I love Oxford. I was born there; I grew up living either in the city or a few miles outside. I went to school there until I was 13, then returned to go to university. So if I’m ever lucky enough to be asked to do a book event in Oxford, I rush in like a shot. It was with unalloyed glee, therefore, that I headed to the city of spires last week to take part in the Ex Libris panel show at Blackwell’s – http://oxfordgames.co.uk/ex-libris-live/up-coming-shows. I arrived preposterously early, having been caught out on the M40 many times before, which gave me a few hours to wander around. I realised then that I’d not been alone in Oxford for ages – I’d either been meeting friends, or my wife and I had been showing the children the delights of the parks/Botanic Gardens/shrunken heads in the Pitt Rivers. And it was fun to stroll aimlessly, frequenting some old pubs (for non-alcoholic beverages: wits were required for that show), and places full of memories. Naturally, things are going to change. It’s nearly sixteen years since I graduated (ye gods). The entrance to the Taylorian Institute (modern languages HQ; my old course), for example, had switched location, and the mighty St Giles Cafe had closed down. But a more surprising change was the attitude of the students. In my day, it was definitely not cool to be posh. Accents were levelled off, grungy clothes embraced. But eavesdropping on groups of students last week, I got the sense that poshness was being celebrated. A cultivation of the disparaging aristocrat seemed almost de rigueur. At times, I felt like I was on the set of Made in Chelsea, witnessing a competition to bray the loudest or give the haughtiest putdown . When did this shift happen, I wonder? And is it only in Oxford? Surely it makes the city a more intimidating and less appealing place for anyone arriving for the first time. But perhaps I’m just getting old…
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