Fear And Self-Loathing In Las Cambridge

Once a year, something very strange happens in Cambridge.

Cambridge. Hallowed centre for intellectual development. Home to some of the world's most serious and diligent scientific minds. Birthplace of discoveries and developments that change the way humanity views life, the world, and itself.

And yet, once a year in this place, all the effort, all the stress and toil, all the blood, sweat and tears of the entire year come boiling to the surface in one short rush.

And people start to go a little crazy.

Every year scores of Cambridge students, leaders of tomorrow, example students and first-class successes, will make a mass exodus to such landmarks as the Bridge of Sighs and the Mathematical Bridge, pause slightly, allowing the tourists to get their cameras up, take a lucky swig from the bottle in their hands, and voluntarily throw themselves off the bridge into the waters of the River Cam.

Ah yes, May Week in Cambridge.

On the other side of the University, a different sort of madness is taking place. Centred mostly around Senate House, this sort of madness involves crowds of students with fearful glances staring at notice boards, gabbing excitedly into phones, yelling and screaming and hugging bewildered Japanese tourists at random, or breaking down into sobs and beating up themselves/their friends/proctors standing unfortunately nearby/bewildered Japanese tourists.

Yes, it's exam result season in Cambridge.

I, unfortunately, have not done nearly as well as I should have. Whilst it's not end-of-the-world bad, it's bad enough to warrant a short hiatus from blogging. Posts will be slow, and whilst I'm sure no one's going to miss me, I just thought I'd pop a note to make sure no one thought I was sitting in my room being emo and sobbing my eyes out over Dr Burke not being on Grey's Anatomy anymore. Angry medics don't cry! Angry medics don't have tear ducts!

*loud wail "WHY, DR BURKE, WHY?!" in background*

Uhm. That wasn't me.