Anthem from a Doomed Youth

At the time of writing, it’s a beautiful day outside! Birds are singing, flowers are blooming. On days like these, kids like you get to sit in the library and cry, because it’s officially EXAM SEASON! Tears will be provided on entry, bring your own panic attacks. The dress code is brown pants and a shirt the colour of blood.

I’ve spent the last couple of weeks studying, shifting between caging myself in the library and caging myself in my room, like Fritzl with a commute. Thus far, ‘revision’ is going ‘probably’ ‘well’, and someday I might even get to take the quote-marks down from one of those words.

Things aren’t going too badly, for the moment, but wait until Week 5 hits – if all else fails, at least the note stapled to my chest when they pull me out of the River Ouse might have some accurate facts about the Scientific Revolution on it.

On the bright side, we’re also seeing the start of summer! Baby geese have started appearing, to be cooed and aww-ed over for a month before their dark leaders teach them the taste of blood and an abyssal, bone-deep hatred for your legs. As the Good Book says, “these are the reincarnations of those who acquired 2:1s in a previous life, and the 2:2s shall be ducks, but those who got thirds shall be tadpoles and dwell in Derwent water” (Tron, 23:17).

York summer also means snow and hail, of course. At university, even the weather doesn’t know what it wants to do with its life, and sunshine tends to take a year out and go to South America. But we have had a few days of glorious sunshine. Judging by the outfits I’ve seen walking past me, I’m going to have to relearn ‘Seasonal Fashion’, which is the equivalent of trying to teach your dog how to use the microwave.

People have already been out revising on the grass: walking past them made me feel like I was going to end up on the front cover of a prospectus. There were even people doing it on the hill at the side of the library, where everyone in JB Morrell could see them. Though, in that case, you’ll probably receive the kind of death-stare reserved for Malia Bouattia at bar mitzvahs.

Speaking of Bouattia, all eyes have been on the NUS as of late. I guess a lot of students can’t afford Game of Thrones, so it helps if you can watch unelected autocrats look shocked and appalled when their subjects turn on them for free. About 20 universities are readying plans to leave, due to a growing feeling that the NUS’ biggest contribution to student life is cheaper cheeseburgers at McDonald’s.

Admittedly, plans to force a referendum on the issue in Week 8 have their own problems. It’s at the tail-end of exam season, and occurring just as third-years are starting to slip into the beginning stages of Postgrad Apathy Syndrome. Still, striking while the controversy is hot ought to increase voter turnout somewhat. And if all else fails, we only need 372 people to count for everyone.

For now, though, there’s exams to push through – and HOPEFULLY, a Roses to win. Don’t worry – there’s light at the end of the tunnel, and it’s probably not an incoming train. Stay determined!

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