Matriculation, study, dinners. Less ducks.

Hello again! It's been a while and stuff has been happening. Hence this will not be a blow-by-blow description of my last 2-3 weeks - I'm aiming more for one of those "all killer, no filler" highlights packages, of the sort you have to use to explain cricket to Americans. We'll see how we go. But first of all, a little point of clarification: when I said "they seem to cope" in my last post, in relation to undergraduates living in the monks' cottages, I meant the cottages, not the undergrads. I have far more faith in the ability of undergrads to survive 700-year-old cottages than the other way around. Enough said.

Now that's sorted out (sorry), what have I been doing in this beautiful place? Well, for quite a lot of the time (as some of you will be pleased to know) I have been reading an awful lot about the history and philosophy of science - often in libraries where you can sit next to a view like this: (For the aficionados, that one's from the Radcliffe Science Library.) Hard life, I know. Soon I will get used to all the old buildings and I will start pinching myself. Classes have been interesting, and the "prof", while delivering many of his lectures in a style that could only be described as "non-linear", continues to say outrageous things, a few of which I will try to report soon. The rest of the course is taught at the Wellcome Unit for the History of Medicine, which is basically two converted houses on Banbury Road filled with friendly and focussed historians, not far from my college. Nothing is far from my college. Nothing is far from anything. Now that I have a bike, I am even getting to most things on time. :-)

Rhodes House has staged a welcome day and a black tie "Coming Up Dinner" since my last post. (For the uninitiated who are imagining a dinner that is perpetually postponed and never actually arrives, 'coming up' is the traditional way of describing arrival in Oxord. Apparently Oxford is 'higher' than everywhere else, although you wouldn't think so from the amount of water around the place. And whatever you do, don't get "sent down"!) I ended up as one of the, er, lucky few at the high table for the dinner, which put me next to the Chair of the Rhodes Trust, Lord Waldegrave and a lovely politics student from India called Namrata. He served on Thatcher's cabinet and she is a communist; I scratched my chin thoughtfully:
At the very least, we had a good view of the rest of the room - quite a night:
Following four spectacular courses at Rhodes House, many of us proceeded to take over a bar in central Oxford. Here, Michiel (South Africa), Ryan and I try to maintain our dignity in the face of unwanted photography...
..before discovering said dignity is much more easily maintained in the presence of the glamorous Jen, from Canberra. Well, almost:
As you can see, the night got a bit blurry at either end of the lens, fun was had by all and the real winner was the guy running the kebab van between that bar and home. Kebab vans are ubiquitous in Oxford after dark, and every now and again that is a really good thing. Mmmm, chips'n'cheese'n'hummus.....

The "Rhodent" crowd make great company and it has been amazing meeting them. This is Liz, an engineer from Brisbane and a closet kleptomaniac, who following a "bop" (ludicrously quaint word for a college party) at the end of First Week decided to take a discarded television home with her in a discarded shopping trolley (it's amazing what you find lying around a college during the first week of term...):
It was funny at the time. About six hours later, I was shovelling myself into an academic gown, white bowtie and full "subfusc" catastrophe in order to "matriculate", which means formally becoming a member of the university. At least the struggle out of bed was greeted by an only lightly frosted, misty English morning - as witness this highly scenic picture of the Worcester lake at 9am.
Matriculation involves hordes of similarly dressed freshers crowding neatly into the Sheldonian Theatre, college by college, to be spoken to briefly in Latin and only slightly less briefly in English before filing out again and going to the pub. The latter is at least as entrenched a ritual as the rest, and The Turf (yes Margit, the one with the dodgy alleyway!) was quite a sight, packed to its venerable rafters with frocked-up first-years. Here are said frocks crowding the streets...
...and a few folks from Worcester (Vicky, Sarah, Anneka, Magnus, me and TWO GUYS WHO MUST BE ABOUT FOURTEEN!!!) along with bemused onlookers, snapped by a friend who lives upstairs on Broad Street:
Oh look, here we are again! (Actually, the funniest thing is that we have to wear this get-up for exams. Yup - this is the uniform for matriculating, for graduating, and for stressing your brains out - each of which is followed by a pilgrimage to the pub. And until we graduate, we're not allowed to put the hat on - but we *have* to carry it!)
The theatre is quite a sight, both from the outside (once you get past the bleary-eyed students)...
...and the inside, even filled with bleary-eyed students! It was designed by Christopher Wren. Not a bad little shed for its age. :-)

