A Northerner at Cambridge

It feels like an entire lifetime has passed since I was last asked to write a story for Colne Life. In reality, it’s only been about four months. Time moves differently at university; I’m convinced of it – and to be honest I’m still not sure if it goes uncomfortably quick or painfully slow. Either way I made it through the first term, I suppose that’s the most important thing.

Against the odds, I survived ten weeks of relative independence without being poisoned by my terrible culinary skills, getting lost in the narrow winding Cambridge streets (that one’s a particular miracle), or, God forbid, accidentally dropping a coloured sock into my white laundry. I hope I’ve not spoken too soon, though; I’ve still got another two and a half years to go.

I think it’s fair to say that Cambridge, for the most part, operates almost in its own little world. Comparing my experiences to my friends at other unis, though, I do think Cambridge (or, rather, my college, as they all sort of function independently from each other) is a lot more ‘normal’ than I was anticipating, at least my experience of it has been. That being said, the Hogwarts comparisons are, understandably, inevitable.

“There are colleges that, like Hogwarts houses, can get very competitive with one another…”

There are colleges that, like Hogwarts houses, can get very competitive with one another (my college, Trinity Hall, is objectively the best one, of course); there are dozens of the most gorgeous old libraries; many colleges have sprawling gardens and greenhouses; and, probably most famously, we do have gowned formal dinners in huge portrait-lined, candlelit dining halls. In the case of the latter, though, I’ve managed to avoid them for the most part. ‘Formals’ where you wear a gown are very much optional (I’ve only actually worn my gown once so far) and, whilst we will sometimes have tea in our college’s gorgeous dining hall, it’s all really informal.

The food itself is also, thankfully, very normal – we did have guinea fowl once at Matriculation Dinner, but (again, thankfully) that’s been the one exception, and even then, it was basically just glorified chicken masquerading itself as fancier than it actually is. That’s about as far as the Hogwarts similarities go. However: to my disappointment, it turns out we don’t play quidditch, we’re not allowed pets (so that rules out me having an owl), and I’m yet to run into a dragon or centaur or any other magical creature. I think I’d definitely prefer Silly, our much-loved college cat, anyway.

I have been – and, to tell the truth, continue to be – very worried about a lot of the Cambridge stereotypes (I don’t need to list them off here; I’m sure you’re aware of them): worried, mainly, that people would see me as trying to conform to them. Maybe it’s just my college (being one of the smallest colleges in Cambridge, it also feels like one of the friendliest), maybe it’s even just my friends, but those stereotypes are, in my experience, a lot less prevalent than I was expecting. I’ve met quite a lot of fellow northerners, for example, and – at least so far – I’m yet to have my (admittedly pretty weak) northern accent made fun of by a southerner.

“A Week in the Life of a University Student’ is, then, about as interesting as you’d expect it to be honest: just a lot of reading (like, a LOT of reading).”

There is definitely some truth to some of the stereotypes, I think, but, a bit like the guinea fowl, they are undoubtedly the exception rather than the norm. To my delight, you can also quite easily avoid many of the ‘Cambridgeisms’, like gowned dinners, in favour of a generally more relaxed and informal time.

‘A Week in the Life of a University Student’ is, then, about as interesting as you’d expect, to be honest: just a lot of reading (like, a LOT of reading), essay writing, completely healthy sleep schedules, and the occasional night out that always leaves you wishing you’d just stayed in with a hot chocolate and a movie. I’m really lucky to be able to say I have, so far at least, quite enjoyed my course though.

I’m a history student, mainly focusing on 16th and 17th-century British history and 18th-century global history. To me, that is heaven—I’ve found both the deeper dive into centuries that have long interested me and the exploration of new periods and places to be equally interesting. But (as with any work, I think) there are times it can feel a bit like Groundhog Day, probably not helped by being in a completely new and sort of unfamiliar environment.

As soon as you’re done with one task, it’s straight onto the next, and then the next, and the next. It’s fascinating but often draining. But whilst that rhythm of work has been (and felt like) the bulk of my first term, I think it’s the little social things I’ve done in between the daily cram of academic articles and lectures that have been my favourite memories of my first 10 weeks.

