I was once told I have the energy of an old and wise tree. As such, allow me to offer some past wisdom to present freshers, straight from the Varsity archives.

To seek useful advice for today’s freshers, I’ve explored the way we welcomed new students in the past. In doing so, I found out that this had already been done: in the 1990 Michaelmas Edition, “Aunty Verity Varsity” gave advice to freshers from past Varsity issues, including: “Be friendly. The frigid Miss retains her dignity and her own company” (1951) and “Do for heaven’s sake be clean. Wash, wash, wash, both self and home” (1959).

“You have to realise that all the guides you have received are, to put it simply, full of lies”

Interestingly, guiding freshers has been a ritual for as long as freshers have existed. Varsity’s 2004 Freshers’ Guide modestly claims: “you have to realise that all the guides you have received are, to put it simply, full of lies.” They set out to offer, as an alternative: “the only guide to Freshers’ week you will need”. The advice-givers are strikingly aware that they are contributing a grain of sand to a monstrously large pile, and often resort to humour.

2004’s Freshers’ issue went on giving freshers insightful advice about what to bring: “Forget the reading list, forget the books, forget your clothes. Alcohol is by far the most important thing to bring to Cambridge.” The article also mentions that: “coffee is another important thing to bring, along with cigarettes. If you don’t drink coffee or smoke cigarettes, it’s probably best to start sooner rather than later, otherwise you will look out of place with your clean teeth and calm demeanour.”

Over the years, the recommendations don’t just cover what to bring, but also what to do. In 2002, Varsity offered a very specific guide of activities to do around Cambridge. Unfortunately, it is mostly outdated, and you can no longer “go to Po Na Na for a bootylicious party”. Despite this, the spirit and conclusion of the article still ring true: “Cambridge may not be a big mamma, but there’s a lot of choice out there. Trust me, you won’t get bored. You won’t have time.”

“Have as much fun as you can this week; the inevitable anti-climax is really nothing to worry about”

Guidance to new students also covers two of the Freshers’ Week staples, which make for satisfying alliterations: the Freshers’ Fair and the fresher’s flu. The former is victim to mockery, described in 2002 as “the domain of lollipops, pens, and other tacky shit”. It was also the battlefield of the unofficial society acronyms competition, where “the Cambridge University Music Service,” the “Trinitarians Organising Relief for Yanks and The War Against Terror and Saddam” and the “Cambridge Higher Education Entertainment Syndicate of Ents-officers” competed for victory.

The latter is mentioned in 2003, reassuring audiences that despite the vast numbers affected there was still hope: “It seems the time for painting plague crosses on our doors has not arrived yet.” As a survivor, I can testify the poetic observation of a 2003 college nurse still rings true: “It’s the nature of the beast, it thrives when we follow a bad diet and have little sleep.”

“Acknowledging the bittersweetness and vulnerability that comes with being a fresher is the first step in creating this new exciting and terrifying life for yourself”

Despite all the humorous practical guidance, the most useful is that which touches on how one feels as a fresher: 2004 described Freshers’ Week as “a potage of trepidation, excitement and profound boredom”. Through some distinctly 2000s Varsity cocky humour (something I’ve just discovered too) the article urges to take some pressure off Freshers’ Week, reminding the reader that they have multiple years ahead of them to make friends and drunken mistakes. “After [Freshers’ Week] you emerge in the drabness of East Anglian autumn with the burden of work rapidly augmenting, still having to nurture precariously budding friendships. […] Have as much fun as you can this week; the inevitable anti-climax is really nothing to worry about.”

From all my research, it seems the wiser words come from the intuition of a fresher herself. In 2002, Judith writes: “I have to believe that underneath all the neuroses that go with being a fresher is the knowledge that, however nervous I may be feeling, there are others who are just as nervous as I am”

For the archivists and freshers of the future, let this be my contribution to the freshers’ advice pile. At the core of the fresher experience – and its dedicated week – lies a fascinating paradox: it can be a very alienating and lonely time, despite being an inherently collective experience. Acknowledging the bittersweetness and vulnerability that comes with being a fresher is the first step in creating this new exciting and terrifying life for yourself.

Take the very fact former freshers go out of their way to reassure their successors each year: these articles are not just a few odd pages of questionable recommendations and jokes, they’re evidence of student empathy and solidarity.

Exploring how we’ve welcomed freshers throughout the years is a fascinating way to see how some things never change – new generations of frenzied freshers keep coming in – while others (thankfully) evolve, like Varsity’s sense of humour.