It’s one of the hottest Mays in recorded history. Crews are wearing layers of factor 50, racedesk is wilting under the heat, and the greatest danger to passersby on the towpath isn’t bankriders, but dehydration: Summer Eights has begun.

Compared to the late Torpheads, the weather for this Summer Eights promises an entirely different setting. With the Isis down to steady green flag levels – where it’s safe to navigate for all crews – and with sun predicted for the entire week, rowers and viewers need not fear unexpected downpours. A drop in the heat from 29 degrees average on Thursday to 23 degrees on Friday and Saturday, students can be pleased to know that conditions will be significantly cooler, bringing an easier watching and racing experience, especially for the more popular days. 

In the men’s divisions, there were relatively few dramatic changes from the starting to the finishing order, with the vast majority of crews either rowing over or managing to bump the crew ahead/be bumped from the crew behind. However, two particularly radical results are of note: New College M3 deserves plaudits for achieving an overbump on Jesus College, knocking them down into division VI and leapfrogging St Edmund Hall M3 and Green Templeton’s M2. New M3 up three places, overbumping on Jesus College’s M2 to send them down into Div VI. Somerville M2 overbumping on Pembroke M3 to place them at the bottom of Div VI. Given this was the first day of VIII’s, we can expect many of the lower crews, particularly the Beer Boats, to improve in form over the course of the racing week.

In the women’s divisions, there were some more dramatic changes in the finishing order. With Green Templeton College W3 catching Magdalen W4, Worcester W4 overbumped on Anne’s W3 to take 82nd place from them, consigning them to the bottom of the running order. 

Two of University College women’s lower boats also had some exceptional results, with W4 achieving a handy 4 crew overbump to demote Pembroke W3 down to division VI and to sit in the same division as the college’s third crew – for the time being. Univ’s W3 managed to overbump Lady Margaret Hall, Mansfield, St Catz, Queens and Peters W2 to jump all the way to the top of division VI, becoming the sandwich boat for division V. A later bump which would have placed them into division V was reversed after it was revealed that Balliol W2’s cox had conceded unusually early out of fear of being actually bumped by St Hilda’s W2, leaving Univ to chase them down but receiving no bump. More impressively, in two of the higher divisions, division IV and III, there were overbumps and large leaps in position here, too, where the contest is likely to be more even and such dramatic results thus unlikely. Brasenose W2 overbumped Regents W1, Lincoln W2 and Worcester W2 to haul themselves towards the middle of Division IV, leaving St John’s W2 facing a lonely row to the coxing stone. Moreover, Catz’ W1 pulled off an audacious bump into division III, leapfrogging Queens and Peters W1. 

Considering the proliferation of gambling and betting apps, it’d be folly to round off today’s account without consideration of Bump’s trader, which every good Oxford rower should have. The most bought crews – i.e. those expected to advance the most over eights – on the men’s side were Hilda’s, Hertford, and Worcester M1’s, and on the women’s side St Catz and Balliol’s W1, and also Univ W3. Speaking of Univ, they have entered the most crews this year at a whopping 9 – 5 men’s boats, and 4 women’s crews – only two short of the all-time record set by Oriel in 1990, when more colleges entered, on average, far more crews.

However, today’s racing was pockmarked by tragedy, with both the first men’s and women’s divisions unable to run as eleven police cars, four fire trucks, four ambulances, and a police helicopter descended on the area around Donnington Bridge. Rowers at Longbridge’s boathouse were asked to leave, with rowers and spectators evacuated from Donnington Bridge, a popular viewing point for the racing. Many crews became trapped below the bend in the Isis, commonly known as ‘the Gut’, for a prolonged period before being able to disembark. The bridge has since reopened, and emergency vehicles have cleared the bridge, with reports of a water search. 

There are many questions you inevitably get asked when you tell someone you go to Oxford, ranging from the extent of the workload, the quality of the nightlife, and whether everyone you’ve met actually went to private school.

“Is it just like Hogwarts?” is a more outlandish query, and yet I’ve found it to be one that is just as common. On more than one occasion, I have been asked how much Oxford really resembles this fictional setting of the Harry Potter movies. Although much of the childhood nostalgia for this series has been soured by its author’s political output on social media, it remains widely popular, and many of its fans associate its magical school with the city and the University of Oxford.

