Big Talk

There’s lots to do in Oxford. A feminist poetry evening, art at the community garden, comedy in a basement cafe. Someone will lend their allotment keys, and I’ll spend the afternoon picking enormous courgettes. At the bike co-op, I’m learning the ropes.

This makes Oxford a great place to spend your twenties, but there's also stress. Insecurity - financial, domestic, emotional. Less free time. Graduate life is different, and we have to adapt. 

One of adulthood’s constants is small talk, which gets tiring. The time we easily spend together is crammed around other commitments. Friendships sometimes stall. How close could they become if our circumstances were different?

Secondly, it’s harder to keep learning. Without tutorials to keep my brain awake, sharing ideas is ever more important. Personally, I can find these discussions hard to get round to, especially with newer friends. Instead of holding back, how can we use our ideas to learn about each other? 

How do we protect our energy, intellect, and empathy for meaningful conversations? 

This is what we’ve come up with. 

the book club without a book 

Text from Amelia. “I had a thought - a monthly book club, but we don’t all read the same book, you just talk about whatever book you’ve read that month.” 

Six of us met at the Jam Factory a week or so later. We took turns, spoke about our books, and let the tide of discussion take us. 

This was a great idea because: 

Talking about books means talking about yourself. The books we choose show so much about us. They’re a springboard for our own ideas. They allow people to ask us questions. 

 Books give us a reason to share ideas. Day-to-day, we don’t necessarily expect a thoughtful conversation. But throw an idea to someone who's ready and they'll bounce new ideas back. Ideas you’ve never thought of! Ideas you disagree with! Ideas that change the way you think forever. 

Sharing a book gives you an experience in common. Several of us had read The Power - we could spend an evening just on that. When I borrowed an ethnography of a Stockton food bank, I was glad to have someone to discuss it with. 

I’m excited to see friendships grow as we allow ourselves to be interesting. Recently I experienced this with strangers, too. 

 the empathy dinner 

Recently, I went to a Tribeless Conversation. Rachel called it an "empathy dinner." Conor laughed at me and called it "deep speed dating." Basically, it was a space for strangers to have discussions without small-talk, facilitated by cards. I was apprehensive, but it was great.

We each took a prompt card: words like achievements, isolation, family, control. We had reaction cards, played only when someone had finished speaking. The prompts were the basis of our stories - but perhaps ‘story’ is too specific a word. Usually, there was no clear narrative arc, and often no resolution. We spoke about ideas, lessons, thoughts. And we listened. 

Being human is universally confusing, joyous, heartbreaking, and illuminating. The degrees shift, but so much is common ground. In this context, I felt confident to fill a space I knew I was welcome to, then listen without selfishness. 

The evening filled me with creative fuel, brought my ideas to the boil, added more to the mix. Maybe we’ll meet up again - but if not, we’ve still benefited. 

getting past ‘how are you?’ 

Meredith Park said, “I’ve learned not to ask how are you, but how are you feeling today?” 

There’s a time and a place, but I like this. It makes the usual opening line genuine.

What can we ask to help us share ideas? “What are you thinking” is boxed as the classic needy-girlfriend phrase. It’s overwhelming. 

Perhaps by asking, more often: “what do you think about this?” 

But what’s also important is the power of chatting - and the power of quiet, too. Small talk can be dull, but it’s often a crucial stage of gaining trust. Light conversation is important when you need social contact but your energy is low. Or if you just need to warm up first. 

And sometimes, you don’t want to say how you are. Sometimes, you don’t want to say what you’re thinking. Privacy matters, and silence is valuable - closeness isn’t always built through words. 

I’ve been in Oxford long enough now to know myself here. I’m glad I’ve made it this far. These are times to learn new ways to learn, to share, and to be.