Scholars, Exhibitioners, Commoners and Fellows

I'm mighty tired, and a feeling the mild wooziness. Like many people, I don't regard wine with meals as alcahol as such, but unfortunately this sensation is evidence that my pancreas does.

So I've just been to the Mansfield Scholars and Exhibitors dinner, which is why I'm sitting in the computer room in a suit, feeling a bit silly and rather hot. You get to be a Scholar if you're in the top 40 for exam performance in your year. In practical terms, it means the college knocks £200 off your food bills and you have to buy a kind of dracula-style cape for £50. I think the most defensible way to think of academic dress is to regard it as the ethnic garb of Oxford Academics. If I knew more about anthropology I'd make some cutting comparison with some little-known tribe. Since I haven't got around to that stage of my education, you'll have to fill one in yourself.

I once saw a picture of some Oxfordians (Oxforders? Ononians?) being presented to Henry the Eighth- while the 'civilians' were all in doublet and hose, etc, the academics were wearing clothes that wouldn't look out of place in a Formal hall today. I sometimes think that some Oxfordians political and social outlook comes straight out of the pre-industrial age, too. And not the good part.

(The word "eighth" disturbes me. It has no right to that 'g', or that many 'h's. "Ayeth", maybe...)

I think it's time for me to go home, put my feet up, hope someone recorded Father Ted, and have a coffee. See y'all later.

Song in my head: "Oh Yeah Yeah" by Marzipan (flash)