Well, ladies and gentlemen, the summative blues have well and truly set in. It’s gotten to that sad point in the term where every familiar face you encounter in the street reminds you of the seminar work which hasn’t been prepared or the essay which hasn’t been written. The library is absolutely full and an air of general misery rests over the pale, tired faces of the students trapped inside..
If Meghan Trainor says: it`s “all about that bass”, I say: it`s “all about the socials” in Durham. So, what exactly is that? As I told you before, you cannot NOT be in at least one society when you come to Durham (unless you’ve been living in a cave for the last months, in which case- please, get yourself out there!) Back in October, Student Union organized a so called Students` Fair, where you can find about the clubs and societies you can join, and the activities and events you can get involved in. Believe me, with over 200 of them, there really is something for everyone. I am serious, it`s crazy how many options you have: from beer tasting/whiskey societies and ballroom dancing enthusiasts, to sky diving and chocolate lovers clubs, you name it, they have it all. Even if, by some super weird coincidence, you cannot find anything you like, you can create your own society with the minimum of 15 people. Actually, now when I think about it, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was “the unicorn fans” society…maybe it was, but I didn’t see it! (face of regret 😦 I think unicorns are magical! I mean…horses with horns, how awesome is that?!) Continue reading
I am still getting used to Durham’s culture of formals. For me a ‘formal’ had the connotation of a somewhat classier fraternity party in which you bring a date on a boozy bus to some boozy event off-campus (for example, my friend’s Auburn University Spring Formal trip to New Orleans for Mardi Gras). Much different, however, I enjoyed January’s ‘Burns Night Formal’ in college last week in which the romantic Scottish poet, Robert Burns, was honored and celebrated amid bowties and kilts. I had my first taste of haggis; I smiled cheekily at the bag-pipping processions; and, I had a go at translating some of Burns’ poems that were read aloud in passionate Sottish dialect. The evening finished with every non-Scot’s attempt at “dancing” the ‘ceilidh’ and my longing desire for a peaty glass of Scotch. All in all, it was a fun, bourgie night that cast such a contrast to the formals I had known. Continue reading