I am now on my long summer break after finishing my first year at university. Much of the last term was sheer had work, with some days which were little more than eating, sleeping, revising and seeing how much revising you could avoid doing before you felt guilty. However, once the exams were over, and after the immense swell of relief that accompanied the end of the final exam, the streets and pubs of Cambridge once more saw the likes of students and the surreal social drought was finally over in a storm of garden parties, pub visits and general lounging about. Before that the social side of life was confined to strangely constrained activities in the evening, in which we all tried to forget revision and work while simultaneously reasoning that we deserved a night off really. Or at least it was that way for me.
The supposed highlight of the week after term was up (Known as May Week, despite being in June) was the College May ball, a biannual event of self proclaimed extravagance. As this was an all night affair, from an advertised start time of 9:30pm to about 6 in the morning the day before was mainly taken up by sleeping, as was a significant portion of the day after. However, at seven in the evening on the day of the ball I got dressed into my white tie and managed to put most of the studs in the wrong holes at least once and still finished as ‘dressed’ an hour later with some the wrong way round. At eight thirty we joined the cue and finally gained access one hour after the advertised start time. And although the champagne flowed freely I still felt slightly disappointed. I was unable to get into the casino, which closed at four, and the port and cheese ran out shortly after dinner, meaning I had no chance to sample it. Overall the event felt like the disappointing third film in an otherwise excellent trilogy. I didn’t regret going, for it was necessary for completeness, yet I couldn’t help feeling things were incomplete and could have somehow been better. I’d call it the ‘Star Wars Episode I’ of May Balls, but as it lacked anything that compared with Jar Jar Binks, and was actually still a good (If expensive) night out, I think I’ll spare it that humility.
Yet now that time seems in another world, for I have returned home. Suddenly the carnival like Cambridge in May Week seems so distant as I find myself back home and the glorious weather that kept the Pimms flowing freely has gone into hiding. However, I have met up with friends again and have received exam results, proving that all my hard work paid off with a first. Unfortunately, the return home was made somewhat less pleasant by my Grandad’s funeral which fell on the Monday after he passed away a few days after my exams finished.
Meanwhile, I am stuck at home, cursing my inability to drive and constantly mumbling about getting a job without actually getting anything organised. Typically me, but at least I’m updating my website.