In 2018 I moved from Sydney to Oxford to complete my masters. My mum was born in London, and I was raised on my gran’s stories about England, so moving to Oxford felt oddly like going home.
I was excited to get my degree, visit as many beautiful libraries as possible and play all the sports I could cram into my calendar. Falling in love wasn’t on my wishlist, but then I met Miranda.
We first met at an AFL Grand Final screening. A 2.30pm ball-drop in Melbourne meant an early start in the UK. I navigated my way to the common room through picture-perfect cobbled alleyways in the pre-dawn darkness. Miranda was energetically welcoming everyone through the door, distributing cups of coffee and bagels loaded with smashed avocado to bleary-eyed Aussies.
I remember thinking she had an amazing smile. She’s the kind of person who practically vibrates with energy when she’s enthusiastic about something. I wish I could say that Miranda was immediately struck by my charms but, as Collingwood was playing, her mind was on more important things.
Over the next couple of weeks, I found out more about Miranda. She was completing her masters in classical archaeology. She was a rower, the president of the Oxford University Australia and New Zealand Society, and in one of Oxford’s best chapel choirs. She seemed to know everyone.
She was terrifying.
I had a strategy, which was to try to attract her attention without going to the nerve-racking extreme of actually speaking to her. Just before Michaelmas term ended, I hosted a raucous pot-luck dinner in the common area of my graduate accommodation. Spirits were high, there was mulled wine on the stove and I forgot my nerves long enough to put Miranda in charge of the music playlist. In time-honoured Australian style, our initial conversation was mainly roasting one another about our tastes in Christmas music.
She told me later that what really got her attention was when I (intentionally) set the Christmas pudding on fire. Buoyed up by my success with the pudding – and a nip of cooking brandy – I finally plucked up the courage to ask her out.
Two months later, we were walking down Turl Street on a blustery winter day, holding hands, our clasped fingers warm in the pocket of my favourite teal coat. One moment I was explaining why I find Jane Austen’s works profoundly romantic, and the next I’d used our own relationship as an example of finding the person you wanted to be with for ever. I had never found it easy to talk about my feelings, but with Miranda the words came out before I had time to second-guess myself.
I only had a moment to be nervous before she looked at me and smiled. I knew she felt the same way.
We got married in September 2022 after weathering long distance, a global pandemic, unexpected cohabitation in a tiny apartment and an interstate move organised in under three days. We’re settled in Melbourne now, with two smug and spoilt indoor rabbits. There have been many wonderful moments in our years together, but I still think back on that accidental, unexpected confession on a wintery day.
