Through a glass, darkly

On Sunday, as the sun blazed down, I packed up my college room, said goodbye to my friends – a strange goodbye since we’ll all be seeing each other pretty soon, but still a final goodbye, as it was a goodbye to a way of life.

Then, once my belongings had gone, I trundled along to St Catz, tummy rumbling in anticipation of the promised dinner party. Driven out of Holger’s room by the heat, Johann, Laurel, Natascha, Marc, Anjli and I assembled on the grass to wait for the food. And we waited, and waited, and waited. In the heat, fire alarms kept going off around college, so as we waited we were accompanied by the sounds of alarms echoing around the concrete buildings. Finally a hot and dishevelled Holger appeared, bearing the promised food, his trademark mashed potato, broccoli, fried chicken, naan, humous and grated cheese. Later I found that we weren’t the only ones enjoying a feast that night – uninvited, the mosquitoes had joined the party, and certainly seemed to have gorged themselves upon my blood, leaving me covered in huge cancerous-looking, itchy lumps. As dusk fell, we retired inside for a round of the stick-paper-to-your-head-and-guess-the-name game. People pull such interesting faces when they are thinking.

Monday was spent wondering around town being hopelessly indecisive whilst attempting to buy varsity clothing and cards for tutors. I left Marc at midday promising that I would be back at Catz before him, complete with tuna and all my other purchases. Instead, unable to get into his room, he rang me after four, catching me as I stood in Sainsbury’s trying to decide which packets of tuna to buy. My excuse: I’d run into a tute partner in Vaults and thus spent the afternoon chatting to him. Fortunately, like a knight in shining armour Marc came to my rescue, I chose the tuna, gave up on the cards, and had him stand over me whilst I selected an Oxford hoodie which I am now proudly wearing. Later, with the help of a very accomplished assistant (even if I do say so myself), a delicious dinner of tuna on a bed of Thai-style Jersey Royal potatoes was served to distinguished guests by the residents of Catz 12:29. I was then exposed to the intricate voting procedures that are required to select a film at St Catz. I feel I presented an almost insurmountable challenge to their version of democracy when I vetoed a favored choice. Fortunately, the ideal of a just procedure prevailed and we settled into The Butterfly Effect. Later, talking to Marc, I began thinking about relationships and trust and truth. I don’t think I believe in absolutes, there isn’t one Truth, truths are formed by experience, perspective, and not a little expedience, but once faced with Marc’s more exacting standards, I did go to sleep with several of his comments playing guiltily on my mind.

Woke up late on Tuesday (well, we didn’t get to sleep until after sunrise), and shared a breakfast of cereal, with milk, out of the bag. Classy I know. I don’t think I quite got the knack since my milk ended up dripping out of the box and all over the floor. Went to meet the first year PPEists out of their exams. Where did the three years go? I remember finishing, Pete coming with champagne and rubbing sparkles into my hair – they didn’t come out for days. After nodding at the Stanners and congratulating the MUNers I wondered around with Holger looking for boxes. As he searched for the containers into which he would pack his Oxford life it struck me that of my close friends, Holger is the one moving furthest away. So far goodbyes hadn’t really felt like goodbyes. Even though I don’t know quite when I will next see people, and even though there will be far less of the hanging out, drinking tea, watching films and midnight chats, I will be seeing people soon, or at least soonish. I’ll have my London buds, and even those who won’t be in London won’t be far away. Holger though, he’s gone. He flew back to Germany last night, next year he will be in Geneva or Bologna, the year after perhaps in the States, and then, who knows? He could be anywhere, pretty much anywhere but England. And even though the world is small, it still isn’t that small, and one of my best friends is still going to be pretty far away. But, to look on the bright side – free accommodation when I go traveling!

Tuesday evening saw one of the most beautiful evenings I have ever spent in Oxford. Beneath a stunning sunset, Anjli, Chris, Holger, Saul, Marc, Will, Matthew, Natascha, me and several others congregated on Port Meadow. Armed with disposable barbeques, marshmallows, burgers and brand new Oxford hoodies, we made fire and settled in for the evening. The sun set in a blaze of reds and oranges, while in the east a huge moon rose yellow and full, casting it’s reflection in the river beside us. We huddled around the fire, enjoying the warmth, the company, and the hot sweet taste of flamed marshmallows. As the coals died down, Holger, with his characteristic determination to see a job well done, piled logs upon the dying embers, fanning the fire in order to keep it going, but with the side-effect of submitting us all to clouds of dense smoke that burnt and stung our eyes. Eventually his efforts paid off and as the flames fanned out we toasted Oxford and friendship and times well spent with a bottle of Moet, and sat sitting around the bonfire, drinking champagne out of white plastic cups.

Wednesday (and this is for you Tom), I was taken for lunch by the most dashing young man in Oxford, dressed impeccably in a crisp white t-shirt. He picked me up in his shiny successor to the Passion Wagon, sweeping me out of Oxford to lunch in a distant country pub, charming me as ever with his stimulating conversation, unfortunately mainly too x-rated to reproduce here.

