As I always do, upon the sun’s long-awaited appearance, I have of course tripped and fallen flat on my face into my annual, UV-ray induced spell of unbearable positivity and optimism. The possibility of a pretty new summer dress and a picnic (with all the trimming – sausage rolls, lemonade, and a massive allergic reaction for us hay-fever sufferers) has tanned my supervision anxiety and Easter pre-reading list into the very least of my concerns. This time of year is always a time I find myself feeling more positive. Exam term has nothing on me – the sun will fix all my problems. My sun-soaked brain, however, also always turns to reflection. And now, more than any other year, I have found myself reflecting on what has been a bit of a meteorite of an academic year.

The life of a Cambridge student is something of a masterclass in time management (or more realistically, perhaps a masterclass in artfully asking for deadlines because you spent two hours in the MASH queue the night before essay-deadline-day). We are a mass-gathering of chronically busy students, cramming an over-inflated university workload into three eight-week bouts per year.

My fresher eyes had seen nothing like it before. And I really had seen some busy schedules in my really-quite-academically-intense sixth form. I barely knew what to think. The pressure, workload, and culture that Cambridge freshers experience is certainly nothing akin to what our school friends are experiencing elsewhere.

“The thought of having to progress from silly little fresher to a student with more than one exam to revise for feels almost as intimidating as becoming a fresher in the first place”

Over the course of my first two terms here, though, I have slowly learnt how to be a Cambridge student. It’s not just learning to meal plan, it’s also learning how to handle your stack of deadlines and many more stacks of secondary reading, right from week one. So, having undergone a chrysalis-like Michaelmas and Lent, my annual period of reflection has coincided beautifully with both the sun’s arrival and my preparations for my final term as a Cambridge fresher.

The newfound optimism with which I’m viewing my academic prospects is not, of course, without a somewhat crippling fear of losing my fresher label. Whilst overwhelmingly terrifying at first, I have grown to love being new here. My invisible fresher nametag makes me feel protected from the true extent of academic pressure – a comfortable, reassuring shield, that sounds an awful lot like “It’s fine! First year doesn’t count anyway!” As an English fresher, I think I’m right to be not quite so intimidated by my single exam this year than my heavily plighted lawyer and medic friends. Still, the thought of having to progress from silly little fresher to a student with more than one exam to revise for feels almost as intimidating as becoming a fresher in the first place.

But that’s a worry to think about in eight weeks’ time. For now, the sun is back, and everyone’s exams are still weeks away. The new Tesco express in town is just begging to provide the £3.40 Clubcard price meal deals for all our summer picnic plans. The freshers have grown up, and we’re well on our way to becoming actual functioning students. ABBA’s ‘Slipping Through My Fingers’ plays in the background. We are ready for our last term before college parenthood. Welcome, everyone, to the disgustingly optimistic outlook of a soon-no-more Cambridge fresher.