My anxious fingers itch to deploy classic word count beefer-uppers: “furthermore”, “moreover”, “nevertheless”. Long-form writing requirements look unachievable without gentle padding - mammoth tasks demanding concentration, commitment and critical thinking: a holy trinity in short supply as of late.

Supervision essays on Oedipus’s serious mummy issues and desperate attempts to cobble together the muddled beginnings of my dissertation have taken their toll: I can barely string a sentence together, let alone a coherent thought. My diss looks at literature’s juiciest novels (for research purposes) and asks whether oranges are a common symbol for homosexuality. Sure, English may sometimes seem like a joke, but it offers a fruitful lesson: big projects become more palatable when broken into bite-sized chunks. There’s clarity to be found in taking things a slice at a time.

It’s not all Greek to me anymore

Once every three years, a ritual occurs: Cambridge’s keenest thesps put on the Greek Play. The double bill is performed entirely in ancient Greek, and as such I set out to attend purely for the sake of my studies, dreading two hours of subtitle squinting. But my fears were unfounded: Persians, its tragic half, was moving in its glamour and intensity, and the hilarity of Cyclops, an otherworldly and surprisingly phallic comedy, was not remotely lost in translation.

Quite the opposite: this alien language washed over us, even as technical issues meant we sat through the first ten minutes with no subtitles for guidance. We giggled as a distraught stage manager intervened, but were soon plunged back into the majesty of the spectacle, which stuck with me beyond my brief time in the stalls. I felt connected to a time-honoured tradition, and left the theatre feeling lighter and happier. Ah, catharsis.

We both live near rivers: we share some common ground, or water, in our separate lives

Three years together, apart

Living parallel lives can be dizzying. After my partner visited last week, I was reminded of how much of our relationship has been spent far from one another. As term ramped back into gear, I found myself overwhelmed by reading lists, opening nights, long afternoons at The Eagle, and strolls by the Cam. He, on the other hand, was occupied by job interviews, apartment viewings, bustling kitchens, and dog walks along the River Stour. We both live near rivers: we share some common ground, or water, in our separate lives.

I only hope that by when (if!) we reach our fourth anniversary, we’ll finally get to share a double bed full-time. Frankly, I refuse to divide my college-mandated single bed between the two of us. It’s a fate no self-respecting human being should have to endure. I look forward to sharing my week, and the comfort of lying on a mattress side by side, with him when this year is through.

Working congregation

Bubbles fizzed as I poured prosecco at my college congregation. Cheerful graduates walked over to a reception table lined with uniformly neat rows of rosy macaroons, cherry-red tomatoes on cocktail sticks and miniature sandwiches. There’s beauty to be found in symmetry. Their eyes glistened with excitement and fulfilment, expensive watches sparkling on many a wrist. My gaze was drawn away from glitzy displays of early-career success (or generous gifts) and towards their parents: near mirror images of their children, but older, greyer, prouder — two pieces of the same puzzle.

I think ahead to my graduation, only a year away now, and my own fantasy begins to form. A hazy image draws itself in my mind: sunlight shines across the cricket field, my parents stand beside me. In lieu of a college waistcoat and tie, I’m wearing a white blouse and gown. Instead of serving drinks, I’ll be saying goodbye to Cambridge for the final time.

Things that have pissed me off this week

The beauty of writing is that you can share your joy with the world. The beauty of whinging is that you can have a good old moan.

With that in mind, here are some things that have pissed me off this week, in no particular order: being sworn at by rude cyclists, the queue for the ARC cafe, spilling coffee on my white trousers, the itchiness of contact lenses, mornings, alarm clocks, eduroam, watching my freshly bought avocado fall out of my bike basket only to be annihilated by the tyre of an overtaking car, a Sainsburys’ soy milk shortage, Taylor Swift, not understanding politics, damp washing, having to buy a new bike lock (£40), the endless rain, the Doctor Who season finale, Twitter, Truss.