Tab tries: going out every day of the week

I've spent a week with twelve hours of sleep in total: naps in the library, essays completed semi-intoxicated after a night out. It's been a week I would NEVER repeat again.

While procrastinating (as per) in the library, a grand idea came to me. What would it be like to go out 7 nights in a row in Cambridge? Would I still meet all my deadlines? Would I survive? Or is it merely an impossible task? Life as a Cambridge student is already overwhelming without being hungover or asleep in every single lecture, yet do we place too much stress on ourselves meaninglessly?

Our tale begins on a fateful Thursday night…

Wearing glitter, not a quitter

Thursday arrived, I'd just handed in my weekly essay only for a petite window of bliss to open before I received the new one on Friday. We all know what this FREEDOM (for 12 hours, *how generous*) means. It's time to dash to Sainsbury's to buy their cheapest vodka and hit up Lola's to kick off this experiment.

Quickest way to Girton?

The most important thing I learnt is don't go out on Thursday until 4am if you have a 9am + a supervision on Friday. That cycle ride from Girton to Sidgewick after three hours of sleep and semi-intoxication was almost as bad as how my supervision went. (Although I was a bit smug that I made a lecture that I usually sleep through even when I don't go out – Shots, shots, shots, everybody – and by that I mean espresso shots…)

Although it is hard to work with a hangover, by taking a few naps throughout the day, I managed to finish all my primary reading before joining the notorious queue to Life. If my tactics had been on point I would've brought my books because 2 hours is a lot of time to waste in that insufferable line.

Highlight of the night: Van of Life

By the fourth night, I'd studied enough of "clubbing" to predict all the songs of the night. Despacito, despacito, despa-please play a different song for once.

Monday night, I had been driven into a slight state of panic as my essay deadline loomed, yet I had come too far down this road of "social experimentation" to turn back.

The desolation that is Monday night

By Tuesday, I hadn't been to a single lecture since Friday, and was suffering a severe essay crisis (cry-sis?) between reading and naps in the library. By Wednesday evening, I could not have been further from done, with a total of zero words for my essay due in 4 hours. Yet, what could I do? It was time to truly focus and hit Cindies.

Summary of my week

Then suddenly, at 2am, on the dancefloor, I had a revelation. My essay dawned on me with a sudden sense of 'Eureka!'.

It felt very strange sitting down to punch out my essay at 2am – but how could I not when I had had such a glorious revelation? What was even stranger was rereading my so called 'revelation' the next morning: that Julian of Norwich was 'sexually attracted' to Jesus. Many artists had their best insights come to them in a state of intoxication – I now accept that I will never be one of them.

FINAL NIGHT

It did end with a bang indeed, or should I say a bang-bang-bang down the stairs of Lola's and a disfigured ankle. I was only slightly embarrassed going into my supervision hopping on one foot.

Compression bandage matches the outfit

The grand total: 28 hours spent in clubs, 2 hours in lectures, 10 hours reading, 1 damaged ankle, 4 hours of writing and a caffeine surplus to get through it.

My conclusive result? I would rather break my other leg than do this again. My depleted bank account agrees.

Nevertheless, this "experiment" proved to be successful as I managed to hand in an essay, which was returned with a thumbs up.

Getting a balance between work and play in Cambridge is certainly possible. It's so easy to just live in the library and forget that we're literally at the peak of youth. So leave the work guilt and the example sheet for a few hours: you're here and you deserve to have the best of both. If I can't convince you, maybe some Van of Life cheesy chips can?