The return to Southampton

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The return to Southampton

Can you hear Southampton calling?[1]

The three months of the summer have passed, and we’re in the last two weeks before everyone starts trickling back to labs for our second year. Hopefully, we’re all clean, tidy and refreshed; although I doubt it. It’s more likely that we, or at least I, have forgotten the work and coursework and sweat and fast food and people and programming and complaining loudly about mysterious compiler errors[3], that awaits us when we step in through the doorway into labs.

But it won’t be new to us. We’d have seen it before, and based on some of the tales we hear from the Nth years[4], we’ll have more work, more painful coursework, less free time[5]. But that doesn’t matter, because we’ll be back.

Of course, there’s a strong possibility that the person reading this could be a first year. That’s cool. Some of my best friends were first years.[7] The older years aren’t as scary as they seem initially. Really.[8]

[1] In a metaphorical sense I hope. Unless you know some girl called “Southampton”, and who frequently calls you.[2]
[2] Please can I have her number? She sounds AWESOME.
[3] WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS BRACKET?! IT IS IDENTICAL TO ALL THE OTHERS!
[4] Now the (N+1)th years
[5] Basically every possible permutation of {painful, difficult, confusing, AWKWARD} x {work, coursework, exams, lectures, subjects}[6]
[6] See what you have done Discrete Maths? I’m making Cartesian product jokes.
[7] Of course, now they’re second years.
[8] I mean, I’m a second year, and I’m about as scary as a… radish?

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