“Someone I was seeing during my school days owned sheep”Mimi Robson

‘Going down’ for Christmas. It may sound like the title of a low-budget x-rated film, but in this context I can assure you that it isn’t something pleasurable for anyone involved. It’s entertaining to think that when Cambridge coined the term ‘going down’ they probably meant ‘down’ to London, but these days some of Cambridge’s students astonish our institution with how low down we can truly go.

Towards the end of term my social media becomes sprinkled with stimulating talks and events, suitably pretentious art shows, and ominous underground music evenings. My heart leaps when I think of all the good these events will do for my superiority complex. But then I look at the dates – which fall suspiciously late in December – and the truth strikes me like a dagger to the heart. They are all in London.

Life continues in the cultural metropolis of London outside of term-time for what, at times, feels like most Cambridge students. But I’m here to give a (slightly questionable) voice to Cambridge’s children of the South. I’ve spent my life pre-university living in a small village in the West Country, where the most exciting event of the year is the village fête in the summer, which to be fair, is pretty lit. A village where someone I was seeing during my school days owned sheep; a place where political correctness at times goes out the window, and my only source of solace is that I’m at least slightly across the border from Brexit-voting Wiltshire.

"The rural South is a great place to have grown up, and it’s a great place to come to die at the end of your life; it’s just a little bit hard to navigate if you fit anywhere between those two demographics"

Living in the South, away from even a city-centre, feels like a wasteland where nothing ever happens – but it also lacks the impression of elusiveness and authenticity generated by telling people you’ve come from some gritty northern town. People respect you when you say that you’ve come from the North. Northern students identify themselves as from outside of London, but not in the same tame, genteel, and inoffensive way that the South does.

What’s also curious is the specific brand of guilt that arises from criticising the South. The fact that so much of England’s countryside is so scenic makes you feel bad for criticising the dodgy politics flying about and the lack of activities. But I suppose it’s too late for me now.

While some students will be hitting up Fabric, my village is underpinned by a typical West-Country pub. A pub with friendly locals who at times drink suspiciously too much – and all the other figures you might expect to find in a sketch show about the South; the kind of pub that it would be positively rude to come to without a dog. Let’s be honest, down here we’ve all tried to make our own cider, to varying degrees of success. The clubs themselves make me feel nostalgic for Cambridge, which feels like quite a telling statement.

While some students will be attending life-changing talks which will alter them unrecognisably, making them a better person both intellectually and emotionally, and probably even raising their life expectancies (or so it feels from my envious perspective), some of us will have to wait until January until we can pretend to expand our minds. Instead, we occasionally make trips up to pay homage to London, catching a glimpse of our friends and the bright city lights; but as the laws of physics state – what comes up must come back down.

Don’t get me wrong, the rural South is a great place to have grown up, and it’s a great place to come to die at the end of your life; it’s just a little bit hard to navigate if you fit anywhere between those two demographics. I can’t complain that it isn’t nice, but I have to concede that it can be incredibly dull. In the holidays it can feel like part of Cambridge’s social scene is going on without you, while you spend your time trying not to get shot by pheasant hunters.

I’m not suggesting that we are in any way less fortunate in the South, but if you could all stop updating us on the London fun you’re having on social media that would be great, thanks.

Love,

The South x