Almost a year ago, I was lugging my suitcase through the entrance to Churchill College, and within hours I was being asked: "Did you apply here?" As a member of one of the more modern, hill colleges, it’s a question I get asked a lot. But let’s take some perspective on what life is actually like for those of us in the far reaches of town.

We’ll start with the obvious difference between the two types of college: appearance.

I won’t pretend that I don’t admire the beauty of the older colleges. King’s Chapel. Downing’s gorgeous layout. Emma’s little river for the ducks. Imagine getting to use the balcony at Caius, or walk across the rooftop at John’s. But let’s be honest about something else as well: in many respects, these colleges are poor. For all of the fairy-tale exteriors, the heating is still stuck in the same time period as the stuffy, extended graces at their formal halls. Not only that, but I can’t imagine walking into a castle and feeling at home. Perhaps it’s my middle-class upbringing, but the down to earth, brick walls of Churchill feel much more inviting to me.  

Up at the hill colleges, we also have these two little things called 'privacy' and 'quiet'. Sure, our buildings weren’t made in the first half of the previous millennium, but that also means very few tourists peer in through my window at 8 in the morning on a Saturday. Not once have I had an ogling middle-aged woman take a photo of me and my surroundings while I trudge to the library in sweat pants, or snap me as I walk back to my room after a shower. But walking through some of the central colleges, like St John’s or Kings, I find myself surrounded by tourists at all hours of the day.  

It’s true: that long walk into town seems bothersome when you’re waking up ten minutes earlier than your friends to get to lectures on time. But when the city centre gets too crowded, and your supervision has left you feeling like mushy peas, getting some distance from the bustling centre is actually very refreshing.

I didn’t think, during that initial cab ride up to college, about how I would be getting down to Cindies at 11pm on a Wednesday. But as it turns out, the late night walks have set the stage for some of my favourite Cambridge memories – be it deciding to climb a street post, realising just how impractical a cardboard outfit is, or finishing an entire bottle on the 25-minute journey just because you can’t take it into a club. And on a night out, the walk is actually a great test of sobriety – to see if you should really be trusted to dance at all.

But let’s consider the distance from a new perspective. In an odd way, being outside of the city centre pushes members of the hill colleges to get to know each other more intimately. Because few people want to risk getting lost on the way into town, there are almost always people sitting in the college bar. Although my college is relatively large, I know almost everyone in my year, and a lot of those in the years above as well. You might call it a forced community feeling. But hey, it’s always nice to have a little family away from home.

As a matter of fact, no, I didn’t apply to Churchill. But now I’m overjoyed that I ended up there. Give me the brick walls, the warm rooms and the community any day over the pomposity of extended graces and the nuisance of rampaging tourists.