Nick Hilton on why he will soon be dead to this wonderful city

Coventry is an interesting city. According to a set of facts that we looked up on the 45-minute train journey, it can pride itself on being the first city in England to twin with a foreign settlement (Stalingrad) whilst also being the city in England that is furthest from the sea. My reason for visiting Coventry was to participate in a national student quiz competition, organised by a national paper. I had been co-opted into a team at the last moment and, after a storming final round, had won the Oxford heat. So, without much idea of what to expect, we found ourselves bound for Coventry (which, for some unexplained reason, had been chosen to play host to the final).

I’ve never been a brilliant ‘participator’, choosing solo sports over team sports and generally preferring to be president than committee member. But I tagged along, enjoying rhubarb and custard sucky sweets like the old man that, at heart, I am. We arrived in Coventry on time and found ourselves in sea of students. Glasgow, Newcastle, Exeter, Teeside, Liverpool, KCL, Manchester… everywhere seemed to have representation and we’d all converged here, in Coventry, to be quizzed and make awkward small talk. “You must be really clever,” was the stock line from other universities, which, whilst flattering my ego, seemed to raise the pressure. Were we the favourites to win?

The quiz kicked off and it soon became clear that some universities were just there for the free booze. Five Peronis are never going to help your chances, Bournemouth, for what it’s worth. As the Oxford team, we maintained a buttoned-up, repressed sort of comradeship throughout. We sipped white wine; we hid our answers from Leeds.

I don’t think anyone’s particularly interested in the narrative of a quiz, so suffice it to say that we won. We won despite not being a particularly good quiz team and getting about 60 per cent overall. Whilst our performance wasn’t bad, I think it reflects quite poorly on those teams who we resoundingly crushed.

I received my little trophy (and the prize of a two-week trip around Europe) with some embarrassment. What a cliché, I couldn’t help but think. We had done this on an impulse and, frankly, would probably finish in the bottom half of most Oxford-based quizzes, but here we were, in Coventry, being lauded as winners. Supreme quizzers. The train back to Oxford was disastrous. Inclement weather had cancelled all services between Coventry and home, which meant we had to take taxis to Leamington Spa, a train to Banbury and then another train back to Oxford. My teammates all seemed happy to do this because we had just won a free holiday, but I couldn’t help but feel distracted.

That holiday, if and when it arrives, will come after my final exams, after leaving Oxford for good. I’m not doing a masters. I’m not going to work in the Ashmolean. I’m not going to play football at the Kassam. By the time we reap the rewards of our adventure to Coventry, I will be dead to this city.

And you know what, as our train rumbled back towards those dreaming, soggy spires, I couldn’t help but feel a little pre-emptive nostalgia.

I am often an unbearably reflective person, but visiting Coventry had only managed to further open my eyes to what a really, really nice city this is. It’s a city without an overpass. It’s a city with genuine cobbles. It’s a city that looks beautiful, even when flooded. It’s a city where the libraries look like museums and where the museums look like palaces. And, most importantly, it’s a city where even the most mediocre quiz team can win a national competition.