How to enjoy a Sunday night out in Cambridge
It can be done
Cambridge nightlife has often been acknowledged as being all kinds of wrong. Similarly, for the general populace, going out on a Sunday is all kinds of wrong. However, I am here to prove that two wrongs can make a right. The combination of Cambridge and Sunday night CAN be a great one, given you adhere to some simple rules.
I don’t care what people tell you, sober clubbing quite literally defines shit. I know because I have tried it. Be aware, I do not consider myself a ‘big drinker’ and I am quite the advocate of the premonition ‘you don’t need to be drunk to have a good time!’.
However. In our little crucible of Cambridge there is little that can be done. I don’t care what it is, a bottle of paint-stripper disguised as wine, Sainsbury’s basics vodka or a bloody Smirnoff ice, just get it down ya, and pronto.
There is reasoning behind my daring promotion of binge drinking. Even when drunk, you can tell that Life really wears its own brand of cologne. I don’t need to tell you that. When sober, this stagnating scent is remarkably worse. It punches you in the face and leaves you reeling for hours. Intoxication is the only answer, trust me.
That’s it really. Sorry.
Populate the corridor
The DJ in Life has an ‘eclectic’ music taste and the packed dance floor is often less than appealing. I strongly suggest you avoid the smell, sweat and £5 entry fee by instead spend your night in the infamous and aptly named ‘Kuda corridor’: the social hub of Cambridge town centre.
Ring of fire and spoof have no place in Cambridge.
We have a far superior alternative. Instead, I propose you pay a tenner to consume very average food in a room half filled with strangers, and fine or penny one another until you are so drunk you can no longer see.
Arriving at Life in a large group (including said strangers) is beneficial; you are simply reducing your chances of losing them all. A lonely life is just not a fun life (take from that what you will, pun or otherwise). The classic circuit of the lone wolf – across the dance floor, up the stairs, through the smoking-area, down the stairs – is a well-trodden path. At least you are now eligible to overly-enthusiastically approach the partial stranger who you are almost sure was sat opposite you in sesame.
Turn off your alarm.
Don’t attempt anything until after lunch.
Leave on a high
We have all been there. The dance floor slowly empties, the corridor becomes a ghost town and the music becomes progressively more tragic. The end of the night is nigh. It’s time to leave. There is just no excuse or need for you to be one of those final few people busting your moves.
An important part of the skill in perfecting a Sunday night is to know when it’s over. Besides, we all reach a point when only the Van of Life will help.
So there you are. Your very own comprehensive guide to enjoying a Sunday night. Despite the imperative nature of this article, fun Sundays are as we know, easy to achieve. If you correctly strike the somewhat delicate balance of inebriation, with your pals around you and Ariana Grande blasting, some of the best memories can be created.
Sunday nights out and enjoying such a pungent club is simply part of the Cambridge phenomena. It’s a tradition we know only too well. It’s time to forget the existence of essays, lectures and quite frankly your degree altogether, Sunday nights are an essential part of your conditioning as a Cantab.
I know that I for one wouldn’t change a thing.