What your Innovative Learning Week says about you
It’s that time of year again
Innovative Learning Week, AKA “do fuck-all week”. We all cherish this mid-semester break that’s over all too quickly, but how you spend it says a lot about you, so just how “innovative” was your week?
You’re one of the lucky ones. A week away from the JMCC or the pot-noodles and Sainsbury’s cookies you’ve been calling a balanced diet since January, to the comforts of your home and mummy’s food. You always go on about how GREAT Yorkshire is and how you just CAN’T WAIT to get back, but soon you’re back to the monotonous life of your schooldays, except the one night club in your town has closed down, and why isn’t anyone is spoons? Everyone goes to spoons, right? Where else are we meant to reminisce about that time at Leeds fest? Turns out you’re not as innovative as you first thought.
Do you even off-piste? Everyone knows Edinburgh’s fucking cold, but it may at least be bearable if it ever actually snowed so you could strap your skiis on and head down Arthur’s seat. Luckily Daddy knows the struggle, and has booked you on the first flight to Val d’Isere. You’re edgy as fuck in your retro ski-suit. Technicolor has never been so chic – not so great on the slopes though as you throw up your croque monsieur after a heavy après at the folie douce.
Good job your parent’s bank account is so innovative.
Your new years resolution to get fit never got going, but now you have a week to get in shape. You plan to go everyday. You don’t. Your usual gym buddy Nick is away in the lake-district for his mum’s 50th and you cave after one pitiful 20 minute attempt on the treadmill while watching prime minister’s questions (why is the choice of TV so shit?).
In your mind you were going to be innovative. In practice you still posses the cardio of a forty five year old chain smoker.
Whilst your mate Sameron (who is doing some arty kind of degree that requires no work) is having a “wild” time down in Sheffield with his girlfriend, you’re a medic and actually have to go to lectures. It’s 11am and he’s getting ready for his 3rd shag of the day but here you are flicking through endless slides on varicose veins. You stare at the rows of empty seats in the library and think why the fuck you can even be arsed anymore. You wanted this though, right? All the apres-ski you’ve missed has been worth it – its always been your dream to work for Jezza Hunt, hasn’t it? You’ve been committed but you’ve had enough now. Fuck medicine. Fuck innovation.
Why Not, Hive, Hive again, Silk, Cav, Prow. Smashed it. You hit the drink like never before – you make memories you don’t remember. You still don’t know where that gash on your back came from but you had a great night so who gives a fuck. Hangovers are harder to cope with now you’re in 3rd year – the spew is coming and Zenobia didn’t make Chicken Shawarmas to taste good on the way back up.
Bed is home now and it looks like next week will have to be an innovative one too.