The existence of Alexander Ewing is now very different

Since resigning my post last month, I must admit that during the first few weeks of term I suffered from decanal withdrawal syndrome.

Relegation from the Oriel senior common room (SCR), where I was a denizen for three years, took away more than hefty puddings at lunch.

I am now something of a pariah. When back to use a teaching room, former colleagues greet me with “what are you doing here?”.

I miss the coffee machine. The new head porter begrudgingly lets me use the lodge’s kettle but complains that I am taking too much milk.

In retirement, I still hear a few whispers about (anonymous) student buffoonery.

In a recent high-level meeting one student representative enquired about the college’s policy on test flying drones. NASA must be outsourcing.

And as I predicted, a fresher inevitably vomited voluminously in the corridor of our recently reopened Rhodes Building. Bet that was a hefty fine.

No, I don’t miss it, although being a junior dean is a well-trodden excuse for falling behind on your DPhil thesis. Now I have nowhere to hide.

Luckily the environs of Eynsham, my new home, are a boon for productivity. There is little else to do. I have so far rejected invitations to apply for an allotment, become a Morris dancer, or join an Aunt Sally team.

The highlight of the week is a Saturday night ‘meat draw’ at a local pub. I’m a tenner down and yet to win anything.

Oxford seems another world.

I am developing a habit of buying books in preference to suffering the purgatory that is the S1 commute to the Bodleian.

This necessity might just qualify me for some much-needed hardship funding.

If I’m even bothered to leave the cottage, the main activity of the day is a walk in Wytham Woods , my new ‘quad’.

I am starting to agree with Nietzsche that we write best with our feet.

When in better health, he would walk most of the day — thinking in the clean air — and jot it all down in the evenings.

He writes that: “We do not belong to those who have ideas only among books, when stimulated by books.

“It is our habit to think outdoors — walking, leaping, climbing, dancing, preferably on lonely mountains or near the sea where even the trails become thoughtful.”

The more humble sylvan surroundings of Wytham suit me just fine.

One need not decamp to the wilderness for these effects.

People like to forget that whilst living ‘in solitude’ on Walden Pond, Thoreau was never far from Concord, his home town.

He would routinely wander into town for a chat and also to drop off his dirty washing for his mother to sort out.

Compared to this lot, my two-hour ramblings are insufficient — and ideas mundane — but hopefully it is enough to get me over the line.

Alexander Ewing is a DPhil student and former junior dean at Oriel College. He is also a politics lecturer at St Catherine’s College.