An ode to The Bread Oven

A dusty copy of The Boar dips and dives across the empty grey wasteland of the piazza. A flattened Purple cup stirs in the icy breeze. The doors to the Oculus jerk and jam. Tragedy has struck, campus is silent: The Bread Oven has closed its doors. 

This off-brand Subway is the jewel in Warwick’s (Christmas cracker) crown – an essential stop for any student heading to the library, University House, the Learning Grid. Wherever your study space of choice, The Bread Oven ensures that though your brain may feel empty, your stomach is full. But while it remains shuttered up, it falls on The Boar to conjure up the experience for curious freshers and grieving veterans alike…

You patiently crawl through the rope barrier maze that can make you feel like you’re queuing for a movie premiere, or the opera. The reality is far better. Instead of strutting past billboards, you confront the daily special poster, contemplating the Meatless Monday option before inevitably settling for your usual. And instead of an auditorium, you get to grace those sticky benches in the SU atrium, where the only sound soaring is the wittering of vintage fair shoppers. Unless it’s the day of the organic food market, in which case there’s only silence. 

Wherever your study space of choice, The Bread Oven ensures that though your brain may feel empty, your stomach is full

Anticipation builds as you reach the front, excitement mixed with cautious apprehension. Will you be lucky enough to get a server who skilfully assembles your sandwich like it’s a mayo-oiled game of tetris? Or will you be lumbered with one who naively tries to shove in lettuce after your olives, sweetcorn and roasted veg, forcing you to ask, in a hushed whisper, for the plastic bag, instead of paper? You can’t pour from an empty glass, and saving the planet uses a whole lot of energy. A satisfying lunch must come first. 

Sandwich in hand and pleasantries exchanged, you flirt with the idea of sacrificing an extra quid for a can of coke and pack of Doritos. The promise of an extra star on your loyalty card wins you over – who can resist a celestial hole punch? At this point, you can practically taste the BBQ chicken, but first you must sing for your supper — or limber for your lunch — and perform an arduous balancing act. To keep all three components unscathed while you fumble about, flustered, for your Eat at Warwick card (RIP), takes great skill and much practice. 

What other campus eatery would have the boldness and brilliance to release their own line of merchandise?

But never fear, the cashier is kind, having served many a hungry student over the course of the day; they wait patiently as you scatter the counter with errant olives. Nothing in life is free, as the saying goes, so The Bread Oven will set you back a fiver. You don’t just face a charge, however, but lifelong imprisonment: you are now a slave to the Broven. Thoughts of melty brie paired with the sweet tang of cranberry will consume you until you give in post-lecture, hastily half-jogging up the stairs to try — and usually fail — to beat the lunchtime queue. 

But why The Bread Oven? Why lament the temporary loss of a sandwich shop? To that we say: what other campus eatery would have the boldness and brilliance to release their own line of merchandise? We are referring, of course, to that tiny bag only large enough to hold a single baguette, offering the look of Paris Hilton if she were to swap her chihuahua for a BLT. It only confirms that The Bread Oven is more than a meal – it is a lifestyle. Without it, we are lost.