Good friends Peter Chicken and Lou were in Oxford that day, and both had functional cameras rather than a gimmicky mobile phone, so expect to see some more pictures of me looking silly, sometime soon. In other news, I was able to bus down to London last week and catch up with Kate and Nat from the Festy Centre, who were halfway through their enormous world trip. They are both well and they look like this, if you need glasses and your name is Samsung SGH-ZV40:

I'm going to bed. Hopefully I can get my camera fixed soon and there will be more pictures to choose from - but you get the idea. Stay in touch, folks.

I made it!

Allrighty, my debut blog entry. Exciting, huh? OK, not really. I’m only doing this because several of you said you wanted to know what I was up to; I would also like to know what I’m up to, so maybe we can work it out together. Anyway. News.

I made it into Oxford at the misty, moisty and faintly alarming time of about 7.30am, direct from Heathrow. Ryan, the SA "Rhodie" who arrived a few days earlier, helped me carry my bags to Worcester College, which is a highly convenient 1 minute walk from the bus station. From the outside it is big and, well, grey. Past the big heavy wooden door with the little bit in it that you can open and step through, the welcome from the 'porters' was very warm; I was told I looked a complete mess and should go to bed. Sent to the 'buttery' in search of a coffee, I wandered into a quadrangle that took my breath away, and still does every time I walk through it. Attempted digital re-creation follows, not quite capturing the luminous green of that lawn at 8am:


The monks' cottages on the left date from the 15th century and are now inhabited by undergraduates. They seem to cope. The dining hall and chapel are behind the camera and open onto this quad. Not a bad little place!!

From then on, my settling-in went swimmingly - in more ways than one, actually, since the city was basically submerged for the rest of the weekend. Having spoiled me with that view, Oxford decided to teach the new Aussie a lesson; by the end of the first day I had bought an umbrella, a coffee plunger and a kettle, and I was alive.

It is now a week later, and I am more than alive, though possibly just as tired as that morning. The Oxford version of O'Week is called 'noughth week' (i.e. the one before first week) and involves wall-to-wall social events organised mostly by the college's 'MCR' (Middle Common Room, which refers both to the room where the postgrad students can hang out and to the students themselves. Ourselves. Tee-hee!). There are some great people and, well, Oxford has lots of pubs. To cut a long story short, I have had very little sleep, but have met my supervisor, who is the brand new Professor of the History of Science, comes from Italy and seems to be a real stirrer. He says outrageous things and then watches, in a way that reminds me of my brother-in-law (hi Gregor!). I think we'll get on well - I do with Gregor, after all - and the course looks to be as interesting as it will be demanding: two massive reading lists every week of this term, which for a novice historian should be quite entertaining, plus three essays and four talks. Did I mention I need to get some sleep?

Anyway - finally got a walk around the college in the sunshine later in the week, during which I swallowed my pride and went completely snap-happy. This place is amazing. It has:

a lake,


ducks (below), squirrels (data not shown),


the most scenic sportsfield this side of the Adelaide Oval,


more ducks,


and *that* quad ...


...with *those* cottages (note shingled rooves and C.S. Lewis lamps).



What's more, it has my room, which is across the road and has a fridge and a bathroom (sorry, it's the obligatory my-room-at-college shot, taken on my phone because my camera needs the camera doctor; notably less scenic, but if I'd moved the dirty dishes that would've been dishonest, wouldn't it?!) ...


... and (as of last Friday) me!.



OK, next time I promise there will be more photos with people in them. People that are not me. And are not ducks. I'm going to try and keep these things brief and not boring, so I reckon little photo essays are the go. But right now I'm going to bed - thanks for listening.
I hope you are all well!