‘The Bubble’

June 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

So after a month of interning in the Admissions department, it’s almost time to hand in my final report on social media and go home. The past few weeks have whizzed by; so fast that I can hardly believe it’s 26th June. Where has the time gone? 

Well, the time has gone on 9 ’till 5, moving into a flat by myself, watching films, baking questionable yet delicious cakes (b-cubed cake: bacon, beer, beetroot – seriously, it is gooood!), drinking wine, going for walks, having fun. And then there was lots of saying goodbye, which was a lot less fun. It was Graduation Week last week. Quite a number of my close friends graduated and have now returned home, ready to begin a life away from this safe place. Quite a number of people who have been part of my life, big and small, have now left this life to start another one. It feels strange to think that next year won’t be filled with their daily presence. Yet, it is exciting to consider the new faces that will feature. 

All of the goodbyes have led me to think about my time at university. I have one year left. One year! When did I turn 21? When did I become a fourth year? One of my old tutors (well, he’s actually rather young and handsome, but he taught us in second year so, old in the sense that he is a former-tutor of mine), Dr Chris Jones, gave a wonderful Graduation address on the first day of Graduation week. He said, “Many of you will remember in your first year knowing an apparently worldly wise, mature fourth-year student who seemed to own this town, to know everyone in it, and how everything works around here.” That resonated with me so much! On Sunday, Pete reminded me of the party at Michael’s flat (who has now graduated and is off to Georgia, US, in August) in our first year. That sentence by Chris Jones made me think of that night, too. I don’t even know why. Perhaps it’s because we were all silly, immature Freshers, who have suddenly grown up to become those apparently ‘worldly wise, mature fourth-year students’. It made me think of that journey (I’m trying not to be too sensational or sentimental about this), from first to fourth year, from then to now. When did we grow up? When did we become those fourth years? 

The rest of Chris’ speech was just as moving. He perfectly summed up this tiny town. He told the graduates, “You’re about to leave this charmed existence in what you call ‘The Bubble’, a miniature world in which together you’ve put on plays, made music, competed at sports, organised film festivals and fashion shows, broken bread together, made bonfires on the beach in the long summer evenings, and even ran into the North Sea at four in the morning on the first of May. And now people are telling you that you have to leave The Bubble behind, to go into the big wide world, to get ‘a real job’, and to work for ‘the man’. You’re like Adam and Eve at the end of Paradise Lost being expelled from Eden. And after Graduation Ball, when you pass under the arch of St Salvator’s, perhaps for the last time, you’ll read in a light projection: ‘The Bubble misses you already’. And some of you will undoubtedly cry.”

I used to hate that term, ‘The Bubble’. But now, more and more, I realise how apt it is. This place, so safe and secluded, yet so claustrophobic and solitary at times, is a bubble. And this past week has shown me that I will miss it more than I ever could have known. And that I am incredibly, incredibly lucky to be here. 

Having said that, I can’t wait to go home on Saturday. Highlights include: haircut; lunch with mum; dinner party for friends (so posh eh!); Bard in the Botanics (okay, I’m sounding like an old lady here…); NIGHTS OUT (retrieving my street cred); sleep; dog-hugs; mum-hugs; more sleep. 


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