Food
Among the interminable disputes about what distinguishes Oxford from Cambridge, one crucial difference is usually overlooked. Afternoon tea and morning coffee. You can get them in the Cambridge University Library. You can't in the Bodleian. From this primordial distinction, all others - social, intellectual, institutional - inexorably follow. Tea is the seldom- recognised key to the whole Oxford-Cambridge divide.
Oxford, as has often been remarked, is a worldlier place than Cambridge. It feels more like an outpost of London. Social graces seem to count for more, and geekiness is tolerated less. There is greater pressure to shine - to impress, to be a wit. Dry pretentiousness is frowned upon, but drunken pontificating is encouraged. Pubbiness and plumminess are characteristics of Oxford, not Cambridge.
All these generalisations can be explained by the forced exodus of Oxford scholars into the cafes and pubs of the city every morning and afternoon. Feeling a little parched around 11.30am, Professor X breaks off his doodlings in the Duke Humphrey reading room and meets a friend for a jolly half in the King's Arms. Meanwhile, undergraduate Y is sipping her mochaccinos in Morton's. Research student Z is measuring out pennies to pay for a Maison Blanc brioche, to feed his thoughts on Aquinas.
None of these adult shenanigans take place in Oxford's sister university. There is nowhere to glitter in Cambridge. Cafe society here is either childish or geriatric - Clown's cafe, plastered with pre-school drawings, or Auntie's Tea Rooms, adorned with doilies. In any case, there is no need for the Cambridge scholar to patronise town venues when all of his or her refreshment needs are provided for in the cosseted enclave of the university library tea-room. You can walk straight from rare books to the tea-rooms and back again, untroubled by any intrusion from the outside world. Hence the introversion and seriousness of the Cambridge character. Shyness and secrecy are normal. This is the university of the apostles. The internal rules of the place ignore the fashions of the world.
The tea-room's menu, too, operates according to Cambridge logic. The absolute mainstay of the kitchens is the university library scone, a craggy rock of carbohydrate, improbably large, which has remained unchanged for decades. It comes in either cheese or fruit flavours and costs 65p: a bargain, since what it lacks in lightness, it more than makes up in ballast, keeping out the Fenland cold with margariney resilience. The orange-streaked cheese variety has powered countless finals exams and PhDs. At first scent of the morning's new batch, an eager stream of scholars fills up the turquoise chairs. Some students make a meal out of it, with an 80p bowl of the glutinous soup of the day. Huddles of dons gossip over fruit scones and cups of the acridly ratiocinative coffee (63p). Lonely researchers nurse tea and Bourbon biscuits, before hurrying back to the Off-icial Publications room.
At lunch, there are roast dinners (about £2, not including overcooked green beans) or Women's Institute-style rice salads and sandwiches. Ghostly, intense girls emerge from annexes to crumble nervous packets of Jacobs cream crackers (15p). At tea, the regulars reappear, queuing for plates of pink buttercream sponges (80p), stewed char and the last cold scones of the day. Though the faces are the same as in the morning, the atmosphere is skittish. One overhears love affairs conducted in German. White-haired historians smile with their last forkful of carrot cake, looking forward to tomorrow's research and tomorrow's first scone.
And so the rhythm of academic life continues, as regular as shortbread. Everything stops for tea; but if they ever stopped tea, Cambridge itself would stop.
Post this article to
We want to encourage people to comment on our content and to exchange views with other readers and hope this will be done on a courteous basis. However, if you encounter posts which are offensive please let us know by using the 'report this comment' facility or by emailing comments@newstatesman.co.uk and we will take swift action where necessary.
