As I head into my third year, I’m beginning to panic. The search for employment, the dissertation planning and the increasingly tempting idea of a panic Masters are all making me confront the reality: this is my last year at Cambridge.

It is quite intimidating to know that this Bridgemas formal will be, for many, our last. Our last May Balls, C-Sundays, Fridays at La Raza and a collection of other squeaky-floored nights out. On the other hand, we also know that this is the last year to prove ourselves academically, to master that piece of coursework and to send off that graduate career application. With the world of work and responsibility edging closer, that extra hour is uncomfortably more tempting and missing 9am lectures may simply not be an option anymore.

While I sympathise with the desire to maximise the teaching and studying resources that Cambridge has to offer, I have considerably less sympathy for those who no longer choose to have fun. I witnessed it with many now-graduated friends, and even in a small handful of particularly locked-in second years, who refused to go out or partied only on the rarest of occasions. Don’t get me wrong, these individuals have many qualities I respect: ambition, excellent time management, a commitment to their goals and a drive to do better. But on the other hand, I saw many of them pulling their hair out over unrealistic objectives, losing contact with many of their closest friends and becoming overall more stressed and alienated.

“I have considerably less sympathy for those who no longer choose to have fun”

The return of September and the subsequent approach of application season makes me resonate with this behaviour more and more so. I, too, feel the need to hunker down in the dusty corner of some half-forgotten library and pretend that alcohol doesn’t exist. But this simply won’t do.

Cambridge is unique, and so is our social life. We should stop pretending that the only function of this university is to establish ourselves professionally, network, and grind out Firsts like we’re Michael Phelps. We love a Wednesday, we love a Sunday, we’re forced to love black tie and we generally adore a bottle of the Wild Valley. We even quite like a college bop with an average attendance of 13, questionable themes and terrible music that should – objectively – suck. Whatever your opinion on Cambridge nightlife is, you cannot deny the obvious rarity of many of our typical nights out. There aren’t many places where you can watch amateur theatre in an Anglican chapel, meet friends in a 14th century college cellar and finish the night cycling past urban cows and, for us Selwynites, the Mathematical Bridge. Despite the general annoyance of tourists, (sorry King’s students) they do often remind me that people come from far and wide just to glimpse what we live on a daily basis.

For the many of you still unconvinced, I’ve done some research. An investigation led by a variety of academics determined that academic performance (measured as GPA) rises as social relations, in moderation, are forged in an educational environment such as schools or universities. This is largely because socialisation engenders better mental health, mutual support from similarly motivated individuals, and introduces one to diverse perspectives and opportunities for collaboration. I understand Cambridge is bred for those who thrive in the pressure, but this can both coexist, and possibly be improved by enjoying what Cambridge has to offer with friends.

“You don’t want to look back in 40 years’ time and remember hours spent in the UL”

It would be naive to assume that socialisation is not complicated and variegated between individuals. It is often incredibly expensive and tailored towards those who drink alcohol, or enjoy clubbing. For those who do not drink alcohol, struggle with highly social situations or have no interest in the pub, Cambridge may have less to offer. I recognise this. However, this does not mean that time cannot be spent in more private quarters, or in green spaces and sites like Jesus lido (although perhaps not in Michaelmas term!). We also have a great theatre scene, that until recently I had not come to appreciate. Ultimately, it is about spending time with those whose company we enjoy. Becoming a hermit in our final year could be detrimental, and may end up a deep regret later in life.

So as we lock in for our final year, I implore you to still have fun. I implore you to enjoy that final formal dinner, that drunk-but-not-quite-drunk-enough commute to revs and even the more ordinary activities, like making dinner with friends. You don’t want to look back in 40 years’ time and remember hours spent in the UL, when you could remember time shared with friends watching the St John’s fireworks on Castle Mound.

And for anyone wondering, no. This article is *not* sponsored by Cindies.