‘Returners’, what a bloody let down that has been. Okay perhaps that is a tad rash, but coming back for the second year has been controversial; expectation versus reality has… Well let’s just say it’s been interesting.
I knew it would be nothing like the first year, it’s just I really cannot put my finger on what I’m feeling. Other than illness, and the cold. There’s always that pre-term hype (or anxiety) surging around on the social networks or between friends and it generally contributes to some sort of unexpected realisation. But mine has been awfully distant, apathetic, so-so. It’s nothing amazing but at the same time it’s nothing to cry about. You see I am not a fan of the ‘wishy-washy’, but so far living by myself again has surmised nothing but the latter.
When it comes to the new house itself I am content, but nothing more. It’s location is ideal, but I am typing this post from the comfort of an open access centre. That’s all I’ll say on that. It’s getting very cold here, very cold and very rainy. Now usually that wouldn’t be a problem with me, after all it’s what I call ‘writing weather’. But I am still so distracted, I still feel unable to adjust within this familiarly dreary environment. Also, the nights are drawing in, it is safe to say that Autumn is upon us.
Oh Autumn, my favourite season of all. Perhaps it’s the swan-song colours in the trees and the sky, or sharp bite in the air whilst the sun is still in one’s face. Maybe it is partly down to the change in people, as they visibly turn inwards. We grow more sequestered within our thoughts, as we live in the calm before the storm, with winter on the horizon. It’s a season of maturity and underappreciated change, subtle in its approach yet vivid at its peak. I think I romanticise too much. Realistically, when am I ever going to experience such a season when it is so hopelessly envisioned and sculpted by my imagination?
Because of course I was not provided the season I had hoped for. Instead I must face the drizzly, sub-temperate grey. All the good bits have been taken out and replaced with… Coventry. Fantastic. And I just realised, I have ‘Freshers Flu’. I’m not even a Fresher anymore! Speaking of the devils, perhaps I have grown to be a bitter introvert but I really cannot stand them. I had a hard time dealing with them when I was one, but now there is a year of experience between us they feel like a different species. Yesterday a friend and I were walking home from a rather uneventful reunion with friends when we realised the loathsome ‘pub crawl’ week had started. What we saw next could only be described as a potential Daily Mail field-day in the making, the drunken hysterics that could be heard from miles away… Well I’d initially mistaken it for the apocalypse.
Okay maybe that was an exaggeration, but it strikes me that nothing has changed: This new wave of meat for the grinder should represent the generations that will suffer the most from the insane Uni Fees explosion (courtesy of Mr Cameron and Clegg). You’d think that people from here on out would value education more than ever, but it is the same crowd, the same vibes. Despite the crippling blow that was supposedly dealt to the future of students, the average fresher is still a boozer. I would like to point out right about now (before the hate commences) that I have seen this myself and can say these things almost categorically, I am not a right-wing toff that eats up what the papers tell me, I am going by what I know (having been in the midst of it all). It’s sad but true. Obviously I am not speaking for all students, I’m just talking about the tools that waste their degree time waltzing up and down a street near you at three in the morning, verbalising incoherence or chanting like a spartan.
So the joys of returning have been anticlimatic, I know that my melancholy (or grumpiness) has clouded my entire outlook, but I also know that it won’t last. In a week’s time my lectures for the second year will commence and from that point on I won’t have the time nor the interest to consider my tertiary surroundings. It’s just the wait that is killing me. God, the idleness…
At least I’m back to blogging again.
(I need a new can-opener…)