New Year in Cambridge

As I sit down to write about how I spent the first few days of 2016, I am shocked that we are already halfway through January. I find I have been experiencing time at a tremendously accelerated rate because it feels as though I was only just in Cambridge enjoying the countdown to midnight on New Year's Eve.

Jeremy and I left the North and headed down to Cambridge a few days before the new year. We had already spent a week together over Christmas and we decided to further test our ability to get along over a longer period of time. We spent the first day walking around the city and braving the rainy, cold weather before heading home for a much needed cup of tea. Jeremy is lucky to live with some very awesome housemates, Bobbie and Lyra. Bobbie is rather mischievous it must be said. She has been known to commit regular homicide and Lyra has an addiction to the television. I should probably explain that Bobbie and Lyra aren't entirely human. Bobbie is a cat and Lyra is a golden retriever. Spending the week with them was really a lot of fun. I was missing the companionship of the furry variety and both Bobbie and Lyra were very willing to fill the gap.

A view from the top deck of the bus heading into Cambridge.

We stopped off at Benets and had truly delicious milkshakes. 

Bobbie tackling a particularly difficult itch...either that or she's doing a pirate impression.

We spent New Year's Eve day walking to the large Tesco and carrying provisions for a merry evening back the twenty minute walk. I had originally wanted to go out and welcome 2016 with a large dinner and several glasses of wine and champagne. As the day wore on, however, we both realised that staying in, baking cookies, watching Star Wars: A New Hope and then turning on the telly at ten seconds to midnight was far more our speed. To be fair, I had procured a bottle of Prosecco while at the shops earlier and so as the crowds around the London Eye counted down to the brand new year, we toasted, drank, and then promptly went to bed.

Jeremy's brother and sister got me these awesome dinosaur cookie cutters and we just had to try them. (Also I bought myself a hipster camera that takes polaroids.)

Um...so they didn't exactly turn out all that well.

One of my Christmas presents was a pair of tickets to see Sherlock at the cinema on Christmas Day. We headed into the city for a lovely dinner at a Mediterranean restaurant called Olive Grove before the film. I cannot describe the moment we walked into the theatre and discovered that every single seat was a recliner. I instantly became five years old and kept raising and lowering the seat. I was so shocked and delighted by the whole thing. Finally, the lights dimmed and I set my chair in a deep recline and settled in to watch the exploits of Holmes and Watson play out over the screen. I think I was most touched by the gentle nods to previous incarnations of the great detective. Here the musical motif from the Jeremy Brett era, here lines taken directly from Conan Doyle's texts, there a cinematic re-imagining of a scene from Young Sherlock Holmes. I suppose it makes me feel clever when I notice those things, but it's also just a lovely reminder of the tremendous body of work dedicated to Sherlock Holmes, one of my favourite fictional characters.

Living in the lap of luxury.

The week passed on. Jeremy had to work on Saturday and Sunday and so I took the time to catch up on my own work which I had put somewhat on hold for the holidays. Emails were sent, papers were read, and arrangements moved forward for my fieldwork. Sunday evening, I took the bus into the city. Emily and Sara from my time in Durham were both around Cambridge and we had arranged to have dinner and catch up. Jeremy met us at the restaurant and we spent such a lovely few hours together. Sitting together chatting about Durham, Robin, our lectures, the pub quizzes, and hearing about what everyone was up to now just felt so good. It felt easy. It was like we hadn't ever been out of touch, as though we were back to two years ago, just out for a meal before heading back to Ustinov.

The day before I was to leave, Jeremy and I decided to take the train to Ely. It's only twenty minutes from Cambridge and I had never been there and Jeremy hadn't been in ages. We took a 12:30 train and stopped to get lunch before taking a tour of the cathedral. We decided to splurge and pay for the tower tour in addition to the normal entry fee. It was very much worth it for the views and the amusing guide. The sun was just beginning to set when we reached the top of the tower and the light was turning soft and purple. By the time we had climbed back down and wandered through the rest of the cathedral, it was dark outside.

We walked along the canal to get into the center of town. There were some great views of the cathedral.

We also met a flock of some very...interesting looking ducks.

Ely Cathedral

The inside of the cathedral tower with wooden beams some dating back to the 1300s.

The Victorian stained glass windows in the tower.

The original ceiling. The paint has been restored but the design is as it always was.

Angels in a band.

We were a bit high up...

The sunset from the top of the tower.

I do enjoy grotesques.

This bishop looks to have been a bit of a lounge lizard during his life.

Probably the most beautiful Christmas tree I've ever seen.

As we walked back to the station, holding hands, it occurred to me how happy I was. How happy I had been over the past two weeks. I hadn't really felt any anxiety (which I tend to feel most days in Leicester), I hadn't been really upset, depressed nor short-tempered. I had just felt comfortable and content. And save for a dangerous moment of hanger back in York, Jeremy and I hadn't gotten on each others' nerves. In fact, there had been a tonne of laughter over the past two weeks.

I was sad thinking about getting on a plane the next morning. As I thought about the journey, pangs of anxiety began to resonate through me. I didn't want to leave the comfortable, warm place I was in mentally and emotionally. At the same time, the thought of going home, of seeing my friends and family (and ferrets!) was pulling at another set of heartstrings. That pull of place that ex-pats know only too well; the feeling of needing to be in two places at once in order to feel complete. Though I was sad to wake up from the beautiful dream I was in, I knew I'd be waking up to find myself in yet another wonderful dream before eventually having to wake up to the cold harsh reality of Leicester and my PhD.