My Semester in ‘The Bubble’

Perhaps a little recklessly, before coming to St Andrews I hadn’t ever actually visited. Enticed by impressive league tables and pretty pictures of East Sands on a clear day, I arrived ready to fulfil the hunter-wellington-clad vision I had of myself. Alas, it’s the end of my first semester, and I still haven’t worn my Hunters for more than two hours because my legs are too short, leading to extensive back-of-knee chafing with the wearing of any shoe taller than an ankle boot.

In reality, since coming to St Andrews, I have done… not very much. For the first few weeks, I eagerly attended a few debates. I sat and watched in awe as students spewed words and facts, cutting each other down with malice in their eyes and followed all this confidence-crushing battling with merry drinks at the Byre. It’s fair to say I was terrified… I imagined myself struck down by the intelligent words of one of these debating pros, and having my lack of in-depth knowledge about Middle-Eastern politics revealed. Clearly, crying in front of the entire debate society, which would have followed, was not an option. So instead, I retreated back to the safety of halls and BBC iPlayer.

I pondered what to do next. I took a look at my rapidly dwindling bank account balance and remembered the money I’d saved before coming here to buy a gym membership. I’d imagined myself jogging to the gym after a full day of lectures… body of a goddess by Christmas. So I went a few times, and felt inadequate a few times. It was kind of embarrassing going purple after 4 minutes and 37 seconds on the cross trainer. So then I thought yoga; maybe I’ll get all zen and even join some political societies. Well, yoga is not so zen when you’re failing at downwards dog next to the tallest, most toned girl with the most shiny hair ever. By this point, I have also run out of conditioner and Tesco is too far to walk when it’s pissing it down with rain. So my hair is not shiny right now, and I look like an infant trying to get my toes in my mouth, not like the svelt yogi I had decided (two hours before the class) to become.

So then I thought, actually no, I’m just going to ‘have fun’. I went out, got really drunk, fell over a lot at The Lizard. It was okay… I could probably have done this a few times a week. Maybe I’d found my niche. But then, the cold, the lack of fresh food and my crappy immune system got the better of me. I spent the last three weeks before Christmas with every ‘itus’ in the book. Tonsilitus, laryngitis… it was shit. I said farewell to the party lifestyle I’d so embraced for one excellent night, and hello again to BBC iPlayer. Thank goodness for Frozen Planet.

Now I’m at home, reflecting on my first semester in St Andrews, nervously awaiting exam results and repeating my new mantra that ‘first year does not count’ to calm my nerves. So now here I am, distracting myself, and having another stab at the whole extra curricular activities thing… maybe journalism is my forte.

Written by Naomi Morrice, understand writer