Let's drink a toast, as each of us recalls...

... ivy-covered professors, in ivy-covered halls.

Tom Lehrer's 'Bright College Days' seems rather apposite at the moment. As I potter around the garden pruning the roses (they're still flowering, yay!), Cambridge's version of a so-called "Freshers' 'Week'" (think I've qualified that enough) is drawing to a close. The undergrads will be guiding or being guided around, going to their DoS meetings, meeting compadres old and new, trying to cram in some of the reading they were going to do over the summmer. Jaded, third-year NatScis are regarding the freshers wondering if, maybe, this year they'll find themselves a nice girl. (They won't. By the time you're a third-year NatSci there's not much hope for you.) People are beginning to work out which three newbies are actually one newbie, and which one newbie is actually three. The year stretches out, long and exciting, before them; before the work starts, the undergrads will be taking their rare chance to relax and hang out together without the guilt of knowing they're neglecting an essay or three. And tomorrow at 9am, the physical natscis will pack into Chemistry LT1 for their first look at NatSci Maths, and very soon will think, "Dude, wtf?!" or words to that effect. The second year bio-but-formerly-physical natscis will regard their 11am start, and their probably correct expectation that this year will be a lot more fun, with some smugness. (Hmm, this is getting a bit specific). And even as the delighted word, "Hogwarts!", fades from the first years' lips, some bore in the third year will start talking about 'careers'...