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I cannot believe it is Christmas. Again.
Similar to most people, I expect, my festive expectations include terrible Christmas songs, homemade mince pies, and a rather haphazardly decorated tree – what’s not to like? With none of these commodities available to me in my university accommodation, I knew this Christmas would be an interesting experience. Nonetheless, I was in no way going to miss out on the usual traditions. So, prohibited from buying a tree, playing Christmas music, or displaying so much as one Christmas card in my room, I turned my attentions to planning the best university festive season with the limited resources I had.
As with everything here at university (as I’ve discovered this term), it did not go down quite as I had anticipated.
Three weeks before Christmas, and the kitchen in our flat seemed to be the only kitchen in the entire college lacking in decorations. Amidst the tinsel, paper snowflakes, and multiple images of Father Christmas adorning every other kitchen I walked past, ours glowed bleakly like some kind of beacon to anti-Christmas spirit. It was as though the ghost of Scrooge had materialised instead of Christmas Present. Put simply, something had to be done about it: and a quick visit to the pound shop (aka Student Heaven) later, and we had a fair amount of tinsel of our own.
The next thing I decided we needed to do was have our very own Christmas dinner. After all, that’s what Christmas is about, isn’t it: the food? Or partly, anyway.
I now realise I was a touch idealistic.
I had long harboured fantasies of my entire flat merrily cooking the turkey together, peeling potatoes and lining up those sprouts, all the time humming Christmas tunes. It would have been an idyllic scene. However, whether due to a better appreciation of the effort involved, or a justifiable fear of salmonella, the other members of my flat weren’t going for it. Rather reluctantly, I conceded that we could enjoy a Christmas pizza together instead. “Roast Domino’s” may not have quite the same ring to it, but at least we dined together!
The last week of term passed in a blur of mocking my flatmates for having lessons (I love reading weeks), gleefully exchanging our (hastily organised) Secret Santa presents, and waiting desperately on student nights for our favourite haunts to play Christmas songs. I also eagerly anticipated the blanket of snow we were originally promised by the end of December, but York let me down and provided nothing but near gale-force wind. Never mind, the advantage is that the buses can – just about – drive through the wind.
It was with mixed emotions that I eventually packed (at 5am) and left (at 12pm) on the final day of term. It has been a roller-coaster first ten weeks of university, and it was with a heavy heart that I tore myself away from my second family; but I can’t wait to catch up with all the usual traditions of hunting the presents out with my sister - unbeknownst to my parents.
Until 2012, everyone.
For yesterday's advent article, click here.
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