Full issue can be found here: http://www.tcs.cam.ac.uk/assets/downloads/TCS_Volume4_Michaelmas_Issue4.pdf
As I write this I’m having a panic:
I’ve got nothing to wear for
Matriculation Dinner. Well, that’s
a lie. I do, actually, but the dress
I was planning to wear has been
discarded as I’ve just realised
that it’s the dress I wore to
my original Matriculation
Dinner four years ago.
I
think it says quite a lot
about my sense of eternal
style (and my eternal state of student poverty) that I have the
same dress hanging around
in my wardrobe. I recollect
as well that I am in
largely the same
situation as my
last Matric
Dinner – I’ve
got a nasty case of Freshers’ flu
hanging around, I’ve been out
four nights on the trot, (with
the nagging sensation that I
embarrassed myself more on
the previous Friday night
than I’ll ever be able to
apologise for) and I’m
running late. Again.
Oh yeah, being a
postgraduate means
I’ve got everything
sorted and under
control.
If you were
to look at the
intricate timetable
I’ve crafted
onto some
magic whiteboard paper (look it up – it
will BLOW your MIND) then this
could easily be the impression you
come away with. However, I feel
ever more like a panicked fresher
undergraduate: a large amount
of reading, a seemingly endless
amount of extra-curricular
activities, and always the fear
that by electing to stay in and
sleep instead of joining in with
the latest MCR event, I’ll be left
behind by my peers.
It’s a bit of a balancing act,
fitting back into the college
where people sort of know who
I am but I’m trying to get to
know the new postgrads. They’re
all talking about novicing; I’ve
somehow got myself signed up
to W1. They’re chatting about
the newest exciting thing they’ve
discovered in town, and I feel a
little bit world-weary as I recall
the halcyon day long ago when I
too found that same statue/space/
view.
Oh, Cambridge. How do
you do it? You keep entrancing
buckets of new people to fall in
love with you. Despite the fact
that you’ve replaced the pasty
shop with a Jack Wills, for which
I lay the blame squarely at the feet
of one D. Cameron, somehow the
charm of my town (I’ve been here
ages – of course it’s my town!)
is bringing me together with
loads of new fun people who all
appear to like the same things
I do – revels, of the chocolate
AND party kind, champers, and
studying what you’re passionate
about to a high level.
I’ve found a dress now, in
between typing this column,
having a bit of a nosy round
some Facebook pro files and
reading an article about the
impact that cultural background
has on education. The MCR are
meeting up for gin and tonic
pre-drinks. I’ve sorted out the
embarrassment hangover from
Friday night and I feel like I’m
ready to face the evening ahead.
Unlike the fresher I just heard
scurrying past my window,
fretting about her almost-overdue
essay, I think I’ve got stuff just
about sorted.
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