Cantabrigian Dreaming

It’s been a bit of an odd week for me. A while ago, I elected to return once more to Cambridge, booking a couple of weeks’ holiday from work in the process, for what could well be the last time. My parents are leaving the little village in the middle of nowhere they’ve been inhabiting for the last seven years and even my most Cantabrigian friends are scattering to the four winds. It will not be long before I have no reason to return to Cambridge. For me and many of my old school friends, this has been the final year of university. Now the real world looms and we have to consider for the first time how the hell we’re going to eat without government handouts. For that matter, how the hell are we going to give the government the money they’ve loaned us back? Some of us have moved back to parental homes for a new springboard into the world, some of us have chosen to stay in our university towns and use the momentum we’ve got. Cambridge is rapidly becoming another meaningless tourist city for me.

Originally my plan was to spend the week chilling in an English country garden chez parents, but this started to unravel pretty rapidly when it turned out that nobody could make it to the gatherings I’d planned in town (plus ça change…) and I started to-ing and fro-ing from the sticks to the city on a daily basis to see people individually. And do you know what? I think I preferred it this way. Given that I haven’t seen certain parties face-to-face in over three years, it’s been easier to remake acquaintances without the buzz and distractions of many people.

The fact that I haven’t seen some of my old school friends in a couple of years has made the whole experience kind of surreal. You can see the ways some people have changed, yet some people seem to have changed very little. It doesn’t help that I spent a lot of time in sixth form mentally cut-off from the world in a state of depression; I think I’ve got to know one or two people better in the last couple of days than I did over the two years I originally knew them. I’m glad I had the opportunity to see everybody.

And I’m damned if I’m going to lose touch for years like this again. My parents always seemed to let people drift out of their lives and sometimes just forgot to make time to keep in touch. It’s always made me worry that I’ll do the same and that danger seems all the greater now that some of my friends are leaving the country (…was it something I said?). I think this week has helped me prove to myself that it’s possible to hold on over great distances – in space and time. Let’s just hope I’ve learned the lesson properly, eh?


~ by Scary Rob on 16 July, 2007.

2 Responses to “Cantabrigian Dreaming”

  1. Keeping in touch is hard work though !!

  2. But, as I have been discovering over the past few years, sooooo worth it ; )

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