End of First Year
My last exam of my first year of university was on the 16th of May and I was due to have my summer ball on the 3rd of June. During exam season, we have no scheduled lectures or seminars. Instead, we just do revision for any upcoming exams we might have and we sit the exams when we need to. As I’ve mentioned previously, for students taking history at Durham University, their exams take place online which is something that they’ve continued from Covid times. The lecturers release a set of exam questions and you have to pick two to answer. They said that they expected us to complete two essays in two hours but the assignment was technically open for submission for 24 hours. I wouldn’t say that I was stringent with the time as I did try to make the most of this somewhat laid back system of examination. However, I thought that their expectation was still reasonable so I tried not to make it too lengthy a process. To be honest, whilst I wouldn’t say that I was having the time of my life writing these essays, I was making the online system work in some respects. Except for my penultimate exam for my module on the history of the Atlantic Archipelago. I picked a question that I thought would be easy to answer and I found myself getting humbled very quickly. I started writing the essay in a very happy and confident manner and I found myself crying on the phone to my parents a couple hours later. It was a question on gender and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was tired or if there were genuinely not enough points of discussion but I couldn’t think of enough examples to pad out my essay. In the end, I cobbled together an essay that was certainly not my best work but carried me through for the module nonetheless. However, that night I slept like crap as students on the floor above me ran excitedly across their bedroom floors and I stewed sleepily on the “shittiness” of my essay. I actually had my final exam the next day and I do not know how I got through it on such little sleep. I stared blankly at my computer screen typing furiously until I could see that two essays had been written. When it was finally finished, I felt a wave of relief overcome me.
Soon I found myself loading my heavy suitcase onto the train back to Cambridge. I tried to pretend like I wasn’t breaking a sweat in doing so but it was obvious to many that I was struggling. The train was so busy that I had to place my suitcase onto one of the shelves above the seats because the suitcase rack was already full. As I’m sure you can probably predict, as I was physically incapable of walking my suitcase onto the train, I was certainly incapable of physically lifting it onto the shelf above the seats. The man sitting down saw me struggling and offered to lift it for me. I warned him that it was quite heavy but he seemed to lift it up easier than I did. Thankful for the help, I walked over to my reserved seat and listened to a podcast for the 2 hour journey back to Peterborough. When I arrived at the station, I couldn’t quite reach my suitcase as there was a queue of people in front of me waiting to leave the train. I asked the man again if he could help me get it down and he responded with “Oh not that heavy suitcase!”
I decided to return to Cambridge for a couple of weeks before my summer ball. I tried to make the most of the May half term holidays by working some shifts at Scudamore’s. However, I also spent some time with family by going out, watching films and baking cakes. I baked a really nice carrot cake that I iced with a cream cheese buttercream. In the cake batter, I used a bit of demerara sugar but my mum had the fantastic idea of putting a tablespoon of treacle in as well. In the end, the cake tasted like toffee and made for the perfect dessert after dinner with the cream cheese buttercream too. I’ve understood over time that you can tell when food is good when everyone around the table is silent. Growing up, I was fortunate to eat at the table regularly with my family and during those times, I would often have all sorts of conversations about life with my parents and my sister. However, when we were eating that carrot cake a silence fell across the room and I think that you could tell then that we were really enjoying our dessert. The only thing I said was “I think I shall make that cake again!”
After a couple of weeks at home, I returned to Durham for a few days for the summer ball and to empty out my room. On the Saturday evening when I returned to Durham, I went on a bar crawl to celebrate my friends’ birthdays. In Durham there are colleges that are on the hill and colleges that are on the bailey. Since St Cuthbert’s Society is a bailey college next to the cathedral, me and my friends thought that it would be nice to do a bar crawl of the colleges on the hill and it was a lot of fun. However, on the Monday I went to the summer ball. I resurrected the yellow dress that I got from Seville and the silver shoes that I bought a few years ago from my closet. I reapplied my liquid eyeliner and changed my hair fifty times until finally, I felt it was acceptable for me to step out of the door.
I attended the summer ball with my housemates for next year. We took an Uber to Josephine Butler College and then a coach to the venue. The venue was a hotel called Hardwick Hall and when we walked in there were nicely decorated tables and chairs set up for the evening dinner as well as a dance floor with a stage for the bands to play. Outside there was also a pond where we took some photos as well as theme park rides.
