Overseas Briefing

Author: Julia Whelan

OXFORD - Here at Lincoln College, Oxford, we take our meals "in hall." The space itself looks like the dining room in the Harry Potter series, complete with long community tables and soaring ceiling. We had our first dinner on Monday evening, commencing "Fresher's Week," or what is in essence the British version of our orientation.

There was a seating chart. There were candles and wine. We were served, literally. Someone appeared at my right and gently placed a soup bowl in front of me. This same person eventually followed with salmon and a tarte. More than slightly discomforted, I compulsively thanked the individual and they poured me more wine. Near the end, the Rector stood from his place at the center of the high table and addressed us.

He said, and I summarize, "The hall you are seated in was built in 1435. I beg you to look at the fireplace over on the left. That was not there when this hall was erected. The fire was located where those two young ladies sit before me" - he gestured - "and if you will direct your gazes upward, you will see the hole in the roof through which the smoke escaped." He then paused, I think, for dramatic effect.

Soberly, he continued, "I do not mention this to intimidate you." Oh, really? "Quite the opposite." Pray, go on. "This is a place of history. It is also a place dedicated to advancement. Let it not shy you, let it not convince you you're unequal to the others who have been before. For approaching six hundred years, students have felt wanting in the shadow of this hall and what it represents. But … they got over it. And they did things." With a final, comforting nod, he took his seat. We looked at the ceiling, then glanced at each other. And we had more wine.

The next morning I went for tea with the boy assigned to be my "college dad," or general protector and provider of libation. He is two years younger than I. Nevertheless, he nodded sagely during my glowing, and overly exuberant, recap of the Rector's speech.

"Well, you know," he began, "after that dinner last year, we had some … difficulties." I asked what he meant, still too inspired from the night before to believe that anything untoward could happen here.

Apparently, there had been a number of incidents recently. Namely, a few Lincoln students staggered over to another college, lugged a bench up to the roof, and threw it over the side onto a quad. It needs mentioning that these people love their quad lawns - so much so that the penalty for trespassing is a whopping £50 per footprint. "And there was something else, too," he continued. "Someone defecated on the squash court."

You know that technique in films, where the camera crash zooms in on the actor, and the background shortens and condenses, implying great shock and bewilderment?

"Yeah," he nodded, taking a sip of tea, "you want to get on here, don't do that."

College students are college students are idiots. And probably have been for longer than 600 years.