Oxford Interviews Part 2 - 10:34 pm - 04-12-2007

Here is Part 1.
After dinner we all headed down to the bar for a pub quiz. I made myself seem like quite the loser by having such an extensive knowledge of Oxford colleges. Oh well. In the rankings our team name wasn’t read out. We must have come last. I went to bed at 10, to be up at 730 for my interview at 9. I was asleep by about 12.

730.
Snooze.
735.
Snooze.
740.
Snooze.
745.
Wake.
I wander to the shower and wash my hair. It’s nicer than I expected. Good stuff.
I go to breakfast and eat a danish. I’m quite nervous.
I go to my interview.
The door’s locked.
I head to the JCR to see if the code’s written down anywhere.
I walk past my interviewer.
I realise who it is and try to catch him up.
Door slams behind him.
I knock.
Nothing.
Back to JCR.
Interview postponed until 1130.
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1120: go back to interview room.
Interviewers are leaving for a fag.
They tell me the code.
It’s the same as for my room.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Interview time! 45 hours after I arrived.
I was surprised at how unintimidating the interview was. I was asked to talk about something that interests me relating to PPE, and then I my view was attacked and I had to defend it. We then moved onto more subjects and repeated the same thing.
At the end I was asked if I had any questions. I asked how confident they were in the application process: how sure are they that they’re choosing the best candidates.
The answer is ‘not very’.
Hmm. Interesting.

I texted my mum and dad to say I’ve done it and they can ring me. I was feeling a bit tense so I decided to listen to Abbey Road. ‘Here Comes the Sun’ was nice but it didn’t quite cut it. My mum rang up and I told her all about the interview. After this I texted Suzi to ask if she was free. She was, so we agreed to meet up after dinner. We head straight to the pub we went to on Sunday. She had an interview quite soon so decided not to drink any alcohol. My glass of mulled wine relaxed me somewhat. I wish her good luck and we part our separate ways.

I then headed back to the JCR to play giant Connect 4. During this my dad rang and I told him about my interview. After this, and regardless of the wine and Abbey Road, I was still feeling tense, so I texted Tabs to see if she fancied a walk. She did, and so did the people she’d met at St John’s. So that was that. We went to Boots and then met up with another girl, Zoe, who Tabs knew from Warwick (NAGTY) and then we headed to G+B (ice cream). We were intending on going in but there were steps which Zoe couldn’t get up in her wheelchair. I thought it was silly that there was no ramp, it’d have been so simple to install. I will look at for stairs more often I think.

After a long wander, it was back to Balliol for dinner. One of the prospective PPEists (an Eton boy) was on the phone and speaking loudly, and rudely, about various people. He was quite funny with it, but the fact that he was trying to be amusingly arrogant made it less effective. Strange how motivation destroys effect. I ate up and then headed to the JCR for Facebook fun.

A girl sat down next to me and made a joke about how everyone just uses the computers for Facebook. She then typed her name into my search box and told me to add her. “So I can stalk you.”

An hour later we were drinking wine together at one of the local pubs. She was a very interesting girl, who’d been on a TV show called “Fuck off! I’m a hairy woman” or something like that. Not that she’s hairy or anything. She was just told to model underwear woven from celebrity’s pubic hair. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her, she told me all about her drug addict father, and asked me how big my penis was, without a single moment of hesitation, so I answered in the same manner. It’s strange how these things pan out isn’t it?

When we separated ways she told me that “I actually do hope you get in now,”. For the first time since I got here, I truly felt the same way about her. Lots of people here have been really nice - but no one has been anywhere near as enjoyable to spend time with.

Then it was this blog.
G’night.

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