My Daily Routine at Cambridge

So a lot of people have been asking me lately: “Joe, what’s your daily routine like now you’re studying at Cambridge?”¹ And I say to them, “Oh, you know,” which seems about as much info as it’s safe to give in these trying and dangerous times.

However, I have taken a moment to ponder and am now in a position to tell the world, through the medium of blog, about the extremely exciting and interesting events which make up my daily routine now I am studying at Cambridge “University”.

 

0800. Wake up. (I’m starring this as *important* because when I forget, it puts a real dampener on the whole day.)

0805. Check that the spider in the corner of the bathroom is where it usually is and hasn’t moved.

0806. (IF spider is in usual place) – do a wee.

Alt 0806. (IF spider is NOT in usual place) – panic.

0810. (IF spider is in usual place) – eat breakfast. I always have Cookie Crisp – mummy says it’s too sugary and I shouldn’t have it, but she’s not here now is she?

Alt 0810. (IF spider is NOT in usual place) – continue panicking.

0830 (IF spider is in usual place) – finish breakfast (just by the way mummy if you’re reading this I don’t, I have porridge every day just like you taught me I promise).

Alt 0830. (IF spider is NOT in usual place) – panic wildly. Turn all furniture upside down to check for spider. Go outside, gather conkers, place them in all parts of the flat. Make necklace of conkers; wear at all times. Don beekeeping suit. Put entire packet of Cookie Crisp (porridge) in bag. Rush to lectures.

 

You may be thinking “Wow! Cambridge University looks gorgeous!” but I actually didn’t have time to find a picture of Cambridge University so I have used a picture of Oxford University instead.

 

0900. Lectures. A lot of people think lectures are for listening to, making notes and taking on board some big ideas about things. For me they are mainly about eating Cookie Crisp and explaining to the people around me why I am wearing a beekeeper suit.

1200. That’s enough lectures. Back home.

1230. Lunch. (It is Cookie Crisp.)

1330. Supervision. This is a really cool thing about Cambridge. Every week you get given a book title and then the following week you go to a discussion with a professor where you have to pretend to have read the book. It is a very elaborate farce but it’s all part of the Cambridge tradition.

My main tip for navigating supervisions is to use the following three phrases:

1.  In many ways, it seems the author is actually doing exactly what (s)he claims not to be doing here.
2. In many ways, it seems the author is actually doing exactly what (s)he⁴ claims to be doing here.
3. In many ways, it seems the author doesn’t really want us to know what (s)he’s doing here.

These three sentences can be applied (with, of course, immense subtlety and guile) to more or less all passages of all books. In the event you really totally use the wrong one, you can often row it back with – “Yes – but don’t you think in a way the author, by appearing to do the opposite of what (s)he claims to be doing, is actually doing exactly what (s)he claims to be doing?” Professors go absolutely wild for this.

 

1500. That’s enough supervision. Time to head home.

1530. Check on spider. Find more conkers.

1600. I should write some essay at this point, but after all those lectures and supervisions and stuff I’m quite tired so I may just play 2013 indie classic video game Papers Please on my laptop for a little bit.

2000. Just noticed I’ve been playing 2013 indie classic Papers Please for four hours.

2005. Play a bit more.

2100. Just remembered I have a wife (Sophia). Check on her. She is fine. Make dinner because it’s my turn today.

2130. Serve dinner.

2135. Explain for the umpteenth time that Cookie Crisp casserole is a thing.

2200. Finish dinner. Yikes. Haven’t got much essay done today. Sit down and really start to thrash out some ideas.

2230. Have not yet thrashed out any ideas.

2245. Text friend: “Word count still at zero lol. Absolutely CLASSIC me lol.”

2300. Cry.

2305. Drink some wine (left over from my wedding).

2310. Inhale some helium (also left over from my wedding).

2315. Remember that neither alcohol nor helium is in any way conducive to essay-writing.

2320. Cry.

2345. That’s enough crying now. Let’s go to bed.

2350. Remove beekeeping suit.

2355. The spider is on my pillow.

0000. Put beekeeper suit back on. Sleep.

 

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¹ Needless to say, absolutely nobody has asked me this.²

² Hey, d’you like this new footnoting thing I’ve got going on? It’s something we academics do. I’d explain it to you but you probably wouldn’t understand.³

³ I also do footnotes within footnotes, because I’m very advanced.

⁴ I am not sure why I keep writing “(s)he” given that obviously all the texts we study at Cambridge are written by men.