Student Life
Why you should spring clean your bookshelf this Trinity
In the Northern Hemisphere, astronomers mark the beginning of spring on the date of the spring equinox. This year, it falls on the 20th of March. For Oxonians, spring begins in our liminal space, the strange weeks that fill our time between the end of Hilary term and the start of Trinity term. Despite leaving Oxford, some of us remain busy bees, revising away for collections or finishing dissertations. Others among us, despite having reading lists that are long enough to resemble shopping lists, are horrifically bored, burnt-out, and unable to look at anything resembling term-time work without feeling a little bit queasy. Although it is marketed to us as the time for new beginnings, spring can easily pass us by, all of us so desperate for summer that we charge through March and April without a second glance.
While I, too, long for the warm weather that summer (sometimes) provides, spring is my favourite season and is severely underrated. I love it, not solely for its pink and yellow petals that fill my camera roll or the excuse it grants me to unfold my summer dresses and dungarees, but for its sheer reading potential. Summer is for lucrative lick-your-fingers romances, and winter all but possesses the fireplace mystery market. Spring and autumn are just too fleeting to wholly claim certain genres, and therefore every year holds the possibility of something new. Spring is especially unique as, in autumn, readers may find themselves returning to the nostalgic tenderness of the back-to-school narrative, squeezing in a read or two before winter takes hold. Spring lacks this definition, its potential, therefore, joyfully untapped and free for individual interpretation.
Upon coming home for the Hilary vacation, I returned to my childhood bedroom. It was in what can only be described as a state of chaos. I am an English student and have been collecting books since I was 13. It shows. Almost every inch of my room is covered in a paperback, a hardback, or the DVD of the film adaptation of my favourite book. Bookmarks are everywhere, reading journals sit precariously balanced on every edge, and, as I stood in the doorway, I silently cursed my January self for leaving my room like this.
In the name of spring cleaning, I sat down and decided to dedicate the following minutes, hours, and days to sorting my books, promising to keep only those that brought memories of a happy reading experience to mind. Despite being a self-proclaimed bookworm, I found that I hadn’t actually read many of them. Some were sequels I’d spent weeks waiting for, only for the special-edition hardbacks to accumulate dust behind books I had ordered for university classes. Some were classics I had loved the idea of reading, but their spines were ultimately left unbroken when I struggled with the language, the words left unannotated, unfelt. I found books that family members had recommended, had excitedly shared with the intention of communal discussion, simply waiting – the clearest signifier that the previous delight I took from reading had crumbled. Enough was enough. If spring was the time for new beginnings, I would begin again, too. Starting with my bookshelf.
Choosing to do an English degree as an avid reader can lead your love of reading to become irrevocably intertwined with stressful deadlines and job applications. It is easy to become distanced from the hobby, rejecting it over breaks in favour of anything else. My goal every new year is to fall back in love with reading. While January me certainly tried her best, it was this spring that I saw my resolution begin to take effect. I listened – because, yes, audiobooks do count! – to Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey as I browsed bookshops, pausing to take pictures of the poetry anthology I thought my best friend would enjoy. I missed my stop on the sun-drenched bus because I was so engrossed in the final pages of a play I was reading for pleasure. I finished the final chapter of my favourite comic – the one I had been reading since I was fourteen – tucked up in bed, birdsong quiet outside my bedroom window.
Yet in this process, I often overlook the value of returning to how I first practised the art. With friends and family, squeezed between commuters on the bus, under the covers with a flashlight, stealing moments everywhere. When I was younger, I would carry my favourite books with me to school, not to read but to hold, a weight that kept me grounded as I navigated life as a 15-year-old girl. Before reading was productive or competitive, it was a haven, a comfort I yearn for now more than ever as I enter my twenties. Spring lacks a to-do list, lacks a checkbox of books to read before you miss their seasonal window, and it is kinder that way, more welcoming.
Spring is often swallowed in one quick gulp, dainty blossoms on trees appearing for what seems like milliseconds before waxy leaves take their place. For many of us, spring is small. It is a soft yawn, the world waking up and displaying a swift snippet of what’s to come in summer. Before spring leaves us behind for another year, I implore you to make reading a part of this transitional jubilation, a part of the first hike or the first ice cream. The assigned genre is anything that has gathered dust on your bookshelf or TBR, because reading is more joyful when the rules are bent, and you follow your own enjoyment.
Or, as Jane Austen’s bookish heroine Catherine Moreland would say: “Oh! I am delighted with the book! I should like to spend my whole life in reading it.”
