In second year, my then-housemates and I were discussing how quickly first year had whizzed by. In terms that we could really understand, we drew the most apt comparison we could think of: “If university was a cake, we’d be a third of the way through by now. That’s a lot of cake”.
Eating a third of a cake seems like a lot, doesn’t it? Well that’s nothing compared to chomping down on the whole thing, barely coming up for air, being so busy relishing in the chocolatey-goodness that you don’t realise that- wait- there’s only crumbs left now.
I’ve gotten through it all, the late night word counting and the early morning hungover note taking. It was a pretty bloody tasty cake, and I might not have enjoyed every morsel (I’m looking at you, second year exams), but it was all worth it. I’ve had the honour of being taught by experts, of meeting people who have changed my outlook, and of scoring 10% off at Topshop for the last three years. You can’t argue with that.
I finished my final exam yesterday. That’s it. No more lectures, no more assignments, no more cake. Now all I’ve got remaining of education is that final glass of champagne- ahem, graduation- to wash it all down with!