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It’s C-Sunday, so go get drunk

You owe it to yourself

Whipped cream, 'shocked families', drinking societies and burning sheep.

If you've somehow prematurely aged thirty years and for some reason read The Daily Mail, that's what Caesarian Sunday will mean to you. Posh Cambridge twats engaging in lurid behaviour in a very very public place, all captured by desperate freelance photographers exploiting all the worst stereotypes of the university for a neat pay cheque from every tabloid in the country. As StatVeritas7 of the Mail's comment section puts it "This is disgusting behavior!! I understand young people want o [sic] have fun but this is debauchery!! What do people get out of acting like wild animals I don't know, but I think it is embarrassing behavior and it show how decadent we have become in our modern society."

Thankfully if you're reading this, you are no Mail reader. You're an enlightened Tabite (or Tabist?), who knows that the only way to get the truth is to indulge this jaded third year by reading his column. And truth you will get…So what is C-Sunday, what does it mean and most importantly, should you do it?


C-Sunday, at it's absolute core, is an excuse to finally take advantage of the good weather and take part in the greatest activity this country has to offer: drinking in a park. Forget the red chinos, forget the camera men and absolutely forget burning sheep boy, C-Sunday is about ordinary students having a good time. It is an absolutely necessary part of this term, usually so deprived of anything resembling fun (beyond weekly 5-a-side). It represents a beautiful release of human energy held back by the obscene levels of discipline Easter requires, and without it, on all levels, we would be worse off.

At our worst, Cambridge students are a neurotic bunch. We regret lost minutes of revision like Nick Clegg regrets forming the coalition. At this time of year, we talk about nothing but dissertation deadlines, library hours and just how far away those daunting exams are. We sadistically mount pressure and anxiety on both ourselves and those around us, seemingly without thinking. Just how many hours are the other NatScis putting in? What time is everyone hitting the library? Why can't I remember the notes I rewrote for the umpteenth time? Seemingly, nothing make us feel worse than our own subconscious. A big part of surviving this term is taming your own insecurities, and trust me, there's no better way to do it than schlepping it to Jesus Green with a big bag of lagers.

The beauty of C-Sunday is it acts as something of a revision armistice. Most of the university agrees to put the books down for a day, and so, surrounded by most of your friends, you can rest easy, knowing that the guy who asks questions in lectures isn't putting more academic space between you. Comparative anxiety fades away, admittedly helped by booze. I spent most of my last column talking about the great mind clouding effects of alcohol, and its wonderful powers as a miracle cure for a nagging conscious. Some took it as a cry for help (it wasn't), while others realised the celebratory components of it. In Michaelmas and Lent, boozing provides much needed ying to the absolute yang that is a Cambridge degree. Sadly, Easter doesn't involve much ying. Till May Week, C-Sunday is all you get.

The scientist in me still wants to ask questions like: what is the relationship between hours revised and tripos performance. The most studious of you would like to think linear – the more in, the more out. I happen to think it's at best diminishing returns. If you revised for six months, would you really be much better prepared than after a four week library stint? There's something to be said for revising too much. After a while, the physical and mental degradation takes it's toll. I have seen it happen far too many times: burnouts and breakdowns after too much work and far too little play.

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The good vibes

In a sense C-Sunday could save your term. You may doubt this, after all, how can a day spent killing brain cells be good for your grades? But when you're deep in the revision bin, nothing quite resets your mental state like a bender in the sun (and no, colouring books and welfare puppies don't even come close).

So get down to the green, have a beer and take some time out for your own sake. Let the Drinking Soc boys be the entertainment, say hi to a copper, and just keep going.

If you're a fresher, asking just how fun it can really be, then take my testimony. It is good. Fucking good.