Well, that’s all folks! After five issues, ten section meetings and review meetings, five awkward distribution Thursdays, countless articles and then one heart-wrenching AGM, I am no longer Viewpoint editor. It is lying in my back garden post-Rugby 7s that I write this, amongst the lovely company of my friends pleasantly tipsy from ‘Jeeves’ (which will never be a full replacement for Pimm’s but I’m willing to overlook it…).
Call me anti-social, but it’s not my fault that my laptop is also blasting Spotify with chilled summer tunes. It’s finally hitting me that it’s almost summer, and with that the end of the semester, and with that, the end of another year of university. It’s weird to think about, isn’t it? That time is really going as quickly as we disbelievingly exclaim it to be. “Where does the time go?!” God only knows, all that we should concentrate on it to seize it.
I still remember vividly moving into my house, spending those last few summer days before school started with my housemate in this same garden, drinking and chilling with the same music. And now it won’t be too long before we begin to pack and move out, packing up the year of our lives that just went by in the blink of an eye.
Yes we’re moving out of our house. Now that it’s the end of the year I’m excited about moving out and starting afresh. I realise now that sounds a bit cruel – it’s not through our own action that we’re moving out. I’m going on my year abroad and thus breaking up my house – it’s my fault! But at the same time, my cave of a house, the cubbyhole planted into the side of a hill; where the rooms are always dark and taps are always dripping, is being left behind.
But don’t get me wrong, there have been some amazing times there with my housemates, my drunken nights with pre’s or having dinner parties. Celebrating or commiserating with friends, and listening to, what my housemates and I have reached a conclusion on, the upstairs’ neighbours’ jazzercise class through the horrifically thin ceiling and walls. As my housemate so eloquently and naively put it, “It’s a hole, but it’s our hole”.
The end of things always calls for a reflection, a conclusion and I can conclude that it’s been a good year. I’ve accomplished things I never thought I would have, met new people, and made new friends. Go on, laugh, sceptics and cynics. I know this all sounds cliché and ridiculous, but I bet in the quiet of your bedroom, staring at your ceiling at 3 am, you remind yourself of coming to the end of things and your mind flashes with the highlights of your year.
First years: revel in the fact that you’ve had one of the best years of your life. You’ve had new experiences, made friends you’ll live with and have had even more fun with, and experienced your first Raisin! Fourth years: well, you have much to look back on. Maybe too much if you’ve spent your years here right. Just look back and be proud that you’ve made it to the other side unscathed. I don’t mean emotionally from your dissertations, I mean from the countless nights from the Vic and the Lizard scrubbing that stamp from your skin until you’re red raw.
But it’s not quite over yet… We still have about a month. So fill it. Fill it with the things that you haven’t done yet, the things that you’ve been too scared to do. Do that pier jump with your friends, go naked at May Dip and, yes, even you 3rd/4th years, don’t spend all of your revision time in the library – go outside and soak up the sun on the beach on either a picnic or a walk while the sun permits it.
I know I’ll definitely be doing a lot of soaking up: the energy of my friends, the environment and as many memories I can. For, come September, I will be in sunnier climates of Toulouse, France studying for my 3rd year. For me, this makes both a beginning and an ending; ending my time at St Andrews briefly, but getting anxious and excited for my trip abroad. Whilst friends plan for adopting children and pre-advising for honours modules, I photocopy passport photos like they’re going out of style and look up roommate adverts in a foreign city. Each to his own I guess.
A slice of home will be visiting me though, for I will be asking my friends to send me a copy of my dear The Saint every issue it comes out, and when I flip to Viewpoint I’ll see the beaming face of Tom Coombes above his new column as Viewpoint editor, a protective and reassuring face as the new caretaker of the section. I’ll miss it, of course, but I’m completely reassured by Tom. He’ll take the section to new, and funnier, heights.
It’s been a good run Viewpoint, I’ll see you when I get back.