I am going to have to be a bit cryptic tonight. The last six hours or so have demonstrated both how rapidly possibilities that seemed to exist can suddenly disappear, as well as how unknown prospects of different kinds can soon replace them. It may have something to do with the sheer compression of Oxford: compression of space, talent, ideas, ambitions, and interest. The only thing for it is to stick to what you are and your hopes about what you may become.
That, and make sure to invite staggering pairs of relative strangers home for tea, at around midnight on a Tuesday. Therein may lie the redemption of at least a day.