Nothing is quite like an Oxford ball, except maybe another Oxford ball. The first one you go to is definitely an experience, however, particularly when it involves other firsts…
Navigating Radcliffe Square in heels and a dress with a thigh split is not a good idea, flashing is inevitable and falling is likely. The queue was surprisingly short and the use of the annoying wristbands meaning that it was actually really quick to get in and get to the alcohol and canapés. Pulled pork and coleslaw buns were delicious, but for once I regret not having had more to drink!
I somehow managed to avoid all the hired photographers apart from one who took a photo of my leg from a very flattering perspective, naturally. That temporary tattoo has still not come off, and no, it’s not because I haven’t washed.
The Donut Kings and OUJO provided a more civilised musical background and some brave dancers did emerge, the training for Dancesport Cuppers only sometimes in evidence. Silent discos are fast becoming one of my favourite parts of Oxford entertainment and it’s not just because I enjoy ‘singing’ when no one can hear me, apart from those weird bystanders.
The hay bales provided a good spot to rest one’s feet, desperately needed for those who were wearing the torture devices known as high heels. I don’t think they’ll be getting the hay out of Radcliffe Square any time soon. Who knows what the tourists thought when they saw the imitation Greek statues, probably thought it was nothing out of the ordinary. One unfortunate statue was just too attractive for a certain invitee who smuggled their lover out in a double bass case, only to be caught by CCTV.
The 5.30am survivors’ breakfast was surprisingly populated. I took a few photos then got a bit of ‘well-earned’ sleep before making my way to OxStu towers to edit and lay this fabulous section, that’s Oxford for you.
PHOTO/ Brasenose Ball