Review: Cambridge Types

The fifth week blues are a thing of the past; Boots have got their Christmas stock out, which means that my first term of Cambridge must be nearly over…Nostalgia already overwhelms me as I think about the various types of student I’ve met during Michaelmas.  Indeed, beneath this simpering exterior lies a furtive analyser of life’s rich tapestry of characters. Cambridge is not immune to such evaluation. I’ve thus far been privy to meet many a type in this institution, and this ‘review’ is but an opportunity to wax lyrical on 3 of my favourites…

“I’ll pencil you in…”
Nothing is more annoying to the eternally average than someone who is disgustingly involved. By now their regimented plan to be an Oscar nominated thespian, the next Python member and Prime Minister is well underway. They’re on the college committee, keep their physique honed with prowess on the University teams and spend the remainder of their time ‘networking’. Call it what you will; envy, prejudice or inverted snobbery, but these people irritate me to the point of occasionally having homicidal thoughts. They’re like the perfect girl at school; these guys swan in, swishing their glossy mane and flashing their pearly white teeth.  Their manner of speech could only be described as lyrical, as they present some love struck teacher with reams of calligraphic coherence. Super involved people are my bête noire. They pirouette from meeting to meeting, health and energy resplendent as they gaze caringly into your haggard visage. What can be said though is that they do unite us bitching wannabe cynics into a clan of our own, after all, time must be passed in some way.

“What do you mean you’re not going to Cindies???”
These guys should form the moral backbone to our society. Their ability to do without acceptable conditions astounds me and their willingness to compromise inspires me to be a better person. I long to be so easily satisfied; that the prospect of a double dose of Cindies and the possibility of grinding with my fellow nerd would be enough to keep me going. Life would be a whole lot easier if I was part of the “let’s partay!” crew…the beckoning, sweaty warmth of Cambridge’s clubs enough to get me over life’s hurdles. If I were so pure a person, I’d get my glad rags on and boogie on downtown myself.

“Insert your own heading; I’m too busy being aloof.”
The too cool for school clan are without doubt my favourite clique…perhaps due to their sheer inaccessibility? A gathering of the cool exists in every institution, and I love it that one of the nerdiest places on the planet still has its token cluster of cigarette toting, fashionably dishevelled students. They’re all existential angst as they lean nonchalantly against the wall outside King’s, bitching about life and discussing how great they are. They actually make me snort with laughter, as they swagger about aloofly, rolling their eyes with eternal boredom. However, they will never be cool. They have now been contaminated by the geek brigade; are surrounded by a stronghold of simultaneous equation solving fiends. They should stop fighting. They are one of them now.