So my boss admitted the other day that he hadn’t blogged since starting his job: if I fall off the wagon, therefore, at least I’m in excellent company. That said, last weekend I went to my second of hopefully many more Puntcons, worth recording for its many stimulating conversations alone. Not to mention the rather odd moment when my old admissions tutor swam by. (Would anyone dare accuse Cambridge of having a rather cosy side? Surely not.) I toasted Hume’s brilliance over cider and sausages, debated the long-term social disruption posed by embarrassing Facebook photos of your teenage self falling into a pond and eavesdropped on some clever new ideas for apps floating over from the next punt… well, who wouldn’t like to spend a Sunday doing that?
(Silly question, obviously, although not quite as silly as it seems. In the pub prior to my fifth NewsRevue last night – fifth! – Josh and Niamh relayed the story of getting into a fight at a gig after six loutish blokes pissed into a cup, kicked the contents of said cup over themselves and any unfortunate bystanders, and then proceeded to round on one guy who objected to this unwelcome showering. Now, diversity is great and everything. It’s one of the many wonders of living in a pluralist liberal democracy that people are free to pursue their own interests. That’s special. That’s awesome. Go kick a ball around a field for money, go camp in honour of a fictional wizard, go giggle at unemployed News of the World hacks: go have good times, then sit back and laugh about them later with friends in the pub, hence neatly resolving the thorny problem of how to fill that yawning gap between birth and death. Hurrah. Great. Sorted. But do people really sit round and fondly reminisce about that time we covered ourselves in our own urine? At the very least, it seems a touch unimaginative, no?)
Also this week: lunch with Sanna and Theo, judging the annual QPCS Summer Carnival parents vs. students debate with Grace – sadly we agreed on everything, and so the opportunity for an X Factor-style judging bust-up was thrown away – and Saoirse’s birthday picnic today. Happy birthday! Let’s all steer clear of any flying cups.
As someone who was also drenched in the aforementioned urine I must concur!