There were lots of happy memories that I now have from the summer ball. I found out that most of my housemates were more daring than me when it came to the rides but I noticed that one of my housemates was not as keen to try out the rides as the others were. Being of the same nature, I decided to buddy up with him on some of the rides to make it more fun. If you follow me on Instagram, you may have seen the video that I posted on my story of me and my housemate doing the bumper cars together and every time I re-watch the video I always laugh so much. Our car kept going backwards and despite our efforts, you could tell that we really didn’t have that much control which was funny. You could tell that we were two old people when it came to rides because we were quite happy to stop there. However, after the bumper cars my housemates started to gravitate to another ride. I don’t know the name of the ride that we were on but it consisted of swings that were attached to masts which spun around like a carousel and gradually increased in height as the ride continued. Me and my housemate sat on one of the swings and the man that controlled the ride came over to lower the safety bar in front of us. I say it’s a safety bar but I swear we could still slip through the gap if we were not careful. On the first rotation of the ride I heard my housemate say “Okay, this isn’t too bad” and I agreed that it was actually quite pleasant. When the ride went round again, we both remarked how the experience was much better than we thought it would be. On the third rotation, I felt my housemate’s hand lift up slowly beside me and without much thought, I decided to take hold of it. Then I heard him say, “I’m really starting not to like this” and I agreed that it was starting to get scary. At peak point in the ride, I felt my housemate’s hand tighten desperately around mine. We were not sure when the ride was going to end and we closed our eyes, bearing the worst of the experience. Eventually, we felt it slow down and the carousel lower slightly. As the ride gradually grounded to a halt, I felt my housemate’s hand loosen slightly around mine and the wrinkles on my face begin to relax. When we got off the ride, my housemate said “Thank you so much for holding my hand. That was so scary!” I must admit, I was scared too. Although, if you had the chance to see the ride for itself, you’d probably never understand our fear.
The rest of the summer ball I will probably keep for personal memories. However, I will say that there was one ride that I attempted with some of my other housemates which was by far the scariest on offer. It was a pendulum ride that swung people high into the air for a period of about 5 minutes. Whilst everyone was screaming and laughing enjoying this exhilarating experience, I was grimacing the entire way wondering when it was going to end. If I thought the carousel was scary, on this ride, I was really grasping onto my friends’ hands thinking I was going to die. When it ended, I was glad to still be alive. When we got off the ride, my housemates said “Ahh that was great! Shall we try the Waltzer now?” In my head I was like “No thank you” and I quickly walked off.
On Tuesday, I went out for brunch at the Riverside Café with two of my flatmates for first year. We had tried to organise a night out before I left but none of us were available and I was leaving on Wednesday. Instead, we decided to have pancakes at the café and reflect on how the first year went. We talked about some things and laughed and joked about others. When we returned to the flat that afternoon, we unlocked our doors in unison and said to each other “Guys, that was such a great night out!” and the doors slammed behind us.
Going to sleep in my room for the last time was definitely a surreal experience. It was only six months ago that I first moved in and I remember that day being really hard. My parents dropped me off and I remember looking out of the window, watching my parents walk away. Now that I reflect on it, I realise that I was probably being quite dramatic. As I was unpacking everything from my suitcase and cardboard boxes, I was crying as I suddenly felt the distance from home. I looked around my room and everything felt very foreign and new. For a few nights afterwards, I would dream about being in my own bed and it was only after I woke up that I realised that I was somewhere new. Yet, as I got ready for bed on that final night, I felt sad to leave. It was then that I realised that although new things can be scary sometimes, human beings are very adaptable and we soon get used to our surroundings. It is in hindsight that I realise that I’ve been through a lot of moments in that small room. I’ve been through tough moments, crying on the phone to my parents about essays and deadlines. I’ve also been through good moments, telling my parents about some of my grades and articles that I’ve been able to publish in the student newspaper. As such, on that final night in my first year accommodation, it was no wonder that I felt nostalgic. It is my understanding that these feelings mean that I’ve had a good first year, despite the ups and downs.
The next day, my parents came to pick me up. I loaded my things into the car and said goodbye to the cleaners who have been with me for the past year. Then, I walked to the reception and dropped off my keys.
The next time I return to Durham, will be for my second year! Second year here we come!
How did your first year go? How have you found the change? Let me know in the comments below and I’ll be sure to reply to them. I love hearing what you have to say!
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See you next week,
Bye,
XOX, Juliette