Oxford - heaven or hell?

I've been asked by a fellow, suffering Oxfordonian to express a few views on those negative aspects of Oxford that nobody really gets to know about until a few months too late (i.e. you're installed on course, signed away even your distant relation's bank accounts, and have finally worked out after many traumatic trying-on sessions how the damn gown is meant to be worn). If, dear reader, you do not frequent Oxford University then banish whatever myths you have heard about the place...

Everyone knows that Oxford represents academic excellence - which simultaneously means, academic hell. You may be the bright spark in your school, but the first conversation you have here is guaranteed to be with someone streets ahead of you intelligence wise, and you'll spend the subsequent few years battling to break into the middle of the pack. At the end of the year, you'll be shuffled into an exam hall with the other poor sods on your course and given three hour tests. Just to make the experience unique, Oxford requires that you wear full sub fusc - guys, yes, you will be sitting exams in a bow tie. In addition to trying to learn a few thousand (useless) facts, you'll be forced to devote a good portion of your precious time to learning how to tie the damn thing correctly to avoid additional exam-morning-stress.

If you do really well in the exams, perhaps you'll think of studying for a Phd. Correction: at Oxford, you will work towards a DPhil. There is no logic behind this slight tweaking of the issue other than Oxford likes to be Different For No Good Reason. Considering the laboratory facilities are archaic in comparison to what is on offer at other schools, and in many instances the lecture halls and accommodation are just plain impractical, being Different For No Good Reason is maintained by Oxford in order to ensure elite status of the university.

Oxford these days is even complete with groupies - or rather, anti-groupies. The Animal Liberation Front (think that is what ALF stands for) provides background noise for all in geography/zoology/biology lectures, a bunch of die-hard protestors who have achieved absolutely nothing other than quadrupling the cost of building a new lab. I too am against futile animal testing, but please, anyone who threatens me - a Women's Studies student who wouldn't be able to jab a needle into anything that was going to squeak back at me - well, they kind of annoy me.

At Oxford you are given three days to write an essay, and the end product is peeled apart word by word until you realise that only four of the three thousand words were in the right place and meant something. You are granted a place here on the basis that you are intelligent enough to be here, and the rest of your time will be spent listening to tutors who are intent on proving that you are worthless. You pay an extra two thousand odd pounds a year on top of tuition fees to be a member of a college, which gives you no extra priveleges whatsoever and means nothing to anybody outside the institute. You attempt to retreat into your chosen sport for a 'break from work' and find yourself in bi-weekly competition with other colleges, and those without a cut-throat attitude to winning will not make the team. You are poked and prodded and directed and, unless you're careful, left a mere shadow of your former self. The likes of Charles and Sebastian do not reside in Oxford - much as I like to see the ivy in the botanic gardens, there is the constant nagging thought I should be doing something Useful. Being surrounded by so much success, it is hard to avoid getting dragged into the challenge.

Up until now, I've been successful in avoiding certain aspects of Oxford. I haven't taken to drinking gallons of coffee so I can squeeze in an extra few hours work, I don't sprint towards the library at the end of a tutorial to get the books required for the following week before any of my fellow students can pantingly arrive in my glorious wake. And, for the sake of my sanity, I intend to keep it this way: drifting along on the fringes, nobody entirely sure if I'm a genius or a complete dunce. I'll take Oxford for what it is: a feature on my CV. A game I played for a year. I've had some unforgettable and unique experiences here, don't get me wrong, and I'm suitably grateful for the opportunity to be part of the academic glory.

But dear God, I can't wait to get the hell away from here.