In Oxford you may have heard, people dress a bit formally. Well that's exactly right. After having used my suit, three times in three years (maybe more in DC), I am putting it on once a week, it seems. Last week, we had the Master's dinner, given to Balliol grads so we could meet the master, drink with the fellows, and of course, dress ridiculously.
Now, an even more outlandish event is Burns night, in memory of an eighteenth century Scottish poet, we took out our dinner jackets and bow ties, looked slick, and mingled, slick people with slick people, for a whole evening. Did I mention the piper? Coming into hall, we were greeted by bagpipes. Leaving hall back to the MCR, we were led by the same piper, through the streets, a hundred or so of us in our dinner jackets and black tie dresses, while people stared.
Here is Will and Patrick. Will is my neighbour, and although Patrick lives out, I see him often.
With Phil and Will.
Now, an even more outlandish event is Burns night, in memory of an eighteenth century Scottish poet, we took out our dinner jackets and bow ties, looked slick, and mingled, slick people with slick people, for a whole evening. Did I mention the piper? Coming into hall, we were greeted by bagpipes. Leaving hall back to the MCR, we were led by the same piper, through the streets, a hundred or so of us in our dinner jackets and black tie dresses, while people stared.
Here is Will and Patrick. Will is my neighbour, and although Patrick lives out, I see him often.
With Phil and Will.
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