Ahead of going to university, it was the social side of things that worried me most. Work itself would undoubtedly be challenging, but I at least felt I knew where I was with it; university social life was new and scary and unfamiliar. I’m a massive introvert, I don’t drink, and to be quite honest, I couldn’t think of anything worse than pulling an all-nighter in a loud and overcrowded club. None of that has really changed, but the friends I’ve made have ensured that it didn’t need to. We’ve been ‘out out’ a few times and had a nice time when we did, but we’ve also had film nights, pizza parties, definitely-not-unhealthily-competitive Mario Kart competitions, and even nights where we sit by the river and talk.

“Work is undoubtedly the foundation for everything – of course it is, it’s university…”

There have been days where we’ve all gone shopping (particularly dangerous for me is the four-storey Waterstones about five minutes away from my college); days where we’ve gone to the pub to watch football, to the surprise of everyone who knows me; days where we’ve explored other colleges and, naturally, judged them against our own. On probably my favourite day, I took a few hours out to visit Cambridge’s Fitzwilliam Museum, touring (and almost getting lost in) rooms filled with Egyptian sarcophagi, Renaissance paintings, Japanese woodblocks, Medieval weaponry, Chinese porcelain and, my personal favourite, Greek statues, before then heading to an evening concert celebrating the music of Japanese animation company Studio Ghibli. Work is undoubtedly the foundation for everything – of course it is, it’s university – but I think it’s important to mention there are times where you can escape all that, and I feel so lucky to have found some really close friends to have a break from work with.

I also feel really lucky to not only be in such a beautiful city but to be in a city so steeped in history. No matter where you go in Cambridge you’re surrounded by gorgeous historic buildings, huge churches and chapels, tiny bookshops in cobbled alleyways, old bridges, labyrinthine libraries, massive green spaces – the list really does go on! As a city, I really do feel at home there. That was always what drew me to Cambridge. I don’t care for the prestige of the university or the history of renowned alumni or anything like that. I never did. It’s the city itself that I wanted to live and study in more than anything, and I feel immensely grateful to now be there.

“Plus, unlike down south, there’s a chippy on nearly every street corner here, and that’s always a bonus.”

That being said, I have missed being up north, though. A lot, actually. It’s Christmas break as I’m writing this. As much as I’m looking forward to returning to the world of microwave dinners, decoding confusingly written academic articles, pot noodle teas, frantic bike rides to a lecture you’re 10 minutes late to, and pot noodle midnight snacks, I am trying to savour being home as much as I can. It sounds painfully cliché, but really, there is something special about being up here. Cambridge is absolutely gorgeous, and I really do feel at home down there, but there’s a warmth to Lancashire and Yorkshire (figuratively speaking… it’s chucking it down outside as I write this) that you don’t get in quite the same way elsewhere. Plus, unlike down south, there’s a chippy on nearly every street corner here, and that’s always a bonus.

Cambridge is different, absolutely, but I think, in a way, that’s part of its charm. It’s definitely not for everyone – it can be really academically intense, pressurised, overwhelming, and I would be lying if I made it sound like there haven’t already been some really tough times. It’s hard not to feel like an imposter in that kind of an environment, it’s hard not to doubt yourself and your choices, to find motivation, or have confidence.

I’m still working on that, and I think I will be throughout my whole degree. But I suppose I’ve been reassured in knowing I’m not alone in feeling this way, not only from my lovely friends and endlessly supportive family but also from tutors and college staff. It’s a university; it won’t be easy, but that’s okay. For every bad time, there have been about three good ones. I feel indescribably lucky to be in a place I feel comfortable in, with friends I feel comfortable with. The knowledge of having that to fall back on will, I am sure, help me get through what I can only imagine will be an incredibly challenging, draining, uncertain, confusing, self-doubting, but, ultimately, exciting and rewarding next few years.

ColneLife March/April 24