Full issue can be found here: http://www.tcs.cam.ac.uk/assets/downloads/TCS_Volume14_Michaelmas_Issue9.pdf
Well, this is it, my friends. Mis
amigos. It has been fun, and
laughs, but now we must part, for
the Christmas Vac, and maybe
forever. Who knows. TCS have
betrayed nothing so far about
renewing this space, or even
letting me loose to do other
writing things for them, so
for now this is the last of
these mutterings.
A girl came up to me this
weekend a fter I refereed a
college water polo match
and was getting changed,
and after listening to a bit of
a conversation, said,
‘Oh! You’re Sophie
Clarke, right?
You write the
column? I like
it, it’s funny.’
To be honest, she was probably
just scared, as she’d caught the end
of the match before hers, when I’d
‘accidentally’ mullered Tit Hall’s
captain and shoulder shoved
him underwater. Even if she’d
thought that what I write is,
quote, ‘a pile of steaming
incompetence’ (thanks,
ginger end! You know
who you are!) she was
unlikely to tell me
that as she feared for
her life. Probably.
Considering that I
was also nursing
a large lump
on my jaw
b o n e
from an
elbow to
the face
a er some argy-bargy in the pool,
it’s not an unlikely explanation.
Nevertheless, I was suffused
with joy and happiness – someone
knew who I was simply through
my writing! is was almost as
good as that time when I was
referred to as ‘the infamous
Sophie Clarke’ in the queue for
Life. It made me think, what have
I got from this column nonsense
apart from nine missed deadlines
(sorry Suzanne! You’re the best
editor ever for putting up with
me!) and a few thousand words of
ramblings about my life?
Well…people have liked it. I
think. To my twenty or so readers,
thanks. It’s made me feel like I know
where my place is in Cambridge
again, helped me slightly to work
through the traumas of coming
back to this crazy town. I think my
friends are grateful that, instead of
cornering them with a packet of
Revels and a bottle of wine, I pour
out my problems to a collective
group with more re fined language
and a few more attempts at being
amusing than when I’m simply
rolling around trollied in the bar.
I said in my first column that
my gown had made me cry, when
I bought my BA gown instead of
dusting off my old undergrad one.
I wore the BA gown to formal at
Pembroke the other day, and on
my bike on the way there, a tear
froze to my face then as well. I
couldn’t believe how lucky I was to
be back here and to have had such
an amazing time with all of the new
people in my second Cambridge
life. I hope everyone else has had
good, if not so transitional, terms
too – and feel free to always say
hello. I probably won’t hurt you,
unless we’re in the pool.
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