As we soak up the sun during the long vacation – or more likely, curl up in a ball and consume industrial quantities of Netflix – the time away from the Cambridge bubble can leave us feeling detached. Amid the flurry of selfies and snapshots from every corner of the globe, sharing myriad experiences from activism in Nepal to €1 shots in Mykonos, it can feel like everybody is doing something but you. The brief glimpses which we share on social media are tailored to give the impression that our lives are endlessly interesting and exciting, but peeling away the layers (and the Instagram filters) reveals a stark contrast between our lives at home, and our lives in Cambridge.

Cambridge is insular, intense, and ­immediate. Everything (and everyone) is always at hand, and there is always something just around the corner, be it an essay deadline, a supervision, a match, a rehearsal, an evensong or a show. Eight-week terms turn Cambridge not only into the academic equivalent of a Victorian Workhouse, but a social pressure cooker as well. Many of us come to university thinking that we’ll meet our friends for life, and become disenchanted when we haven’t met them by the end of Freshers’ Week. Even after 24 weeks of term time, including the booze-fuelled haze of May Week, it can feel as if that magical moment where you meet the Laurie to your Fry or the Mel to your Sue never came.

And so, coming home at summer is doubly strange. Not only have many of the relationships around us changed: that one couple you always swore would get married after Sixth Form have broken up, people who never went out before uni have suddenly turned into extras from Geordie Shore, and the only evidence you have that one friend still exists is that he occasionally tags you in avant-garde, ironic memes on Facebook. Soon, you discover that you too have changed. Maybe you already knew this – turns of phrase picked up from flatmates (a particular favourite of mine was “oh, hello Christmas!” – don’t ask…), different opinions, new hobbies or sports (read: rowing).

In the transition back to home life we go from one environment where our interpersonal relationships were more tightly knit than ever, whether through our sporting, dramatic, musical (or dare I mention, academic) lives – to another, where once-tightly knit friendship groups have drifted apart. It’s something that we all go through at some stage – the identity crisis between ourselves at home and ourselves at university. Are we different people at Cambridge and at home? Summer forces us to confront this uncomfortable question.

For those of us that come from further afield than the Home Counties, this experience can be even more disorientating. Snapchat can be the worst – what better way to fuel your self-doubt than by seeing all your shiny new university friends partying away without you? Sure, you were invited, but the expense of booking return flights makes it difficult to have an impromptu catch up. Meeting friends becomes a timetabled, organised, and sterile process, devoid of any spontaneity.

The solution? Don’t worry about it.

The situation I have just described isn’t unique and it certainly isn’t a symptom of a failed first year at Cambridge. We are two different people. We are three different people. We are hundreds of different people for each and every little interaction around us, and having undergone such a massive life change, it’s perfectly normal for us to notice these subtle changes more when we come home for the long vacation. The cognitive dissonance that arises when we return is a sign that we are processing this change in a healthy way – instead of bottling it up, we are willing to explore exactly what it is that makes us different people at home and at university.

It may be something simple – for those of us with accents, they may get stronger when we’re at home – or it may be something much more subtle, like the way you dress, foods you eat, or what you drink on a night out. These little differences, rather than a sign of ‘two-faced’-ness or insincerity, are just the hallmarks of going to university – a place where we are thrust into a completely new situation with completely new people. Summer is a time when we can reflect on how we’ve developed as a person, and it is a sign of a successful year at university where we can look back and say, “Yeah, I’ve changed a bit.” 

Inbetween binge watching Stranger Things, barbeques, drinks by the pool, and the most important component of summer in the UK – rain – you might take the time out for a little self-reflection. Don’t waste any valuable, supervision-free time worrying about things that don’t matter ­– your friends in Cambridge are still your friends even if you don’t see them as often. Your friends at home are still your friends, they’re just as worried about losing you to the vast abyss of adulthood as you are about losing them. The trick is realising that it’s all in your head – and that’s all that matters: what you think of yourself.

Whew. That was very zen. Time for a beer I think.