If you were my sub-fusc, where would you be hiding?

Oxford, I thought you were strange when I found myself celebrating Christmas before the start of Advent, but this is odder by far. Summoning us back to your dreaming spires, after a year spent realising that 'real' life lacks rigour and the constant search for truth, a year of letting your brain atrohpy but not enough not to regret it... Long enough to forget where I put my sub fusc hat and naff ribbon (ultimate proof of how sexist Oxford is - we'll let women in, but on all important occasions men will look sexily splendiferous while women will all look very silly) - I mean, it's not the kind of thing that has an obvious place in your new house.

Maybe this is why Oxford people are so dogmatically nostalgic, far more so than Tabs (we are also just infinitely more poetic) - because we get summoned back just as the prospect of spending all summer and every summer for the rest of our active lives in an office makes itself real...