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Eight Hours Of Inferiority

Eight Hours Of Inferiority

In her welcome speech, the college principal apparently told freshers that there are twenty-four hours in every day: eight for sleeping, eight for work, and eight for other things (societies, socialising, and so on). My tutor, when she quoted this to us in our start of term meeting, added, “But I think six or seven hours of working is probably enough.” I disagree with both of them. Strongly. The latter, marginally less strongly, but I still disagree. This way of…

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Settling In

Settling In

I arrived in Cambridge at lunchtime on Friday. By about 10pm I’d unpacked as much as I could stand to unpack, on the basis that if I leave it in a box this early in the term, it will stay in that box forever. On Saturday morning I filmed and edited a flat tour before any of my flatmates have arrived, again because I knew that if I didn’t do it straight away, it just wouldn’t get done, based on…

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Post-Exam Plans and Sleep

Post-Exam Plans and Sleep

I don’t make a habit of apologising on my blog every time I disappear for weeks at a time, but I feel like I probably should, because… yeah, I disappeared for nearly a month this time, and I feel bad about that. To be fair, I have an excuse, which is that I was mired in the hell of Cambridge exams, and have actually done more work in the last two weeks than in any other two-week period since I…

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A Conspiracy Against Productivity

A Conspiracy Against Productivity

It hasn’t been the easiest few days for me, to the point where I’m beginning to think there’s a conspiracy in place to stop me ever beginning to catch up on work. I’ve resigned myself to being somewhat behind and the fact that I can’t change this, but I was hoping not to fall further behind. Sadly, it was not to be. On Friday, I was collecting a book for my next Brittonic History essay when I tripped slightly on…

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Reflections On Referenda

Reflections On Referenda

I’m faced, in the near future, with a couple of referendums (referenda? referendummies? referendoesthisreallyhelp?) in which I’m expected to vote one way or the other: in, or out. One’s the much publicised and globally observed ‘Brexit’ vote about staying in the European Union. The other is the vote on whether Cambridge University should disaffiliate from the National Union of Students, a vote that’s happened at a bunch of other universities across the country in recent weeks. I’m fairly sure of…

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Another Term Done (Sort Of)

Another Term Done (Sort Of)

Cambridge terms are intense, overwhelming, and exhausting… but at least they’re short. Lectures finished for the term on Wednesday, and I’m heading home in a week’s time. Okay, so I have three supervisions still to get through (and work to do for two of them), and I’m helping with interviews next week, so it’s not like I’ve got nothing to do, but things are slightly more chilled out now. This won’t be a long post because my wrist problems have…

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Afternoon Naps And Essay Crises

Afternoon Naps And Essay Crises

Sometimes it occurs to me how much more I’d be able to get done if I didn’t spend quite so much of my time asleep. Take yesterday, for example — despite having set an alarm, I found myself waking up at 4pm, thoroughly confused and on the brink of panicking about how much work I had to do. With two essays to get done this weekend, I couldn’t really afford the ridiculous lie-in… but it happened anyway. And then I…

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Back To The Bridge

Back To The Bridge

I came back to Cambridge today. Back to an absurdly enormous room with far too many chairs. Back to Eduroam WiFi that, amazingly, is a lot better than the WIFi in my house. Back to friends dropping in on my room without warning, back to readymeals cooked in the microwave and eaten out of the plastic tub. Back to trying to find homes for things that really don’t have them. Back to work. Back to dance and ceilidh band and…

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Breaking In My Boots

Breaking In My Boots

For a long time, I wanted a pair of Doc Martens. (Let’s just clarify this. They say Dr Martens on the label. Nobody ever calls them that. Personally, I call them DMs. So, for the purposes of this post, I’m going to refer to them by their initials.) I wanted them because several of my favourite TV characters wore big clumpy boots with dresses and leather jackets, and I wanted them because a book character I liked had a scuffed…

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Of Giant Furniture And Stubborn Printers

Of Giant Furniture And Stubborn Printers

I’m sure you’ll be delighted to know that I’m not only alive, but settling in to my life at uni. And by “settling in” I mean desperately rushing around from place to place, feeling somewhat like a headless chicken, and trying frantically to keep on top of all the many appointments with innumerably people that I have to get to in the next 24 hours. It’s stressing me out. I’m praying the term isn’t like this. (I’m sure it won’t…

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