Cambridge, five months on... Part 2

Saturday morning, and I was up early (for me). I was keen to get out and about, I’d arranged to meet Alex and Katie for breakfast, and I wanted to avoid meeting the neighbours and explaining why I’d taken possession of a room in a college that wasn’t even mine. Which was perfectly reasonable, but I’m not good at meeting strangers even in completely ordinary situations. Hehe. After the rare joy of a college breakfast, Alex abandoned me to go rowing. But that was fine because I had some exploration planned. I soon found that being in Cambridge but not in a Cambridge frame of mind – and being able to breathe, what with it not being June – meant that those places that had always seemed hopelessly far-flung and exotic (Fitz; Hills Road beyond the station) were actually quite close by.

First off, I headed down past the Botanic Gardens to Brooklands Avenue in search of the famous Accordia. I read an article in the Guardian about Alison Brooks, citing the fact that she’d designed semi-detached (shock!) houses at Accordia as evidence of the growing accessibility of her work at lower price ranges. Technically true but any vision of ‘fine architecture for the masses’ is tempered rather when one discovers that the semis in question cost well over £1,000,000…

My tour of modern Cambridge continued as I made my way across Hills Road past The Belvedere (the one that advertises getting up later and still making it to London in time for work), the leisure park and thence to the environs of Rustat Road. Then across the exciting footbridge (whose name now escapes me) and back towards the city centre, heeding not the unfortunate drizzle.

I was a little disillusioned, in my childish impatience, to find that the Grand Arcade seemed not to have progressed visibly in the many months of my absence, save for a montage of portraits of the city by I-forget-whom, which were rather good.

I took another walk around college, where I passed the Chaplain. “Had a good term?” he asked; “I haven’t had a term,” I replied somewhat inadequately. “Haha, I know!” he replied. But he didn’t, since I meant it literally this time… Strange business, going back to somewhere you’ve left behind (and yet not left behind).

With half an hour or so before I’d arranged to meet Alex again, I set off to visit an old schoolfriend at Tit Hall, who was living beyond Fitz. Of course when I was at Cambridge I’d’ve considered it a fool’s errand to travel so far out of town on such a tight schedule, but in the event I was surprised to find that it was, in fact, an easy ten-minute walk away. Strange thing, perception. The one time I had to go to New Hall for a supervision, on the one day when I had lectures immediately before and after and it was tipping it down, it seemed to take at least 40 minutes each way… But my supervisor liked my essay so that was the main thing. And obligingly set it as her exam question some months later… hehe.

Back to the town, and dutifully stopped in at Lakeland on mother’s orders, where a nice young lady gave me chocolate to make up for my having to wait in a (rather short) queue. She was actually a Lakeland employee so it wasn’t the story it could’ve been, but jolly good all the same.

After college lunch with Alex, I was back out on the streets whilst he attended to Boatie Stuff. I took a nostalgic trip to Borders and then managed to track down T’Other Stephen. We made our meandering way to the house he shares with various others, where I had the privilege of being left alone and then having to announce myself to Carl and Kathy, who didn’t know I was there. Then after tea and chocolate digestives (always a dangerous thing to give me) we watched Peep Show (which was a chilling vision of things [potentially] to come à la The Office), and Kathy helpfully relaced one of my trainers for me. Helpless? Moi? Out again into the dreary night, a trip along the Newmarket Road reminded me that in its distinctly un-magical areas Cambridge isn’t far removed from any other Midlands city. Not, of course, that I have much experience of Midlands cities.

Then after another appearance at college dinner with Alex (like a bad penny, me), and some time dithering over crosswords, it was time for an ever-so-slightly last-minute dash to Christ’s to hear the Voices sing Mozart’s Requiem. Our fashionable arrival allowed us to get really excellent (if adventurous) seats, so close to the choir that I had to duck when the soloists came out so as not to suffer an unpleasant binder/forehead interface. There I sat, with an earful of alto and an eyeful of soprano and a superfluous college scarf. And I take back all my doubts about Christ’s Voices’ ability to pull off the Requiem, because it was absolutely stunning. (The lesson here is that I can make a music society really good by leaving it!) It joins Sibelius 2 in the category of works I’ve heard performed better than on my recording – a couple of years ago I spent some time trying to decide on the best recording of the Requiem but settled for Naxos in the end so that I at least had a recording.

Afterwards there was a proliferation of biscuits (hurrah for the Joblings), by which Alex was particularly pleased. Then whilst he attended an important engagement at the pub, I stayed and helped Rachel pack up the music stands, as old-timers do. Afterwards, it was time to hang around in someone’s room, as you do. Except that this time I wasn’t feeling that counterproductive “I should be working; but I’m not; but I’ll continue to remind myself of that so that I don’t really enjoy not working”. So I felt quite grown-up and enjoyed myself greatly, particularly catching up with people I hadn’t really expected to see again. (Though there were notable others whom I missed). I’ll only be able to go back and find familiar faces still around for perhaps a year, so I hope to make the most of it.

And so, by stages, not forgetting the reading of graduate brochures, to bed.