoy myself and would definitely return. Perhaps I just had too high an expectation after last year, which was without doubt five of the best days of my life. I am sure my time at leeds this year will become progressively better as the memories grow more distant and the time spent in Arcadia is   more coveted, and there is no doubt that this will not be the last festival I attend. Maybe next year I will try creamfields, that’s all. 

 

Starting to blog

So, after months of thinking about it and wishing I had the energy to actually do it, I have finally created a blog! Here you will find incessant ramblings about my life, my loves, my hates and even perhaps the occasional book review (as an english student I feel they are compulsory). I am currently enjoying a long summer after finishing my final year in sixth form, in which I studied English Lit, Philosophy and Ethics, History and Geography, and between the mad scramble through my reading list and various holidays/festivals I am preparing to move 4 hours away from home, to study English Literature at Brasenose College, Oxford. It is highly unlikely that any of this blog will be remotely interesting; I know for a fact it will be too self-centred to hold anyone’s attention except my mams. Anyway, for anyone who wants to know about my life, be nosy or generally follow someone going through probably one of the biggest changes of their lives, you may, or may not, find it here. Enjoy x