I woke up bright and early today, packed my bag, and left the house at 07.00. I had £40 in my purse. I walked down to the bus stop by the Wheatsheaf pub, and waited 46 minutes for the number 12 bus to take me to Headcorn train station. The ticket was £3.40. There, I bought a return ticket to Bedford. That was £33.20. Said ticket allowed me to catch a train to London Bridge Station. Where Rachel rang me to find out where I was. And told me to get off and catch a train from King’s Cross Station. Thinking to myself that perhaps my planning and navigational skills may not necessarily be at par with her experience in the city, I decided to give this a go. I got myself to King’s Cross Station, and looked into buying a ticket direct to Cambridge. That was £18.10. Now, I’ve never been a whiz at maths… but somehow I didn’t think that was going to work for me. Worried that my remaining £3.40 wasn’t going to get me a ticket on the stagecoach from Bedford station to Cambridge, I had to ring Rachel and tell her I was going to Bedford and she was to pick me up from the station there. I arrived at Bedford around 12.00; and we got to Cambridge about a half-hour later. I would start complaining about the public transport system here, but Ash has some ridiculous story to tell about the ones in WA. And the photos to prove it. So I won’t complain just yet. Don’t even get me started on the cost.
Sigh! The dramas in my life!Okay. Cambridge. Very pretty. Very twee. Very dinky. Very pretentious. Very ‘shabby-chic’. Snobbery seem to abound. Lots of cute 1930s style black bicycles with wicker baskets. Kitch. Quaint. All that jazz. They have brochures that says things like: ‘Do not walk on the grass. However, senior members of the college and their guests may walk on the grass’. WTF? Can you imagine it? ‘You there! Yes you without a phD! Get off the grass!’ I won’t dispute that it’s a lovely place to spend one’s uni days that’s for sure. Lazy afternoons on the grass, barbeques on the weekends, punting and down the river. It all sounds and looked pretty wonderful. I must say though, it’s not as if we didn’t all do that when we were at uni. And when you take away the amazing architecture and history, all it is, really, is just another big university. Unfortunately for me, and perhaps, by association, you; I’m not particularly fascinated by architecture and this kind of history. I find it interesting – don’t get me wrong. Just not necessarily fascinating. For more information on Cambridge, speak to a history teacher or click here.
In the meantime, I had a really great time just spending the day with Rachel and Matt and one of Rachel’s friends, Ariel. I must say that as well as the company, it was also because of where I was. It actually felt like a weekend. I felt relaxed. People were busy, but they didn’t look rushed. And you need that around you when you’re trying to relax.Because most of Saturday was spent traveling, there wasn’t much of it left. We walked around the city a little, and went out for dinner at a Japanese restaurant. I decided to get in as much noodle as I could before heading back to Maidstone (described in one of Rachel’s guidebooks as ‘the eyesore of Kent’ which was to be ‘avoided’ if at all possible). Let’s just say… there were more Asians in Newman.
On Sunday, Ariel, Rachel and I walked to Grantchester to take tea at The Orchard, where the likes of Virginia Woolf, Rupert Brooke and Keynes hung out. That was really nice. A nice leisurely stroll through the town and countryside along the river – where little ducklings were frantically paddling behind the mummy duck – to a charming tea-house; then sitting under these flowering cherry trees all in blooms of pinks and whites; the weather was sublime, it wasn’t too hot, it wasn’t too cool; and because we’d left early, it wasn’t too crowded either; each of us with a little cup of hot tea and a bit of cake… mmmmmm. It was quite devine.I’d worn some thin socks which rubbed my heels against the inside of my boots, so my feet were bloody sore. And the return journey was just as long as the journey to. But I went home to a hot shower and bed quite content. A lovely weekend away, Cambridge.
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