Everything that happened on a tragic teenage night out in Oxford
The city of dreaming spires certainly wasn’t built with you in mind.
Living in Oxford under the age of 18 seriously limits what you can do. In a city where Spoons scans IDs for mere entry, the prospect of a truly good night out in the city of dreaming spires and extortionate pints is seemingly impossible.
Live in Oxford for long enough, however, and you’ll create enough tragic memories to compete with the Bullingdon club themselves (though hopefully not for the same reasons).
Once you've taken the bus in from your middle-class suburb of choice (which you only live in because of the marginally cheaper housing) any good night in Oxford begins at South Park, watching the sun set over the scaffolding-clad skyline with a less-than-classy multipack of warm Strongbow from Cowley Road Tesco.
Fortunately, the sub-zero temperatures of South Park act as a natural fridge, keeping those bevvies cool. Eventually you are succumbed by the risk of hypothermia. You’ve deliberated venturing closer into a metropolis of people called Benedict and rich PPE students for long enough: it’s time to hit the town.
Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a single club or pub in Oxford that can be entered by a group of poorly dressed youths. You’ve already thought of this and agreed to hit the Bullingdon on Cowley Road, accompanied by a local band which you are assured is definitely going to be the next Radiohead.
When you leave, drenched in other people’s sweat from the low ceilings, you need to cool down. Of course, G&D’s serve the best ice creams in Oxford, but to save the 50-meter trek, you settle with the sticky chairs and disgustingly sweet ice creams of Sundaes Gelato, which always seem appealing before you’ve bought your extra large snickers and jelly bean waffle cone ice cream topped with M&Ms and golden syrup. When it ends up on the pavement outside in a very different form, you realise you’ve once again wasted your money.
If you haven’t paced along Cowley Road into the centre of town because you can’t afford Oxford’s extortionate bus fares, you haven’t truly experienced what this beautiful city has to offer. Along the road your parents always told you not to go to, despite it (probably) having less crime than Wokingham, you’ll walk almost to the point of injury before you’re even remotely close to the bus station.
You reach the bus station and it’s time to fancy up your evening with a meal out. Or at least a meal (of sorts), eaten outside.
The famous Gloucester Green pizza van will hastily prepare your greasy 12” Margherita while you anxiously check the bus time, terrified at the prospect of waiting another hour under the gloomy bus shelter for the next NS1 to take you home into your middle-class retreat.
If only you decided to have a house party.