Student Life
When I met Peter Mandelson
In October 2024, during the Oxford Chancellor election, one of my responsibilities as Deputy Editor of Profiles at Cherwell was to interview Peter (then Lord) Mandelson, who was among the five frontrunners contesting the election. I was due to meet him at St Catherine’s College at 2.30pm. While I was on the coach from London to Oxford, my phone rang – an unknown number – and on the other end was Mandelson. “I’m at St Catz”, he said, audibly annoyed: “Where are you?” I pointed out that he was an hour early. “No, I’m not. 1.30pm was the time I was given.” I explained that the Cherwell editors must have given me the wrong time, that I was very sorry, that it wouldn’t happen again, etc. He replied that he would try to fit in the interview at a later time.
When, eventually, I arrived at St Catherine’s College, it was an hour’s wait in the Porters’ Lodge before the great man presented himself. Even the manner of his entry was worthy of the Mandelson lore. A slick black car pulled up outside the college. It took me a moment to notice – though it might have been a trick of the light – that the peer was making the end of his nose very blunt against the car window, in an angular attempt to discover whether or not that journo from Cherwell had arrived on time. Seeing that I had, he sprang out, and we shook hands. I spent the next two hours intermittently interviewing him as he hopped between the several ceremonies and meetings which his position as an honourary fellow demanded of him. He seemed already to know what he wanted to say, which is fair enough for a politician. One tic stands out in my mind. Every time he mentioned some praiseworthy feature of his record in office, I, out of polite interest, said, “Really?”, and his tetchy response each time was to exclaim, “Yes!”, as if scandalised that anyone might be unaware of his achievements. By the end of the interview, his irritation had subsided, giving way to the famous “prince of darkness” charm which for years had sent him ricocheting back and forth between Cabinet and disgrace. He enquired whether I wanted a drink or snack. I politely refused. Then, with a suggestion that if I had any further questions, I could put them to him by phone, I left.
A week later, when the interview was published, I and the other Cherwell editors realised that it contained a serious omission. I hadn’t asked Mandelson about his connection to Jeffrey Epstein, of which I had not been aware, but which turned out, on investigation, to be well-documented. We did some research, scanned whatever was publicly available, and wrote an article on it. If the Prime Minister had read it before deciding on a new Ambassador to Washington, he would have found ample evidence on which to block Mandelson’s appointment. Among other things, it contains the smoking gun that in June 2009 Mandelson stayed at Epstein’s Manhattan townhouse, while Epstein was in prison for soliciting prostitution from a minor. That alone should have disqualified him from the Ambassadorship, from the Chancellorship, and from public life.
Given the anti-Mandelson frenzies which have erupted since the Epstein Files releases of September 2025 and February 2026, it is worth pointing out that these concerns about him went largely unraised when he was first appointed Ambassador, even though enough was already publicly known for a group of 19-year-olds to be able to compile a dossier on him. Keir Starmer and his government, like anybody else with access to Google, must have known that Mandelson had been an associate of Epstein. It did not trouble them. They celebrated the appointment of a great statesman, the genius behind New Labour and the grandson of Herbert Morrison. The apologies which have since been made are probably the result of the public outcry, not of any real remorse at having appointed him.
Very likely, members of the government or commentators in the media saw nothing wrong with making an Ambassador of the close friend of a disgusting paedophile. The President of the United States, after all, had been an even closer friend of the same man. It was taken for granted that friends of paedophiles, like war criminals, must be accepted as legitimate political players. Indeed, if the Mandelson principle were expanded, and friendship with war criminals became punishable by exclusion from public life, there would be hardly any Cabinet left. “No one can rule guiltlessly.” That must have been the rationale which led the government and the media to disregard Mandelson’s past; it must have been the rationale which led Mandelson himself to disregard his friend’s crimes while Epstein was still at large.
Mandelson, whose disgrace is now so complete that he has nothing more to do than to urinate publicly in Notting Hill, deserved shunning from public life and grilling in every interview long before the release of the latest files. The stink was already there, but not enough people noticed it.
Student Life
Oxford outperforms UK tourism as university attractions hit record highs
Visitor numbers to Oxford’s major attractions have risen sharply, outpacing national trends and reinforcing the city’s position as one of the UK’s most resilient tourism hubs.
New figures from the Association of Leading Visitor Attractions (ALVA) show that visits to UK attractions rose by just 2% last year, reflecting a slow post-pandemic recovery across the sector. In contrast, Oxford University’s Gardens, Libraries and Museums (GLAM) recorded 3,816,898 visitors in 2025, up from 3,559,109 in 2024: a 7% increase year-on-year.
