Thomas Critchley

Thomas Critchley, Second Year at New College reading Mathematics. 

Having snoozed my alarm twice, I roll out of bed and grab whatever looks most breakfast-like from my fridge (today a rice pudding), shower, and walk over to the Maths Institute. I get a berry yoghurt from Café π as second breakfast and settle down for a couple of hours work on my differential equations sheet. At 11, I head to my only lecture of the day. I've arranged to meet my friend for lunch at Gloucester Green market, where the stalls serve everything from churros to dhal, and I'm ashamed to say that during the last ten minutes pleasant thoughts of food figure in my mind rather more than rings and modules do. In the end I plump for a Lángos, a giant, savoury Hungarian doughnut. It comes with cheese and soured cream. It is delicious. I wash it down with a cup of tea back in my room, hoping against hope that the caffeine will stave off the doughnut-induced mid-afternoon crash...

Luckily, the plan succeeds, and I manage to do the homework for my French class AND stay conscious throughout my fluid mechanics tutorial. After the tute, I head back to college in twilight. Oxford's especially beautiful at this time of day, full of twinkling lights behind college windows and black-robed academics whizzing past on bicycles. Ordinarily I'd head to dinner in hall, and afterwards knuckle down for a couple more hours of problem sheets in the library. It's Wednesday today though, so I head to my weekly French class instead, and soak my mind in a metaphorical bath of conjugaison and passé composé. After that it's time for the highlight of the New College mathematician's social calendar, the bi-termly maths meal! French class meant I missed pre-drinks, so I'm not sufficiently inebriated to enjoy the (at best) dubious fare at our chosen venue. But good company more than makes up for questionable sausage, and the alcohol issue is soon resolved. I'm glad that my first lecture the next day is once again at the civilised hour of 11am.