As a King’s Street resident and an infamously nosy woman, I love looking at buses, mainly because I am fascinated by the way that buses in Cambridge heroically (or foolishly) pretend that the city is in any way at all accessible. This goes double for the open-top tour bus, which is probably my favourite part of the whole city. I love how, in taking a bus tour, you manage to miss most of the really iconic landmarks of the city – King’s College Chapel, John’s Chapel, King’s Parade Nero – because they’re in pedestrianised areas. Brilliant.

What’s the point of the bus tour anyway? Where does it go? Can you feasibly use it as a commuter bus? And, most importantly, does it always survive that tight corner on Sidney Street without smashing into a poor Trinmo exiting their accom? Luckily for you, I’m a graduate who, faced with a load of free time and very little dignity, has decided to ride the blasted thing all day and report back with wisdom learned.

“My carriage pulled out and swerved violently onto Downing Street, nearly killing a cyclist”

I am no stranger to the concept of the open-top bus. I’ve both ridden one (in Paris, where the audio stopped working and I instead had to listen to 30 minutes worth of the same repeated 30 seconds of ‘Les Champs-Élysées’), and nearly been murdered by one (York. Don’t ask). So when I hopped aboard the bright red city sightseeing bus at 10.10 A.M. prompt, I knew exactly what I was doing. Anyone who knows anything about open top bus tours knows that the top deck is where the real ones sit, and trust, I was sat. Cheap complimentary plastic headphones on, and arms and shoulders appropriately sun-creamed up (it was about 23 degrees the day I rode the bus, and with my pasty complexion, I didn’t fancy taking any chances), and I was ready to jet off.

As we started our intrepid (read: terrifying) journey from Silver Street, I saw a group of tourists walking with an umbrella-wielding guide. Plebs, I thought to myself, as my carriage pulled out and swerved violently onto Downing Street, nearly killing a cyclist. The thrill of being on a very large vehicle on very pedestrianised roads was almost so thrilling that it blocked out most of the audio giving me information about the Museum of Archeology and Anthropology.

"The tour on the website had promised ‘the typical English lifestyle’, and they were certainly delivering that"

By the time we got to our third destination, Chesterton Lane and Jesus College, I’d managed to calm myself down. Not that the journey hadn’t been entertaining; from my vantage point upon the top deck, I’d already had the pleasure of watching a hungover student throw up ¾ of a Gardies kebab on the pavement. Well, the tour on the website had promised ‘the typical English lifestyle’, and they were certainly delivering that.

Since I’d decided to do the trip on a Monday, I thankfully avoided having to go down Trinity Street or Market Street, as I don’t think my heart (or underpants) could withstand that much stress. The journey from Jesus Lane to Hills Road was fairly peaceful, punctuated by tinny trivia and canned classical music. I was starting to find my zen, despite being sat directly in front of a small child who was threatening to reverse years of damage from sitting wonkily in library chairs by kicking my back until my spine rearranged itself. A free chiropractic session? Just my luck.

“I tried crossing the road to get home and was nearly flattened by my ex-ride”

By the time we were whizzing past the Fitzwilliam Museum (and nearly offing a gaggle of tourists), I was really starting to chill right out. I’d spent the past three years of my time here rushing around for one reason or another, and now finally I was really able to just be a tourist in my own city, sit back, and marvel at the history. Or at least I would, if I hadn’t started to get incredibly carsick (or should it be bussick?). At one point, as we zoomed down Queen’s Road, nearly taking out the front window of Kettle’s Yard, I thought I was going to do some extremely sloppy, and gross damage to some Medwards rowers cycling below.

Fortunately, I managed to recover myself just in time for our visit to the American Cemetery and Memorial, which I admit I didn’t know existed. It was actually really nice to get out of the city centre and explore new sights like this. By the time we trundled back to our start point, I was genuinely sad to get off – at least until I tried crossing the road to get home and was nearly flattened by my ex-ride. Oh well.

Should you ride the Cambridge open top tour bus? The answer is, for 14 quid for a student ticket, and with the whole city being so pedestrianised, probably not. I spent most of my journey either fearing for my life, the driver’s life, or the life of some poor unfortunate cyclist who dared to get near us. The tour was fairly bog standard, especially for a student who’s done enough open days to be able to recite vast swathes of information about the city in their sleep. However, what the tour did do for me was remind myself that sometimes it’s good to be a shameless tourist in my own city. I’ve spent three years in Cambridge either running around, scoffing that it’s ‘just another city’, or spending it holed up in my college courts, and sometimes all you need is a little reminder that it’s a pretty impressive place. Just maybe don’t try this if you’re easily buscarsick.