Well this was my entry to become an Imperial Blogger. The judges thought it was good, so I thought I’d share.

“All my friends are looking forward to their 21st Birthdays with great anticipation – I only just turned 20 and am one of the youngest third years I know of. But I’ve got to say, this year I’m feeling old. Maybe it’s because all the Fresher’s walking around campus look so happy and enthusiastic, while after a summer of hard ‘scientific’ work I’m feeling a little jaded and cynical. Maybe it’s because my boyfriend pointed out to me the other day that they all have ‘09’ in their email addresses. Or maybe it’s because I realised at the Big Band gig on Monday that I actually knew most of the faces there, because hardly any of them were new students, and most of them are people I’ve seen at least once in my time here.

Last year I felt intellectually superior and far more mature than those snotty Fresher’s wandering around with awestruck expressions, chatting to their new friends and wearing those red lanyards you get with your ID card the first time. I was on a stall at Fresher’s Fair and I felt so knowledgeable – as if one of them would look at me, hear me talking, realise that I know things and I decide I was their new hero. I enjoyed telling all the first years on my course what to do and how to pass – what not to do and which lecturers to stay on the good side of. At the buddy lunch I imagined they would all be jealous because I could walk up to people and talk to them like I knew them.

Now I know – I was wrong.

Now I look at the second years and I feel intellectually superior and more mature than them once more, because I know better. This year I’m looking at the Fresher’s and wishing I was in that position again. OK, maybe I quite enjoyed shouting at them as they walked past my stall (“Do you play an instrument? Any musicians?!” I’m still hoarse) but overall I would love to be just-starting again, full of the excitement of exploring London, feeling that accomplishment of having got into Imperial College…

In my own Fresher’s Week, I didn’t have any form of alcohol at all. I got fed apple cake courtesy of a friend from halls whose mum had baked it and went to see “We Will Rock You” at the Dominion Theatre. I ate my first Chinese ever in Chinatown and explored Central London, taking photos of all the signs from the Monopoly board. We drooled over cakes in the windows of patisseries, huge affairs decorated with glittery icing and delicately spun sugar shapes, and went ice-skating in Queens Ice Rink. I got lost around South Kensington at least ten times, and was sent to hospital after cutting my finger open on a potato peeler the first time I tried to cook.

At the time it all seemed pretty lame. To my surprise, it’s with a sense of yearning that I think back while sitting in the union drinking another G&T, wishing I could do halls events, get to know my friends again (read ‘erase their memories of me in various embarrassing situations’). I want to be a Fresher…

Maybe next year I’ll realise that I actually am top-dog with it being my last Fresher’s Week, the most mature and intellectually superior person around, obviously. Happily old. Or maybe I’ll still be here, cradling my drink and behaving worse than my 18-year old self did, safe in the knowledge that we’re all just snotty Undergraduates anyway.”