Rosie Best

I was scrolling through Facebook recently when I saw that a friend had indicated that they were attending “Freshers’ Fortnight” at their university. This struck me as madness. Shouldn’t that be “Freshers’ three and a half days”? Whilst shocked, I was not envious and instead inwardly thanked the Cambridge overlords for not forcing me and others through what I can only imagine would have been a hellish, drawn-out introduction to university life.

For non-drinkers Freshers’ Week can be a struggle – the pressure to conform to the drinking culture rife during this time is overwhelming. The constant bombardment of proposed trips to Cindies, the pre-drinks which inevitably precede these and even wine in the Master’s Lodge can lead to awkwardness for those who don’t wish to find themselves stumbling around college at 3am, in the rough direction of the bathroom. In these situations, a non-drinker is often able to socialise only through a cyclical conversation with an unknown drunken person, in which no meaningful reaction can be induced beyond an ill-aimed high-five.

The length of Freshers’ Week is proportional to the length of our term which, of course, is unusually short. A Freshers’ fortnight, for example, would mean a huge reduction in our work time and possibly send supervisors into a sort of frenzy awaiting essays to read and mark.

If we welcome Freshers into our colleges with the promise of an easy, relaxed start we are simply setting them up for a fall, whilst a shorter Freshers’ Week allows them to anticipate what may have otherwise been a sharp slap in the face.

For many, the most significant aspect of Freshers’ Week is the opportunity to socialise, and the more time you are allowed, the more friendships will be formed, right? Wrong. In a new habitat, cliques are swiftly established amongst Freshers and once formed it is difficult to infiltrate ranks or jump ship.

Freshers’ Week is less about widening your social circle than about establishing yourself; communicating your fun-loving, easy-going personality to others in order to attract the appropriate counterparts and form a social group – a process which, I have observed, takes only a matter of hours. 

Currently, our Freshers’ Week can be accurately described as short and sweet; perfectly engineered for maximum social gain and minimal academic loss. Let us collectively shun the notion of a Freshers’ fortnight and instead embrace the reality that there is such a thing as too much fun.

Lana Crowe

Nine a.m. on the first day of lectures. Students are arriving in their masses, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, eager to start their new year’s work with a smile. “I’m really looking forward to finding out more about the significance of marginalia in medieval manuscripts,” one euphoric fresher muses, “learning revitalises me.”

Disclaimer: this scenario is the stuff of fantasy, existing only in the lies of lazy students when chatting with their parents, and in the naïve psyche of the over-enthusiastic school-leaver. The reality of the first morning of lectures involves far more paracetamol, strong coffee and empty seats. What more can you expect when, a few hours earlier, the same contingent, barely recognisable in their Wednesday-best, were rocking up to Cindies to fully experience the rite of passage that is Freshers’ Week.

Freshers’ Week should be about fun, not about fear. Having to settle down with new people, a new place, and a new independent way of life is stressful enough without mountains of work to worry about as well. It’s a week that should be about learning where Sainsbury’s is, not learning how to Harvard reference. Having only four days to figure out how to live in Cambridge is a big ask; it requires developing skills for the challenge known as a functioning adult life (even more daunting than exams).

One of the most important aspects of going to university is expanding your social sphere; Freshers’ Week lays the foundation for this. After being in Cambridge for only four days, you are required to spend a significant amount of time alone, in independent study. It’s not long before the dreams of going punting or walking to Granchester are crushed by your looming first deadline.

In typical Cambridge style, Freshers’ Week throws students in at the deep end. Two weeks’ worth of fun is packed into four days, just as three months of work is crammed into an eight-week term. I’m not calling for a Freshers’ Fortnight; I do not want you all to indulge, ironically or otherwise, in the ‘Flirt Fridays’ and ‘Smirnoff Saturdays’ of other institutions. First impressions are very important, and the whirlwind way in which Cambridge deals with Freshers’ Week begins the process of being overwhelmed that we spend our time here battling. Relaxation is not a sin.