Suicide Sunday kicks off the grand tradition of Cambridge’s May Week (yes, we know it’s in June; no, we don’t feel the need to explain), a solid week of Balls, garden parties and alcoholic relaxation and revelry. Suicide Sunday plays host to many garden parties as people attempt to drink themselves to oblivion before running headlong into the Cam or doing whatever it is that they have planned for the evening. K-Bar’s manifesto for the day was to reduce the liquid content of the bar by no less than one quarter, a goal that I am glad to say we successfully reached.
Like me, Beccy from J did not have tickets to any of the three garden parties on the Paddock, so instead we grabbed a couple of bottles of wine, headed down and sat on the edge chatting to everyone who wandered by for any of the festivities. A plan that worked out quite nicely, offering front-row seats to cast our critical eye across the day’s events.
The first was The Exiles do, an affair of forum-aggravating questionable taste that sees the wealthiest and most landed of the Cambridge elite gathering to…well, to be very rich together. Whilst arguably a slightly vapid affair, they certainly do it with a level of style. Their antics this year included an amusing bout of cricket using a champagne bottle and champagne flutes, although this became somewhat less amusing on reflection as the ground was now littered with broken glass for the later garden parties. Oli’s attempt to disrupt proceedings in general protest at the Exiles consisted of dressing as a chav and attempting to crash the party, being asked by one bouncer whether he was even a member of the college!
Following this was the heavily subscribed Danby do which had a attracted a lot more attention than organisers Sonia and Fiona had expected. Beccy and I were camped out by this point chatting to several friends as they sipped away at diluted bottles of Pimms. It seemed like the most successful of the day’s parties based upon the large crowd it attracted and general merriment of all involved. The later Tribal barbeque, organised by the boaties, was rather more expensive given its barbeque but as food ran out swiftly people became somewhat less enamoured with the ticket price. The damp reception by guests must have been a bit of a blow to the boaties who pride themselves on their ability to party, although in truth most of them were probably too drunk to care.
Beccy is also looking at swelling the ranks of The Cambridge Globalist‘s staff which would be great to have her involved with. After my website work was shown to editor Stephanie and Rawen, our contact at Yale, I have been offered a promotion to Production Editor which I eagerly accepted. I will be in charge of the layour and design of printed issues of the magazine as well as having a stronger say being on the editorial staff. Next year is shaping up to be a fun ride.