Bow-ties should always be slightly wonky
As of Thursday, at least. And predictably I am immediately really busy, so won’t go into the finer details of graduation apart from to say that – until that very moment – I had no idea whether I would be able to kneel down, pseudo-pray to the Master whilst he spoke some magic Latin over me, get up again, bow and walk out of Senate House without freezing in panic or falling over. (I could!) So hurrah for all that 
OK, I don’t have time to trawl through photographs at the moment – or even coherently organise my thoughts in full sentences – because Joshua’s coming up in a couple of hours for the Caius May Ball tonight! (Yeah, it’s hedonism central at the moment ) But! Here are some of my highlights from last night:
- The whole crowd loudly demanding Wheatus play Teenage Dirtbag throughout their set, and the moment they actually started
- Quite unexpectedly bumping into Promise in the queue for the dodgems
- The dodgems!
- Being responsible for handing Sophie her first ever piece of candy floss
- Losing to Helen in a night-long eating contest (that girl is impressive)
- The amazing fireworks with an amazing soundtrack – especially the synchronised fire display to the theme from Pirates of The Caribbean!
- Looking out over the Cam and seeing it 99.7% filled by punts, as people took advantage of the river passing through Trinity to also watch the fireworks
- And finally on the fireworks, actually being moved when they played out to Palladio. We used to listen to that in the car all the time!(I think it was at this moment when I had a strong sense that, whatever you might think, I do actually deserve this right now
) - Alphabeat’s entire set. Superb
- Amateur Transplants! Who ended with the famous London Underground song, as you’d expect, but did a whole hour of other hilarious stuff first
- The paps waiting outside at 6 in the morning, clearly waiting for embarrassing photos of Cambridge students
I’m done! Free! Finished! Yay!
As I said, my last exam – the India paper – was yesterday morning; the last question I answered was on The Emergency. (Sorry, can’t remember my last word. Probably nothing very exciting.) Quite reasonably, people have been asking how it went – but to be honest the whole exam period is now rapidly rushing out of my brain and into the dim and distant past, so I can only assume it went ‘fine’. And now freedom(ish)! Tash slightly burst my ‘last exam ever’ bubble by pointing out that driving theory tests exist, and now I think about it I’m sure future employers / citizenship panels / mental health assessment units will foist numerous future ‘exams’ on me over the rest of my life. But y’know what I mean
(In the couple of hours between ‘finishing exams’ and ‘going out to celebrate’, by the way, I (a) ate a large hot dog, (b) bought double scoops of ice-cream and (c) started to read a fun page-turner thriller about technology ‘n’ things which would probably result in my eviction from Book Club if I ever presented it to them. I am a geek child.)
Anyway, I then met up with long-ago-finished-exams Simon for a beer-fuelled viewing of apparently cult classic Welcome to the Jungle, which is worth seeing alone for The Rock engaged in the most ludicrous use of the OneLastJob trope I have ever seen. Sure, he’s a big and violent (although very lovable) bounty hunter, but he’s only doing this OneLastJob to raise the money to open his own restaurant. Seriously. A restaurant. Never just thought of applying for a business loan, no…? No, OK, fine, bounty hunter it is then. Hilarity ensues.
Naturally, we then enlarged the group and headed to the pub. It was the only right thing to do
There was a little stress to begin with, last night, as a crowd of historians began gathering in chilly conditions for the annual Caius History Society Dinner whilst I paced around declaring that I would only require two further things in life to be happy forever after: a photographer and a Radio 4 controller. Within minutes, however, they had duly both arrived and everything was set for a wonderful evening. The food was delicious, Mark’s speech was excellent – although having heard some of the feedback which Radio 4 gets direct from the controller’s mouth, I don’t think the frequently hilarious Feedback will ever hold quite the same allure again – and our Part II DoS, Emma Hunter, delivered a happy dose of embarrassment to many of us by pulling quotes direct from our personal statements. (Beware, children! They may well come back to haunt you years later!) I left the after-party sometime after 2am, although it was very much still going strong for some, feeling very pleased and content that this mini-feat of organisation had come off alright on the night. (And only a little sad that it would be my last time going to one of these… 
) So… hurrah for you all!
Hmm, now to get back to all of that work I’ve been neglecting…
*Yes yes, I realise this isn’t literally true, but it’s the spirit of maternal inheritance which counts. Oh, and the number isn’t arbitrary either…
Bad blogger blah blah blah. Let’s move on: or back, rather to the weekend before last! A weekend in which Lucy and I once again fell in with the Emma crowd (and it really was the Emma crowd this time) by going to their formal hall on Sunday. This was… a strange experience. It was lovely to be invited, and they did serve finer potatoes than anything Caius has ever managed. (Less Fewer points for the meat, but that’s a different story.) But what was very odd was one of the porters, who – donned in sunglasses even through indoor sunglasses are near-universally ridiculous – spent his time roaming from one table to another and telling people off. Largely for talking.
“We have your names!” Well, erm, actually you don’t – I believe Simon put me down on the guest list as ‘Dominic Livingstone’. And Lucy goes to Sussex, who are unlikely to care much. But that’s not the point! Still, it has given me a renewed warm glow towards Caius… they may loose your cheques and serve you questionable chicken burgers, but at least they never shout at you because ‘I can hear you laughing’. 
(Then we went off, drank lots and ate from the Van of Life. Twas good.)
I think this stands as one of the more successful photos of the night…
Not pictured: my brief attempt at this
I’d also like to show off my now-completed Secret Project X, or ‘Oliver’s birthday present’, but I can’t quite yet, so it’ll have to wait for next time. So, 2012ish, perhaps?
(Postscript: the philosophy library is one of my new favourite places in the world. This probably won’t last, though: my productivity goes up in little spikes with the novelty of finding a new place to work before settling back down again. Hence Simon and I deciding that we were going to embark on a roving library tour…)
(Postscript the second: stop spamming my blog, spammers! I don’t want to learn how to play the guitar, and neither do I want ‘cheap phentermine’. I don’t even know what phentermine is. [Looks it up.] An ‘appetite suppressant’?! Pur-lease. The really cheap way of suppressing your appetite is through eating cheap food.
Helen on It’s (waiting) time.: “Fabulous news, congratulations to you both! X” Jun 8, 21:51
