16 April 2015
As Shakespeare once said: ‘Love goes to love as a schoolboy from his books, but love from love, towards school with heavy looks’ – and indeed, towards school with heavy looks was what I was doing the last week of last term. All the tiresome business of looking after one’s own life, doing one’s own dishes, laundering one’s own clothes, running back and forth to uni once or twice a day and all the trials that come with actually having to learn stuff. By the time the Easter hols loomed I was about ready to drop. One last push of energy got me onto the train home, a long train home.And then you blink, and the holidays are over, two weeks of waiting for the sun to burn through the northern sea mists (three days of solid fog!) only to have your one day of sunbathing interrupted by one of the merry sparrows in our hedge, pooping on my tanning legs. All the things we’d planned on doing whiled away on Netflix box-sets, instead of study or anything else remotely productive. And, all the while, the days tick by and the prospect of returning to our establishment grows larger and larger in our minds. But now we’re back! The sun is out, and with the right shoes even the commute to uni doesn’t seem as far at the moment (though I still want to throw a bucket of ice water over anyone walking in front of me, blowing smoke fumes back in my face).