Rosie Best

We’ve officially hit the penultimate week of term and it’s beginning to look a lot like Bridgemas. I’m currently in three secret Santa groups, my room is draped in tinsel, my Amazon basket is brimming with presents for Cantab friends and it’s not even December yet. But what others deem a premature celebration, I call a healthy dose of the Bridgemas spirit. Forget the scrooges and have yourself a merry little Bridgemas this November.

Bridgemas time, formals and wine. Christmas formals are an undeniable perk of celebrating the Cambridge version of Christmas. While the usual formal entails weird food and impractical gowns, the Bridgemas version is a fest of ugly Christmas jumpers, turkey hats, mulled wine and classic Christmas food that no-one could dislike.

Bridgemas is an opportunity to celebrate Christmas with the friends we might not see over the holiday – sorry, I mean vacation. Bridgemas might be a whole month before the real thing but the early appearance of tinsel in our accommodation or cards in our pigeon holes should not be seen as a cause for irritation, but as the manifestation of the infectious Bridgemas spirit which, like a benevolent cold, is quick to pass from person to person.

On the first day of Bridgemas my supervisor sent to me…an essay. And on the second, and the third day. By the time we reach the eighth week of term the relentless cycle of work and supervisions has taken its toll and we’re all looking for the fairy lights at the end of the tunnel. Bridgemas marks an important milestone: the point at which we can begin to gleefully toboggan downhill towards the end of term. Without Bridgemas to look forward to we would surely emerge from Cambridge after Michaelmas withered and drooping, resembling a parched and neglected Christmas tree.

A Christmas tree without fairy lights, a Christmas dinner without sprouts; a term without Christmas would be both unnatural and miserable. This November I implore you not to be ashamed of your Bridgemas enthusiasm and, as even Scrooge eventually does, to embrace it.

Lana Crowe

And so this is Bridgemas. And what have you done? (Not enough work). Another year over (I’m not a teenager anymore… but in my twenties?!). And a new one just begun (OMG, I’m one year closer to graduating; I need to find out what a CV is and get a job and learn some real life skills). Reaching November 25th is but a reminder that the productive, active, healthy term you insisted you were going to have is a ghost of Michaelmas past.

I’m not against celebrating Christmas in college, but just suggesting – exactly like the queasy realisation after going one green triangle too far into the Quality Street tin – that you can have too much of a good thing. Once December has finally come upon us, and Advent is in full swing, crank up the Mariah Carey and bop to your festive heart’s content (though the desire to experience a sweaty bar packed with people in penguin jumpers is another issue altogether).

I’m no Grinch, but the whole commercialisation of Christmas is becoming too militant. We do not need to encourage it. ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside’? Erh, no, it’s mild. It’s November. That’s not to say all Christmas songs are inappropriate for Bridgemas. It will be lonely this Bridgemas… in the library. To quote the dulcet tones of The Pogues, you may well find yourself in the drunk-tank on Bridgemas eve. Before, of course, heading back to the grotto to work your Christmas-motif socks off, my little elves.

Let’s take a moment for a little reverie. It’s Bridgemas morning. You crawl out of bed, switch on your computer and peer coyly into your email inbox. Just as you expected, there’s a little something waiting for you. You take your time opening it, savouring the anticipation. You gasp. It’s just what you wanted. “Well done, Lana. Absolutely fantastic essay!” You shed a single tear of appreciation. It’s a Christmas miracle.

Yeah right. Christmas movies are always too good to be true.