The second instalment of Lily Jones’s Diary takes a look at the St Peter’s College ball: deception, or the place to be?
When you think of a night out at St. Peter’s College there are certain things that come to mind. In particular, cross keys, sticky floors and embarrassing yourself. What you do not think of is glitz and glamour. So, needless to say when I was peer pressured into buying an eye-wateringly expensive ball ticket (£110?!?) I was prepared to be disappointed but not surprised. My expectations for the evening were not heightened leading up to the event. If you are familiar with the numerous oxfess’ declaring that the only food option was hash browns and 4000 doughnuts, you can see why. I began to worry that the theme – DECEPTION – was an in-joke between the ball committee.
So, with a Nature Valley granola bar in my pocket and a generally-pessimistic attitude, I entered the ball. Some may say I am easily impressed, but it will never fail to astound me how much a fairy light can add to a space.
It quickly became apparent that Oxfess and I were wrong. By the end of the first main stage act – Who Killed Tommy? – I was content that my splurge was worth every penny. I had to be dragged away from the music stages several times, and who could blame me? Every single act was outrageously talented, good looking and cooler than I could ever dream of being.
My lack of coolness was very evident when it came to my favourite aspect of the evening – the ball pit. Even considering some people’s late night library antics that evening, I still believe that the pit was quite possibly the most fun you could have fondling balls at Peter’s. Sure, it could have been the several open bars, one of which was making fantastic cocktails, or the caffeine from the Jericho Coffee Traders stand, but I was having the time of my life. But, might I add, so was everyone else. Nothing has made me doubt the academic prowess of the university more than the frankly animalistic way in which the ball pit was revelled in. Think less Bright Young Things and more toddler-hyped-up-on-sugar at the soft play.
So, after a great night of food, booze and music, there were certain things which remained constant with every other night in Peter’s. I still managed to embarrass myself at the Taylor Swift tribute act. I still drank too much. The floors were most definitely sticky by the end of the night. However, whereas I previously thought I’d be fuming at spending any more than the price of four Cross Keys, I ended the night very glad indeed that I’d done so. Maybe Peter’s deceived us, maybe it is the place to be after all.