I was curious to see if Oxford celebrated Halloween. There were billboards with spooks and goblins leading me to believe there might be sweet children dressed as the Prime Minister, rugby stars, or Dr. Who walking down the street.
I found a Dracula and a few witches working in my local grocery store but no aisle piled with bags of mini-tempting-treats, and therefore, I assumed mass door-to-door handouts were not something to prepare for in my neighborhood. So, we planned to venture out into town after dark.
Since Halloween fell on a Saturday, we decided to think like college students and started our celebration investigation on Thursday night. We went to Jericho, the trendy artsy community a 20-minute walk from our flat. We perched at a window table and enjoyed a long leisurely meal ready to view any festivities. What we saw was hundreds of students walking with purpose and determination towards St. Hughes, the local college. At times we weren’t sure if they were dressed in costume. That one could be dressed as a vagrant with the ripped jeans and baggy shirt, or it could be a clothing style. She could be dressed as a hooker, or she could be trying to hook up for free. Do you think she meant to put those pants with that shirt or was she doing that for the holiday? And did you really pierce your face permanently? Perhaps I’m being catty and I should move on. One thing was consistent throughout the crowd – every person was carrying a single bottle of wine, leading me to conclude that either there was a party at the college, or that this was the best university student session ever.
Friday, in full costume, we went out early to hunt down Halloween in Oxford. There are two things you don’t see in Oxford: white gym sneakers and baseball caps. We proudly sported them whilst looking for other costumed freaks. Corn Market, the shopping hub of the city, was as crowded as usual but people were dressed in an unusual fashion. The cobblestone streets were full of wobbly high-heeled college girls and formal gowns, and supportive boys in tuxes obviously rushing to a ball at Christ Church College. We pushed on but there was no sign of ghosts or goblins.
Saturday was Halloween. We walked through the center of Oxford and a light fog lay over a large bright moon in the sky and the night was crisp. Below the streets were quiet. It’s easy to love a city like this, ancient buildings glowing in the moonlight. Looking into the windows I could see dimly lit rooms quiet with focused students. The town had returned to nerd-haven. However, it was 31 October, all Hallows eve, so we pushed on to the posh side and Summertown in search of Halloween. In our walk we saw college students scattered about. In all, maybe a dozen scantily dressed women dressed as they would be any Saturday night, carrying a bottle of wine, but on each face a single drawn scar and following just a few paces behind them were young men scampering along, clearly their minions in tow.
As we moved into the residential area we could see bands of young boys, 10-14 years of age dressed in black. As we came upon them, I noticed each boy was carrying cartons of eggs. When I was young there were boys that would throw eggs at houses in the neighborhood. I’m sure these well-bred prep-school boys would never do such a thing and therefore we came to the following conclusion: For Halloween in Oxford, the traditional celebration is for young boys to gather in the evening and make omelets.
