Temps perdu

The heat this morning really conjured up the claustrophobia, the mingled fear and relief, of exam-term Cambridge. It didn't help me to remember what I wanted to do when I left, because of course I didn't know. I think I was too befuddled by being there in the first place to think what could be possible when I left. Perhaps I never wanted to leave. Though I couldn't've handled another year of the claustrophobic college life. And attractive, in a utopian way, is the idea of being a Cambridge academic, I simply wasn't fired up enough by my subject to want to stay and research it. Perhaps another time, another subject, at another university. Someone I met last week noted that the way I described my Cambridge days made it sound 'more like an ordeal', and in some ways that's true. Certainly my time there could/should have been quite different, though I can't say whether that would be better. Anyway, I think it was probably right to leave the bubble, even if it means a lot of painful nostalgia for the place. It's probably best not to look back too much.