Methinks the lady doth protest a little too much...
In our collective cultural imagination, however, Oxbridge means the dreaming spires - a kind of massive Bullingdon Club where rich undergraduates still flaunt their boaters and blazers, and dotty dons get sozzled every night on the college port (while hoping to avoid the Inspector Morse-style murders in the quad). Of course, for most of us, this isn't remotely how it is (I've not tasted port for 30 years...
Not tasted port for 30 years? Well, it can only be because she doesn't actually like the stuff, there is hardly a shortage last time we checked.
As for the tradition of allowing despots to buy places for their offspring, I'm pleased to see that this is still going strong.
As for the tradition of allowing despots to buy places for their offspring, I'm pleased to see that this is still going strong.
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