During the First World War the number of students decreased considerably, as most of them were called up to serve in the army. The university itself gave part of its premises to military hospitals. After the war, the city was quickly rebuilt and became a centre of industry. In the Second World War the destruction of Oxford was bypassed, as the city did not have a developed heavy industry, and Nazi Germany did not have much sense to spend resources on it.

Mass labour migration after the war turned Oxford into a multicultural city. It remains so today: the number of international students from all over the world grows every year. This beautiful old city has become a centre of intellectual potential, with technological and scientific facilities that attract young minds, and is still a city of great scientific potential.

The largest and oldest university in the city is Oxford University, which is where I enrolled: it has thirty-eight colleges, as well as six hostels – closed educational institutions owned by religious orders without college status. The institution is divided into nine faculties: English Language and Literature; History; Linguistics; Philology and Phonetics; Medieval and Modern Languages; Music; Philosophy, Theology and Religion; Ancient Sciences; Oriental Languages and Culture. It also includes research centres where scholars and students work. Every year, more than twenty thousand students from all over the world choose this institution as their «alma mater».

The architecture of the city deserves volumes of description, but I would not be witty if I said: «Gothic reigns here!». Gothic, which attracts millions of tourists every year. Many of Oxford University's colleges are also housed in medieval buildings. For example, mine is the beautiful old St John's College, founded in 1511 by Lady Margaret Beaufort, the mother of King Henry the Seventh.

Thus, I became a part of this beautiful, one of the most famous and ancient universities in the world, and was unspeakably happy at the thought.

Monday was the first day of school. I was incredibly excited, and I spent Sunday night foolishly: I spent the rest of the morning choosing my outfit and opted for a white shirt with narrow arms, a black skirt with a classic cut, black tights, shoes with a comfortable heel, and, of course, a black silk neckband. The robe, new and neatly ironed, weighed on the back of a chair.

In the morning I went for a run, cutting my jog down to an hour, showered, washed my hair, blow-dried it, put on my suit, tucked my hair into a knot at the back of my head, put on my shoes, carefully folded the robe into my bag, twirled in front of the mirror, put on my autumn brown coat, left the house, got on my bike and rode to the college. I was so excited I could barely hear the noise around me, even though it was always following me, but this time the excitement drowned out the perpetual buzzing in my head.

As I pulled up to the car park, I hitched my bike to a post and stood there hesitantly, something holding me back, restraining my actions. When I was lost, I was very indecisive. So now I was silently looking around, watching hundreds of students walking boldly towards the college.

«What kind of cowardice is this!? Are these people braver than me?» – I thought irritably, and these thoughts moved me.

I walked into the college and, watching the other students, handed my coat to the wardrobe and put on my robe. But then my nerves kicked in, and I hid in a corner, not knowing what to do next. My courage faded, leaving me alone with a sickening sense of awkwardness: everyone knew what to do but me! I huddled in the corner, realising that I was being a fool, but afraid to leave this refuge.