(aka Little Miss Lemon)
Guaranteed to confuse, Catherine, a village gal from just outside Sheffield, performed a stalwart job of appearing normal for the first month. Clearly exhausted by the task, she then relapsed into what we swiftly realised was her normal state of conscious delirium. While one will immediately search for the profound connection between such varied topics of conversation as citrus discrimination in education, squirrel porn and corpses in ice cream vans…there isn’t one. Described by fellow medic Dave as “90% leg”, Catherine also vehemently denies that her suite of rooms is deserving of such a title. Nevertheless she can often be heard cursing her door (which apparently doesn’t like her) and talking to the walls of the corridor. When not inventing new words (or amalgamating old ones) Catherine occassionally studies medicine.
Most likely to be heard saying: “The lemons are plotting to take over the world!”
Most likely to be heard singing: Magical Trevor
Preferred term of abuse: Stuuupid!!
I know I’m not back in Cambridge yet, but Ravi is. That’s how keen he is. Or else it is an interesting indication of how well he gets on with his parents given that he’s chosen an empty corridor for company over them. Either that or he’s planning a surprise party for my arrival tomorrow. Which is incidentally just the sort of thing this networking socialite would do. Inspired by old prisons and modern surveillance techniques, he produced an inordinately enjoyable system of shining bright lights and laserbeams at drunken revellers returning in the early hours of the morning. Plans to release a compilation video entitled “Keep Off The Grass” are in the early stages with a number of interested distributors. Ravi suffers from an unusual crutch fetish and whilst his rehabilitation has been unsteady, there has been definite progress. Having been on crutches for the first week, his attempts to go cold turkey proved fruitless when he relapsed a few weeks later, becoming attached to them for over three weeks before we could pry them away (just one at first; he would sleep clutching the other tightly). I am pleased to announce that I have been reliably informed he has been clean for the past seven weeks.
Given last term’s distinct lack of updates and the fact that many of our readers are therefore unfamiliar with my companions and co-conspirators (read: drinking pals and fellow slackers) at Cambridge, I have devised a cunning method to bring everyone properly up to speed on the new characters who will shortly be appearing in these chronicles. Over the next few days you will be introduced through a series of lively profiles to a dark and seedy world which may well scar you for life. So don’t say you weren’t warned.
There are two sorts of people awake at midnight on New Year’s Eve: those who are up to see in the new year and those who are there just to make sure the old one leaves. I didn’t really have plans for this New Year, but Andie had an extra ticket for the bash at Walkabout in Croydon and even offered to drive me so I could hardly refuse! We went with Antonia and, although the place was absolutely packed as expected, it was a really fun night. One of Andie’s uni friends was there, and I bumped into Richie from the old Vodafone crew and Lyndon too. It’s always great to unexpectedly get the chance to catch up with people like that. Oh, and there was the cute, bubbly redhead from church who was also there the only other time I’ve been to Walkabout, whose name I don’t know so shall be dubbed “Walkabout Girl”.
After a slightly subdued new year’s countdown, we headed back to Antonia’s where we met up with Adam, Dicko, Zaki and Jane who had all been up in London. Despite being horrendously tired (as the photos attest) we ended up drinking and chatting until about 6am when we finally dumped some mattresses on the floor and all slept in her living room. A proper sleepover, including prerequisite pillow fight (Andie vs. Dicko). While the others slept, I had to be up within about two and a half hours to meet my parents and go off to Harrow for our usual New Year family gathering. Despite being in something of a daze I managed to stumble through it all cheerfully enough.
So that’s 2004 done then. New Year’s resolutions? Not really. Mine is usually more a list of things I want to forget and put behind me. So when you raise your glass to the New Year, I’ll be toasting them for the last time. I’m not sure whether the world changes while we stay the same, or if it’s us that changes and the world that does not. Maybe it’s like they say in I ♥ Huckabees, “Everything is different and everything’s the same.” I kinda like that. So here’s to another year of new memories that are really just the same.