Tabony Aunt: Issue the First
Think you’ve got problems?
Tabatha the Tabulous Tabony Aunt talks through your Lent term blues.
Dear Taboney Aunt
I was really into theatre before I came to Cambridge. Since getting here, I’ve been rejected from almost everything I’ve auditioned for (apart from Village Boy Number Four in the College Panto). I don’t want to be a professional or anything, but I would love to be able to perform and get more involved in theatre. Any advice for what to do?
Dear Villager 4,
It could always be worse.
On one hand you could be Villager 5 (no disrespect to Villager 5), or, as I was in a panto once upon a time, a tree who gets apples thrown at them – but at least I wasn’t the apple eh?
It’s like how a 2;1 at Cambridge is better than a 1st anywhere else – how many of your mates at home could say they did some theatre at the place Steven Fry went? My point exactly; need I remind you that you are at the best University in the UK?
I don’t want to sound drab, but just keep auditioning and eventually you will catch a break. It may only be Villager number 3 next time, but it’s all about getting in and gradually working your way up the ladder. You have to remember that at Cambridge everyone is pretty marvellous, and you’re not going to always have your way as perhaps you may have been used to before you came here.
Keep going, keep smiling and soon you will be the Mayor!
Dear The Tab
I am a young female studying MML and, like your illustrious editor, would like to ‘screw my supervisor’. Hard.
A young man; bestubbled with distinguished cheekbones, he had me from the first words he uttered, which were in French. We talk for hours (in French. He teaches me French), about everything, from kissing to global warming to making love on a Parisian veranda.
So what do I do? Do I follow my heart or not? Either way, I have another 7 weeks of one-on-one supervisions with this man. I think I’ll explode into a ball of womanly passion.
Honestly, there are 7000 thousand languages in the world; surely you could have made a better choice? As the sexiest accents go, Italian beats it fair and square.
Even look at it in terms of food (the best way to anyone’s heart); the French have exploited the well-deserved French Fry, turned bread into the shape of a giant penis and degraded the notion that all cheese is good cheese*. As for the Italians, need I say more than ‘Lasagne’?
Saying that, the French have contributed the much-loved croissants and humble brioche, so perhaps your desires have some grounding.
Along that line, they did say one thing useful ‘je ne regrette rein’ – simply put, if you don’t ‘screw your supervisor’ and release your ball of womanly passion, would you be filled with regret for the remainder of your life? I can’t say go and fuck your supervisor, but if it’s going to impact you in the long term…hey, life’s too short for regret.
Finally; girl – get a grip! You are not a Disney princess and ‘following your heart’ doesn’t cut it anymore. Follow your head; your head got you to Cambridge in the first place, so if it wants a night of erotic supervision sex as a reward, listen to it!
Love and hugs,
Hey Tabony Aunt,
Since coming to Cambridge, I’ve gained a dreaded 2 stone of fresher’s flab. This is mostly from way too much free wine and a few too many trips to the Van of Life. I want to try and cut back, especially on the drinking, but I don’t want to miss out on socialising and alcohol seems to be involved in everything.
I’ll be damned if I go to Cindies half-sober. I’m a Natsci so it’s hard to work exercise into my schedule, plus the college gym is very male dominated so it’s a bit intimidating. Any advice for steps I can take to start losing weight?
A Fresher (+ a bit extra)
Isn’t it all about that base?
My advice it to go out, and just shake your ass a bit more and maybe the pounds will come flying off. If they don’t; who cares?
All I’m saying about the gym saga; don’t. Too much effort, sweat and not enough donuts.
At University, it doesn’t really matter if you’ve got some junk in your trunk. Do you really think Watson and Crick came up with the whole DNA thing over granola bars and Guava juice?
Exactly! No good conversation was started over a salad, so drink up, eat pies, don’t exercise and come up with a new, even better fantastic theory of everything.
Love and biscuits,