Over the course of the exam period, I, like many humanities students found myself becoming a more frequent visitor to the Sidgwick site than ever before. Yet the allure of a stint in the English Faculty Library to continue an ongoing battle with my Shakespeare portfolio only goes so far. The course of hard work never did run smooth, and so I inevitably find myself wandering to the central lawn.

In light of the excellent Varsity guide to People Watching, it has come to my humble attention that there are several common specimens found in this environment. Perhaps this list of Sidgwick’s star-studded cast can be used as light entertainment, a bingo to check off on your study break.

The Barefoot

The Barefoot. At first glance I thought this was a one off-sighting, but the ranks of the shoeless are growing by the day. I’m all for getting in touch with nature, but it’s not the 70s, and spreading peace and love comes from baring your soul, not your soles. Now, this may be controversial, but I’d happily see more sporting of socks and sandals to counteract this epidemic. The foot has become too freely exposed.

Boots

On a contradictory note, never have I seen so many boots. If you dare to turn up to Sidge in trainers or anything so casual, you immediately become persona non grata. Whilst this trend is undeniably fashionable, I’ve spoken to the cows by the mill and they are devastated and making their way over in protest.

Uni-flyer friend group.

An impossibly happy species. Usually found right in the centre of the lawn in a perfect circular formation, laughing incessantly, begging for a hidden photographer to capture their winning smiles. I have my suspicions these groups are holograms engineered by the university, but who knows, maybe 10+ people can get along swimmingly?

“In the words of recent #camfession45704, this is not a nunnery”

Side note: should any of the members of this group at any point wish to drop the constant enthusiasm, I would like to reassure them there will always be a sarcastic onlooker in the wings, ready to spur on any negativity.

White skirt warriors

Another unavoidable fashion fixture; though I must admit, as a fan of linen, my hypocrisy is rife on this one.These are undeniably a summer staple, but the proliferation of the white maxi skirt has arguably gone too far. In the words of recent #camfession45704, this is not a nunnery, and the threshold before this look warrants trad-wife comparisons is almost maxed out. Perhaps a tie-dye renaissance is needed to switch things up here; the world of wardrobe choices is wide and at your disposal.

Performative book carriers

Each day without fail, I witness another optimistic individual defying the need for a tote bag, balancing a comically large stack of books on their travels between the libraries. Unless this is part of your training for an act at Cirque du Soleil, this all feels a little performative. May I point you to the wondrous inventions of iDiscover and JSTOR? Lest you forget, we are living in a digital age, and whatever academic peacocking is going on here, it is best kept for the confines of your own library. Please don’t bring it into the open air.

“Last week I stumbled across a finger-picking, dungaree-wearing Ed Sheeran wannabe”

Imposters

I’m not just talking about the rogue STEM students who have drifted over from West Site. I’m thinking of a more cunning enemy in our midst. Just when you’d managed to forget their subject was even classed as a humanity, the booming voice of an economist wafts over the green, reminding you of their eternal, regrettable presence. In true Jaden Smith style, the discussion of the political and economic state of the world is never out of earshot, and the finance bro is hard to shake.

Guitar players

A more endangered breed. Got to see it to believe it, but last week I stumbled across a finger-picking, dungaree-wearing Ed Sheeran wannabe, sitting proudly on the grass, displaying their craft to all. Vis-a-vis point number 1, this is not Woodstock – as much as music is the food of love (the impending threat of Shakespeare coursework strikes again), I would rather it did not play on. Hearing you take us through ‘Blackbird’ one more time only breeds hate within me.

On that note, I’m out, as the library beckons me back into its gloomy folds. Luckily, I know these trusty characters will continue to plague the lawn in my absence, and so I hand the baton to you, dear reader. The ever-revolving cast of Sidgewick awaits you. Happy hunting.