Icon of the Week: Lizzie Jones, Captain of Oxford University Korfball Club
By the time I arrived at Freshers’ Fair they were handing out the last of the tote bags. After rushing past the stalls for the Oxford Finance Society (the bad guys), the Oxford Climate Society (the good guys), and the Oxford Sustainable Finance Society (God knows what), it was becoming clear to me
t4t
I’ve asked around about you And get the vaguest answers, It’s not enough to paint an impression. How many grooves have you memorised To blend so well into the wall? You are a mirror, an artist of conceit, The in-between of a million things, I want to peel you off the walls bump By bump [&hel
Grassroots II
this night the night to hear to let the world run through her veins through all her veins to let to let it all of it run through his veins through all the veins to hear to hear the night this night *** The poem above recounts an evening at Saint Frideswide’s Farm, [
Won in Translation
Translation is often seen as a necessary evil. It is the imperfect remedy to the embarrassing fact that we can’t speak all the languages, to be swept under the rug and forgotten about. Translation is merely the conduit that allows us to access writings that would otherwise remain mysterious to us.
“Bigfoot, I think, needs more attention”: Cowley’s Best Cocktail Bar
The shadowy shape of a poster of a creature beckons me as I pass the wooden threshold of the little cocktail bar. Is it a big bear? Or a gorilla? All wrong. It’s Bigfoot—diversifying the mythological landscape that is Cowley Road (a parrot sits on a window sill a few shops down). Charlie and Geo
Maislie and Japlicorn
You wake to my eyes staring at you in the room where you loved me. Something rolls up from the depths of my stomach and rams against my lips. I’m sick. I can only spit bile, hold you where it hurts as you pull: drag me back to June, when your kisses were sweet, […]
On Love, and Dosas
It’s 10am on a Saturday. An unfamiliar crowd trickles in. Strings of couples, each having breakfast at my favourite South Indian restaurant in Bombay, each blissfully lost and painfully comfortable with the other. They share dosas and coffees, aspirations and casual morning slippers. Is there anyt
Easter Weekend
When time stopped, at some point between frost on the grass and the break of summer, there was a day when we all went to the river. I packed my swimming costume, optimistically, given it was the end of March. I was in a good mood, smoking again, my body was so wonderfully […]
Renaissance Lives in the Songs of Hozier
Aside from the catchy, smouldering, melancholic and husky tunes, I’ve always loved the rough ‘subject-matter’ of Hozier’s music – singing about Idealism in prison, and Chivalry fallen on his sword. It really is something else. Hozier boldly name-drops terms of immense cultural weigh