The fact that parts of the Harry Potter movies were filmed in Oxford is a fun piece of trivia that has become common knowledge, and is frankly difficult to ignore when the city centre is replete with tourist shops full of merchandise – including a rather off-putting sculpture of Dobby in the window of one on Broad Street – not to mention the tourists themselves, often decked out head-to-toe in the Hogwarts uniform, sporting cloaks, ties, and wands.

Even my own college, Wadham, which makes no appearance in the Harry Potter films and sports architecture probably too Jacobean to truly embody Hogwarts’ medieval allure, is frequently bombarded with tourists in such elaborate fancy dress.

A range of locations in Oxford appear in these movies, and in slightly different ways. While the Divinity School and the Duke Humfrey’s Library provided actual filming locations for the Hogwarts Infirmary and Library, respectively, Christ Church’s Hall acted as the main inspiration for the Great Hall seen on-screen. Moreover, Christ Church was not the only college to make it into the films; a scene in the fourth instalment in the franchise was famously filmed in New College’s courtyard.

Aspects of a film, such as the script, the acting, or the music, are more conventional areas of focus for analysis than filming location, and yet the latter contributes much to a film’s atmosphere, especially when the setting is fictional. In the case of the Harry Potter series, Oxford’s medieval architecture affords the fantastical Hogwarts with a sense of mystery and romance that enhances the magical atmosphere. The authenticity of these historic buildings makes the setting more immersive; you really get the sense that this is an ancient castle with years of history and many secrets to explore.

And yet old buildings do not only evoke feelings of magic and excitement, a fact shown by another movie that makes use of Oxford as a filming location.

Another Country (1984) centres around Guy Bennett – based on Guy Burgess, a member of the Cambridge Five – a Soviet double agent whose experience at a British public school in the 1930s, as a young gay man dealing with romance, conflict, and persecution, lays the groundwork for his eventual defection.

Here, the filming location does something slightly different. The medieval architecture confers a sense of prestige associated with a long history, imbuing the public-school setting with institutional power and reinforcing Bennett’s lack of belonging. Confronted with a set that harks back to medieval days, the audience is reminded of the historic and traditional nature of the world Bennett inhabits, highlighting even more how he does not fit into it.

One of the film’s opening scenes perfectly captures the importance of the filming location; at a Remembrance Day service, the schoolboys stand in orderly formation, chorusing out a hymn with expressionless faces. While Bennett sings along, he stares longingly at another student, eventually stopping singing completely as they engage in prolonged eye contact. The romantic undertones of such an interaction hint at same-sex affection; that it is romantic is seemingly confirmed by the frequent cuts to another scene, in which a teacher discovers two other students engaged in clandestine same-sex relations.

The quadrangle in front of the Bodleian Library acts as a backdrop to all of this, only amplifying the sense of transgression in the face of custom and convention. An expression of same-sex attraction, already subversive, becomes even more significant when juxtaposed with a background that carries with it all these implications of history and tradition and conservatism.

The prestige of Oxford as a backdrop also emphasises the power of the public-school institution, adding to the picture of an illustrious educational establishment possessing significant authority. As the narrative unfolds, it becomes clear that Bennett’s sexuality cannot be reconciled with the world he lives in unless it is concealed or repressed. The powerful institution suppresses his attempts to carve out a space for himself as a gay man, and he is left with no choice but to look for belonging elsewhere, which he does by defecting to the Soviet Union.

The relationship between film and filming location does not only work one way. If the prevalence of Hogwarts comparisons and wand-brandishing tourists tells us anything, it is that popular perceptions of both the city and the university have been powerfully influenced by the Harry Potter franchise.

While Oxford as a filming location generally improves a movie – it helps to build atmosphere, establish an immersive setting, and enrich the narrative – the impact that movies have on attitudes towards Oxford can be less positive. In one sense, the association with a fantasy setting evokes a sense of magic, which makes Oxford feel even more charming. Nonetheless, constant references to a children’s franchise can feel a little juvenile and out of touch.

After all, these associations contribute to a view of Oxford that is more fantasy than reality, and it is important not to put Oxford on a pedestal, and lose sight of the fact that it is a university like any other. Ideally, we should strike a balance; an awareness of the reality of life at Oxford can co-exist with an appreciation of its grand architecture and historical atmosphere.

