This Tuesday and Wednesday I head to Oxford University for a grand all expenses paid Politics Conference, designed to ‘catalyse the minds of leaders of the future’. Yikes. I fully expect to use my God given gift of the gab far too much and end up in a discussion where I act too posh for my own good, and be wrong. Cue boys from Eton, an unwritten rule of how to speak, what to do and what to say. But more importantly, what to wear.
This afternoon gave way to a Fashion Show, myself parading up and down, up and down in at least 20 different outfits for both the day time and the Tuesday evening ‘Dinner Dance’. I promised myself I wouldn’t conform. I’ve been to Oxford once before but all I know about the Uni itself is from ‘Morse’ and ‘Lewis’, sterotypical much?!
I really do not know what to expect. I guess all I can do is be who I am, dress how I dress and speak how I speak. And if I offend anyone in the meantime? Tough love baby.