Following lunch I was escorted back to Catz where I attempted to effect a transformation into a sexy/funky Aisha ready for thrusting myself into the London scene at the launch of ‘Black Gold of the Sun’. Dressed stylishly in black and white, with my gold flipflops, jangly bracelets and big hair to add effortless glamour I power walked my way to the station, catching the 1700 with seconds to spare. Once in London I made my way to Strand, thinking as I walked that this will soon be my world. Entering Pearson’s offices, I ascended to the top floor, where, from the lavender scented balconies, one can look all across London, and as from the London Eye, appreciate it in its full beauty. The room was packed with media types, powerful looking black women, funkily dressed men, and a few small Eshun children. I think I knew about three people there, one of whom was the host, and so was forced to randomly introduce myself to strangers. At one point, I think the author’s father saw me looking a bit lost, and introduced me to half his family. Now, reading the book, I’m attempting to put half remembered faces to the names mentioned. The launch was good, and although I didn’t ‘work the room’ (my mother’s words), or take it upon myself to introduce myself to the personalities present, I felt proud that I had gone alone (I had planned to go with a friend, but newspaper deadlines meant she had to cancel) and that I was able to make conversation with unknown people and enjoy myself. It was also interesting to reflect upon the changing nature of relationships – Raph, who invited me, I first knew as someone giving a careers presentation, later he became Mango’s sponsor and then a mentor, and now, a friend?

Thursday I treated Marc to breakfast in bed, Aisha-style, i.e. not cereal eaten out of the bag, but fresh Maison Blanc pastries. It was a lazy morning, with me falling back to sleep, and then us talking, wondering whether we want kids, if life is worthwhile, and considering, again, The Truth. I remembered the passage from Corinthians “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know, even as also I am known”, I think it applied. Later, we watched Holger pack the last of his things; I returned to Marc’s room and threw the rest of my stuff into my suitcase. They rushed to the bus stop. I, with my suitcase, trailed behind, holding back tears and trying to convince myself that although things will be different, they won’t be worse, half hoping that by the time I reached the bus stop Holger would have gone and I wouldn’t need to say goodbye. He wasn’t, so we hugged and saw him off, and then with Marc I walked to Gloucester Green, ready to board my own coach home.

Traveling back, in between dozing, I tried to fix these last few memories into my mind, the last few days in Oxford, spent in a haze of dazzling sunlight, sauna-like rooms, bonfires, full moons, wine and the inevitable goodbyes that I hope were really au revoirs rather than adieus.

The end is nigh

And so, the end is nigh.

I cleared out my locker in the library today... schools dinner yesterday... All these little things that together consipire to say The End. I try to ignore the fact that we're nearly finished. That what, back in the first year, seemed an interminable length of time, has now been reduced to fewer days than I have fingers. Even if I do plan to hang around and visit next year, it won't be the same. I won't BE here anymore. I'll just be a hanger-on, a wannabe, one that has to let go.

Today was good. Waking up late, trying to ignore the finals lurgy, listening to Amy's recital - very very good, chilling with Marc in Magdalen, Catz for a BBQ, frisbee and football. Seeing my friends, being sociable, its fun, but its sad. In the back of my mind I am slowing counting down the occasions of merriment that remain - 'this is the last time I will do this' I think 'this could be the last time I will see this person. The last time I will spend time with them.' Although the rational part of me realises that the world is small, everyone will probably converge on London eventually, and even if they don't, that the above is nevertheless untrue, still, I know it won't be the same.

'I am safe; it is only change', my power thought card reads. 'The 'old' unfolds into wonderful new experiences. My life gets better all the time'. And so I am sure it does, yet the future, and the unknown, is still faced with a hint of trepidation.

To be a finished finalist - how does it feel?

Great, amazing, fantastic, and far more positive adjectives. Suddenly all the stresses and strains of the past few months are just fading away. I feel like a butterfly, emerging from the cocoon of the library, able to stretch my wings and sparkle again having been enclosed for so long. The days are now filled with punting and pimms and barbeques and lazing out on the grass... my kind of life.

There was a BBQ at my philosophy tutor's house yesterday. It was so lovely! She lives in one of the villages just outside of oxford in an old cottage with a huge, wild garden - lots of hidden paths. We wandered through and came upon a castle (well it wasn't a castle, more an abbey, but still a pretty cool thing to have at the end of the garden). Finally got to know the first year ppeists - better late than never huh. They are far cooler than my year - cool in the trendy sense, we are cool too of course, but in a different way, whilst the 2nd yrs I think are the most studious ones of the three.

I've emailed everyone for reading suggestions for my year of culture. It's fantastic, not only do I now have stacks to read - there will be no excuses for boredom next year, but the recommendations people send give me a little insight into them. What they like, their cultural reference points, what books have influenced them. It's interesting to see where my reading intersects with others and where our favourites overlap. Johann sent a five page list filled with the canons of literature and film - now I know why he is so erudite, having read all of those already. Raph a friend of mine who works at Pearson, has sent me a list of multicultural modern classics, including a few that haven't even been published yet. But whether the lists have been short or long, advance previews or tried and tested classics I am still loving receiving them. If you haven't already sent me your list please do!

I decided to take my hair out this week - figured with all this time on my hands I could cope with having it loose. It fitted in with the post-finals feeling of liberation. It's really cool. I keep finding all these hidden curls and really tight spirals and ringlets that I didn't know existed. I hear it has also become a bit of a talking point around college as well - me and my fantastic versatile hair.