The one-day essay is surely a Cambridge tradition. It is certainly a personal one. My essays are due on Sundays, and the all nighters of Saturday have led my friends to dub my weekend the “Dillon Edwards one-day-weekend”, something I am shamefully proud of.

The use of the word ‘weekend’ is the first point; an essay cannot be done in one day. It is done in a day and a night, which is why 7am is the time when your skin feels broken, your mind maddeningly awake and your eyes so, so dry. The stunted conversation with the man who comes to clean the library before any sane student is awake is done on auto-drive.

This brings me to the second essential of the one-day essay. Drugs. Personally, I’ve never had it in me to try Aderall or any of that prescription stuff, let alone anything, er, illicit (looking at you, economist-cum-future-city-boys). I stick to my one true love. She’s dark, mysterious, elegant, and smooth. Those adjectives, however, soon wear away. Cup one I find to be delicious, just as I’m settling in for the night, feeling confident. By cup two I’m worried. It tastes different – the pack says one spoonful for a strong coffee, so three is, of course, the Cambridge classic. Then we move on to my true favourites. Energy drinks. They even come in weird cans that make you feel like you’re an absolute maniac for buying them. And then there’s Monster Rehab, wow. These guys have made a drink that is both soothing, refreshing, and also wakes you the hell up. By my second one of these bad boys (what the hell is Taurine?) I feel like a warrior/paranoid lab-rat.

One of the interesting things about caffeine is that it is a drug of ups and downs. This is why you need other people. When you’re wired in, powering through, being productive, listening to Duran Duran (what?), then you can trust the stuff. But sometimes it goes too far. Sometimes I reach the perilous stage: being hyper.

You know this is the case if you a) find yourself £16 down on a game of paper toss b) are having a procastinatory 3am session on Omegle or c) are dancing in the library to 80s synth-pop.

Luckily this all wears off, reaching an interesting caffeine low that is the perfect time for another drink (don’t blame me if I sneak a tad of whiskey in it). You may at this point have found yourself talking to the other only person in the library in a really deep, meaningful, pensive way. And then there’s the panic phase, when you realise its 6am and you haven’t done anything since 3am and your mind feels like its dead, only being pumped alive with steroids and caffeine like some Frankenstein’s monster.

The third imperative is surely not to read any books. I mean, seriously, who reads books? They’re long. And boring. And really, really, really long. My tactic is to check if the book has a “conclusion” section. This is the only section worth reading. If it doesn’t, then don’t bother (“It wasn’t in the college library, Dr Supervisor, and someone had taken it out of the UL, promise”). If it’s an academic essay, then BOOM, straight to that abstract and, of course, final paragraph. Thank you very much.  

Finally, DO NOT check. Reading through something you’ve already written is the worst idea. Having stared at a screen this long, you literally cannot understand English. Just go. To. Bed.

Bed, of course, will feel like its made of silk and velvet and cashmere and you’ve just discovered the most amazing sleeping position: at one with the bed.