Beyond the monotonous study rooms and dull blocks which could be Sidgwick, West Site or HMP – beyond even the smug, decadent college façades, or ornamented chapels perceived universally as “the sights of Cambridge” – lie the streets and buildings which constitute my undergraduate city: the areas surrounding the town centre, which yield charming Victorian houses and low, cow-filled Anglian meadows, enveloped in blue sky on clear days. I am talking about the breathable Grange Road and Grantchester, Castle Hill, Grafton Way and Mill Road, Chesterton, and so on, which all lay in stark contrast to central Cambridge – where even pedestrian streets are trafficky, pints are £7, and you wind up knowing bloody everyone.

“To live somewhere is to be a local”

It’s essential that students find time to escape the confines of the city centre, for a simple reason: university is a first shot at living somewhere, and establishing one’s place within a community away from home. To live somewhere is to be a local; to intimately know street names and spots of beauty, and reap the rewards of exploration (to taste good food in the Free Press garden, for example, or the Chicken Taouk at Kan Zaman, or experience the thrill of a Burleigh Street charity shop hunt).

This may all sound a bit pompous, and you may have no regard for my adulatory lavishings on suburban Cambridge, nor my gastronomic fanaticism. That said, the importance of witnessing less-trodden parts of the city pertains concretely to those who live in accommodation outside of Market Ward, for whom it is a matter of political duty: for students who exercise their right to vote in Cambridgeshire council elections, it’s certainly of note that – to give an example – the governing council for those living in St. John’s College is Castle Ward, which extends to the north rather than to the centre of Cambridge. It’s farcical to vote for your local councillors without seeing local neighbourhoods, noticing the quality of the roads perhaps, and participating in the ebb and flow of the local economy – what’s more, neglecting parts of the city can lend itself to blanket party-based voting, which is insensitive to the specificities of individual councils. I wouldn’t wish to omit another moral duty, that of supporting local businesses rather than the standard corporate titans who dominate the high streets of the centre.

Civic incitements aside, venturing away from Market Square can have huge personal benefit: the outskirting corners of the city provide an escape from the relentless sense of routine, an unavoidable part of studying here, reinforced by the familiar sights of ‘Cambridge life’. Limiting oneself to the same walking routes, study spots and meals does nothing to alleviate the burden of tripos, nor does it soothe the intensity of college social scenes. On the contrary, Coe Fen is a quiet haven where deadlines and occasions and anxieties slip seamlessly away, and the Carpenter’s Arms might be the perfect place for a drink after a hard day’s work.

To many of you I’m sure all this is utterly familiar, and your knowledge of peripheral and picturesque Cambridge extends far beyond mine. The city is like a home to me; I hope this is a fairly universal feeling. However, the message remains important, particularly for those joining the university soon: we are only here so long – leave no stone unturned.