
Mid February. For one night we return to Cambridge, along with most of those in our year group. Leave work early on the Friday, take the train up. Grab hot chocolates in our favourite cafe where we used to pass time between lectures, then half pints of Aspalls by the river. Hurry back to hotel rooms to get dressed for dinner. Dine in the hall, candlelight and polished silver. Head to the college bar, cheap drinks from plastic cups, old faces. Go out dancing, fill the dancefloor, all of us, make like it's 2006. Work, London, everything, a million miles away, forgotten, or not even happened yet.
The next morning we wake and wander, through mossy stoned colleges with elegant quadrangles, and the market with its striped awnings. Later, get dressed changed into our gowns, polished shoes, neat hair, greet parents, receive our MAs.
Overwhelmed with memories, remembering when this was my world.