Oxford-the start of a journey

This past week has been a whirlwind. On Saturday I moved up to my student digs in Oxford - and yes, the words 'student' and 'Oxford' still seem wholly oxymoronic in a sentence involving me. I'm lodging in the arse end of the city, far far away from Harry Potter land, which means I still get to keep a foot in the real world while I'm up there. It also means I'm not entirely overwhelmed constantly by the insanity that is the University of Oxford. Don't get me wrong, I feel as though all my Christmases have come at once with getting the incredible opportunity to study there. As an academic institution it really is the dogs bollocks, and if nerdy academics were kids in sweet shops, Oxford would be none other than the chocolate factory of Mr Willy Wonka himself. But it's an odd place with a fantasy feel-a Disneyland for geeks, if you will. And then there's me. Charlie. Under-cultured, under-global and feeling like the luckiest kid in the world.

Some thoughts so far:

Everyone is photoshoot-ready
At home the population consists of students, stay at home mums, typical 9-5 types and people concerned with all things coastal (crossover between categories may occur). There are charity shops everywhere, mostly full of shitty bobbled jumpers and worn out wetsuits; dressing well is generally not high up the priority list in Poole. Comparatively, Oxford people consistently look as though they've stepped off the pages of a Joules magazine, or are ready for a film crew to come shoot them hanging out in the historical heartland of England at any given second.

Harry Potter
I'll admit to channelling my inner McGonagall on more than one occasion thus far. Directions are not my strong suit, and I regularly find myself wandering down real life Diagon-Alleys, complete with huge oak doors that beg to be peeked behind. I haven't actually ever looked-I'm pretty sure it would be a boring office or something and rain all over my fairytale parade. But waving a foraged stick and muttering expelliarmus while pretending to be in the Chamber of Secrets will literally never get old.

Confusing colloquialisms
Call me simple, but where I come from we refer to road names by just that -their name. Example: Smith Road. If I lived on Smith Road I would tell you I lived on Smith Road. In Oxford, people add a bizarre and unnecessary 'the'. Example: Iffley Road. An Oxonian lives on THE Iffley Road. I have no idea whether this is a thing elsewhere, but it's an ongoing source of amusement to this modest Dorset girl.

People are awesome, and diversity is wonderful
So far in my time at Kellogg College (yes, yes, I know-cornflakes) I've met more international people than in the entirety of my life up to this point. It's incredible. I now know people from Poland, Germany, Australia, Mexico, Italy, America, Canada, Singapore, China, New Zealand, the Philippines, Malaysia, Holland, Spain, India and Greece who I'm privileged to call friends. Hailing from two hours down the road feels decidedly under-global. I'm also on first-name terms with the kebab van man from Turkey (natch), and have decided to take the cleaning lady up on her offer of showing me gardening skills and teaching me how to iron a shirt. Everyone has a story to tell, and I love discovering the beautiful tangle of stories that makes us part of something so much bigger.

People are everywhere, mostly on bikes
Oxford is crazy busy, and the most likely cause of serious injury to an unsuspecting wanderer is being mown down by a pack of tourists, or run over by a vintage bike. Or maybe a combination of the two. If someone isn't already doing tourist tours by bike, I claim originality rights. You'll see me on the cover of Joules when I've made my first million.

All that aside, everyone survived at home. No mean feat, with everything hanging in a precarious Jenga-like balance. I am incredibly proud of the independent, resilient kids I've had a hand in raising so far, and simultaneously a little sad that no one really needs me anymore. At least not in the way they did for the decade I was at home wiping noses and changing nappies. I'm also hugely grateful to their Dad, who has significantly stepped up to support me in this venture. Being away has resulted in some lovely phone conversations and so far, it's working. I realise we're only one week in and it could all go tits up at any moment. But I'm finally allowing myself to believe, at least just a little bit, that the wonderful world of Willie Wonka might realistically be within reach.