The figures place Oxford well above the national average and mark a continued divergence between the city and wider UK trends. GLAM sites are now operating above pre-pandemic levels, while the sector nationally has yet to fully recover.
Oxford’s performance is closely tied to the University itself. Many of the city’s most visited attractions – including the Ashmolean Museum, the Bodleian Libraries, and the Museum of Natural History – are embedded within the University and form part of its academic infrastructure as well as its public-facing identity. Several of these sites rank among the most visited attractions in the UK, with the Ashmolean alone drawing over one million visitors in 2025.
Richard Ovenden, Head of Gardens, Libraries and Museums told Cherwell the figures reflected the University’s cultural offer, pointing to free and low-cost entry as a key driver of footfall alongside “a lively and eclectic programme of events” designed to engage diverse audiences.
Recent exhibitions have also contributed to rising visitor numbers. The Ashmolean Museum’s ‘This Is What You Get’ exhibition explored the visual art behind Radiohead through the three-decade collaboration between Thom Yorke and artist Stanley Donwood. Featuring more than 180 works, including album cover art, sketchbooks, and previously unseen material, the exhibition drew on the band’s Oxfordshire roots and offered visitors a rare insight into the creative processes behind one of the UK’s most influential bands.
This overlap between academic and public space is central to Oxford’s appeal, but it also shapes student experience, and students themselves also play a role in sustaining this ecosystem. The University’s global reputation draws prospective applicants, visiting families, and international tourists, many of whom engage directly with college and museum spaces. As visitor numbers grow, students increasingly occupy a dual position as both users of and contributors to Oxford’s tourism economy.
The rise in attraction visits reflects a broader increase in tourism across Oxfordshire, which continues to generate significant revenue for the local economy. At a national level, ALVA attributes continued growth to the enduring appeal of cultural experiences, even during the cost-of-living crisis, with visitors prioritising heritage and leisure spending.
The figures underline Oxford’s distinctive character as a university city where academic and public life intersect. Spaces such as the Bodleian Libraries and central college sites continue to serve both students and visitors, contributing to the city’s reputation as a globally significant cultural and intellectual hub.
Student Life
Council rejects Regent Park’s plan to convert Oxfam into MCR
Oxford City Council has rejected an application by Regent’s Park College to convert the Oxfam Bookshop on St Giles’ Street into its Middle Common Room (MCR), citing local regulations limiting city centre ground-floor units to specific uses such as retail, culture, tourism, and entertainment.
Regent’s Park told Cherwell that the College is “reviewing our options in light of the council’s decision”, and that the proposed change of use of the building was intended “to provide a larger, fit-for-purpose MCR and dedicated postgraduate study space to meet the needs of its expanded postgraduate body”.
The College told Cherwell that the site currently occupied by the Oxfam Bookshop “represents the best opportunity to provide an accessible, above-ground MCR within our existing on-site buildings”. The site at 56 St Giles is part of the College’s estate and is currently divided between the bookshop, which has been running since 1987, and student accommodation.
The change-of-use proposal claimed that the building was not in the city centre as officially defined and that college activities on the site would not “lead to detrimental effects” such as artificial lighting, construction, or “impact upon the significance of the heritage asset”. In their rejection of the application, the City Council did not dispute that it was unlikely that “any harm would arise from the change of use itself”, but noted that the site was, in fact, part of the city centre area by the standards of the Oxford Local Plan 2036.
Local regulations set out acceptable uses of buildings in central Oxford, particularly in reference to sustainable development, designated heritage assets, and “ensuring the vitality of centres”. The Council documents also summarised objections to the proposal from members of the public, who noted an “effect on character of area” and “loss of community asset”, alongside fears of “noise and disturbance” and difficulties with accessible access.
The current Regent’s Park College MCR was established in 2005, when the College had a graduate community of only 30 members, and is located underground in a former storage basement with no windows, as noted in their planning application. The College cited the fivefold expansion of the graduate student body over the past two decades and the inaccessibility of the site as reasons why the current MCR was “wholly unsuitable”. Regent’s Park’s planning application also referenced how “the University has drawn attention to the importance of suitable, inclusive facilities for postgraduate students, and the College must respond”.
The rejection of planning permission comes after Jesus College successfully converted the former Burger King on Cornmarket Street into student accommodation in 2025. Other colleges also have plans for new developments in the near future, including Magdalen College, which will be demolishing a 1960s building to construct more student housing.
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