That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
That Girl from Derwent has learned a few more things about prejudice since moving up North.
That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
Of course it doesn’t happen straight away; it creeps up on you gradually. It starts small. One day you’re enjoying a night out with the best of them, drinking and dancing like there’s no tomorrow. Then the excitement starts to fade, Ziggy’s no longer holds any sway over your heart, and even a night out in a pub loses its appeal. Before you know it your idea of a great night is a cup of hot chocolate in front of the TV, and you know there’s no going back.
That’s what’s happened to me. I haven’t been on a Viking Raid since first year, and I have no desire to go on one. I just can’t be bothered with going out and getting pissed - after all, I’ve got work to do! I can barely remember what it’s like to be a first year, when the world seems so full of promise and it feels like your time at uni will never end. Oh for those carefree days!
It isn’t just the nightlife that changes. I’ve started to notice things I never would have done before. While before I was the one whispering in the library, I now find myself tutting (yes, actually tutting!) at people who do the same. Everything seems much more expensive than it used to, and louder, and more annoying. The fact that I’m single becomes not just depressing, but a bit embarrassing, and I can’t help feel like a maiden aunt in the making, especially when I see all these nubile young freshers with their willowy limbs and perfect hair.
Cynicism starts to weigh you down, and disillusionment with the world sets in. I now actually watch the news, and care about what it's saying. Not only that but I have been having conversations which start “Well I think the solution to the credit crunch is…”, or “At least house prices will go down.” Not only that, but instead of the happy certainty about what the year will bring, I now have to deal with the fact that I will be graduating in less than a year. The real world, with all its problems, hangs like a shadow over me. Questions such as “Where will I live?”, “Where can I get a job?”, and the dreaded “Will I have to run home to my parents?” crowd my mind, and I read the newspapers for the financial advice, not just the comic strips.
University is meant to be a place where age ceases to matter, you can be 18 or 25 and no one cares. This is rubbish. I care. There are people in York now who were born in the nineties, who don’t remember Thundercats, or when Power Rangers were still cool. I can feel the grumpy old woman in me fighting to get out, and find myself becoming patronising when I hear first years complain how hard their lives are. You ain’t seen nothing yet! Now if you excuse me, I need to go make myself a nice cup of tea.
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