Still, in spite of my reservations about grown adults’ fanaticism for a story meant for children, I’m inclined to think that these associations are largely harmless. If students choose to apply to a university because it reminds them of a nostalgic film favourite, or if tourists want to pose in front of the Radcliffe Camera dressed in full wizarding gear, it simply reflects how the influence of film means Oxford has become something different for some.

It used to be hard to tell what music someone listened to. There were no public Spotify playlists, no Stats.fm top tracks to brag about, and no songs attached to your termly Instagram dump. Today, however, music taste can become an inextricable part of how your identity is perceived. With unprecedented access to data on our own habits, and those of others, we can tie our music consumption ever more tightly to our own personal brand. This has led to an experience of music-listening which is mediated by the public perception of precisely what music one listens to and what it says about them, in ways which have arisen alongside an individualistic shift in the personal branding zeitgeist.  

It is easier than ever to track your listening. With the advent of automatic tracking software such as Stats.fm and its more manual predecessor Last.fm, we no longer have to painstakingly keep a spreadsheet to know exactly what we listen to at every hour of the day. In fact, streaming platforms such as Spotify have even started handing us generalisations of what we listen to per hour, with ‘Daylists’. These consist of the music you most frequently turn to at that specific time each week, updated every few hours and accompanied by a few handy adjectives. My personal favourite title has been ‘Instrumental ballroom dancing this Thursday afternoon’, but, crucially, in Spanish. Daylists, notably, are made using AI to gauge these preferences, perhaps making them the epitome of this algorithm-led listening, creating pseudo-echo chambers of taste.   

This monitoring ability also comes hand in hand with an ease of discovery which would have previously been unthinkable. Rather than reliance on local record/CD shops – which would stock new releases, the well-known classics, and some local talent – or even the radio, offering similar coverage, with streaming, algorithmic listening is now in full swing. This means that consuming an artist’s entire discography is no longer something which requires effort, simply hit play on their artist page on the streaming platform of your choice. Additionally, once an algorithm works out that you’re enjoying a certain song, it can feed you more just like it with precisely zero labour on your part. The time between encountering a genre for the very first time and being a relative expert on it can now be cut down to a matter of hours, and you can now have statistical proof of your endeavours, too. 

Simultaneously, sharing your listening habits is now a very commonplace activity, largely through social media. Without even touching on the recent controversy over artists hiring marketing agencies to – allegedly – fabricate online fandoms for themselves, music is a core part of most social platforms today. Scrolling through somebody’s Instagram page, or their story highlights, now serves as a run-down of what they want you to know about their music taste (as well as obviously what they want you to know about their life). A real on-the-nose example is the annual swathes of Spotify Wrapped graphics – a full year of your listening neatly packaged for exhibition. Personal consumption has never been so public. This is in stark contrast to a time when one had to go out of their way to share these things: band merch, badges, physical copies of music all required active effort to acquire and show off. Today, the equivalent is three taps on a screen and a 30-second listen-through of the clip to make sure it’s communicating the right vibe. 

This has all come together to produce a world in which your music consumption is a core part of your personal branding, your aesthetic, what would be on a Pinterest mood-board titled [your name]-core. In other words, music has become another consumable good mediating your personal identity. It’s another element used to express Who You Are™, insofar as this is your publicly available self, visible by others. There is now a break between authentic self-expression and one’s ‘music taste’: we are all pretending to not know that when we’re listening there’s a non-zero chance that this particular song-rotation will be made public in some form or another. While I’m sure some people do manage to marry the two, and are wholly unashamed of every song they’ve ever streamed, or who simply do not partake in the stat-posting and musical accompaniment to photo dumps, I think it is worth acknowledging that our relationship with music is changing. It is far harder to maintain a separation between your taste, your identity, and how you are thought of by others.  

Never before has it been this easy, or quick, to completely change your go-to music selection with the help of streaming platform discovery functions, nor have we ever had the tools to see and share our habits at the level of detail we do now. This has contributed to everyone knowing far more about each other’s tastes than they used to, and the culture of sharing your interests to be cool online has reinforced this. In essence, choosing what to listen to at any given time is, for many, no longer a decision based purely on the feelings of the moment, but is instead mediated by the knowledge that they are not alone in witnessing this choice.