This poor blog has been much neglected of late as, frankly, I haven’t had the time to ramble textually to a largely indifferent audience. I shall chose to blame work and the “man” for this, though a wholly disinterested observer may wish to lay some of the blame at my doorstep for my tendency to go out to have “fun” rather than staying in and committing my soi-disant thoughts to print.
Well, today I have been given (along with most of the inhabitants of this fair continent) a free, “bonus” hour – though it will be taken back in March (so it’s more of a loan if I’m honest) – so I felt I had no excuse for not blogging.
Having left Cambridge in a marked manner less than three months ago, this is my second weekend back by the banks of the Cam. I’m sure a psychiatrist would tell me this is terribly unhealthy and that I should make a clean break, but what do they know?
My first time back was to take in some of the Film Festival (something Southampton seemed to lack, though was merely being incredibly secretive about). I also managed to meet up with friends, take in some music and a lecture and wangle an invite to formal dinner at one of the colleges (surrounded by alumni and staff, I was somewhat of an interloper – getting in by dint of giving them my piano as part of the move away from Cambridge). On that occasion, I stayed at Churchill College in one of their student rooms – this was a wonderful (and slightly nostalgic) experience and I would always stay there again if it were possible. Sadly, during term time they insist on allowing students to stay in their rooms – the cheek of it!
This weekend, I am back to enjoy some music – both student and otherwise – and take in a play. I’m staying above a pub, which offers a perfectly decent room – but which is neither as cheap nor as redolent of days past as staying in college.
Cambridge, unsurprisingly, still feels like home – despite the fact that I am “living” in places I’ve never stayed (or even visited) before. However, being here without a bicycle feels very odd – I have to walk or use the bus to get anywhere which just feels wrong. In Oxford (and even Southampton), I can hire a Brompton for £5 per day from a “machine” at the station – but not in Cambridge where bike hire is substantially more expensive and less convenient (especially on a Sunday). On the plus side, staying much nearer the city makes a nice change with no need for an 8 mile bike ride home into a strong wind (well, almost always) after a gig.
Still, the sun has come out and I ought to go out and enjoy its rays before Britain is raised to the ground by the oncoming storm, or so the media would have us believe. They have definitely learned “a” lesson from Michael Fish in 1987, I’m just not sure it’s the right one. Then again, if by the middle of the week I am forced to forage for scraps in the ruins of our civilisation, hiding from marauding gangs of feral ex-citizens – they will be able to enjoy a brief feeling of smugness at my expense. Anyway, I better go as with the shift to GMT, nightfall can only be minutes away!