It’s not until you stop to write a blog that you realise how much you fit into your life; at least given the right company and opportunities.

Living in a house with 3 other people satisfies the first condition. There is something very different about living in a house compared to halls. Mainly because I care about my house; it may lack Internet and have a worrying (growing) hole in the bathroom ceiling, but this is part of the charm. My halls were a little too perfect, though somewhere in between 3*hotel and psychiatric hospital kind of perfect. Don’t worry potential freshmen, we shipped the hall off to London Met!

So, second year. I have to admit a slight sense of warmth returning to the physics building. Not being the youngest at university anymore is refreshing, as is the realisation that half way through this year, I could be half way to a degree! On Monday night, all this grown up thinking lead me to Bank of America Merril Lynch’s Graduate Recruitment Evening. “I definitely don’t want to be an investment banker,” I quipped as I walked into the marble clad events hall.

Ah, what a couple of free Peronis and gourmet canapés can do to a young man. By the end of the night, I’d talked to everyone there, and had become obsessed with the idea of working in the city selling exotic future equity derivates et al.

Thankfully the next morning it had worn off.

The more harsh reality of applying for any London Internship with a fairly sub-standard CV hadn’t.

And this, my friends and dear readers, is where my advice arrives. Join loads of societies! Do a language module! If only I’d read this in a blog before last year, who knows where I’d be!

In return for this valuable (though hardly groundbreaking) insight, I would like answers to problem sheet questions I’m stuck on.

And perhaps a comment or two; I could write them on my CV.

Minutes until the BA sale finishes. Just think, I could book a plane to New York for £299! And with a complimentary sandwich! I think that’s where I would go, hang with Mayor Jay-Z, perhaps track down Russell Brand, he’ll still be there after his glorious return to hosting the MTV Awards. I would recommend following him on Twitter, I would love to quote one of his Tweets here but I fear I would be moderated. While you’re they’re, @jonnydarley desperately needs some followers
If not New York, maybe Sydney. I kicked off this morning with Richard Hammond’s Engineering Connections (surely one of the best programmes on TV right now) and I now know the Sydney Opera House wouldn’t be there without a toy giraffe, false teeth and a copper bottomed boat. Sweet.
39 minutes left, this is high pressure.
Actually, combining my love of Twitter, Travel and TV is Stephen Fry’s ‘Last Chance to See.’ I caught an episode on iPlayer yesterday, where he was sat in The Impenetrable Forest in Western Uganda with a family of Gorillas. Not Gorillaz, though I haven’t heard much about them in years; they could well be in Central Africa for all I know.
If it’s beginning to look like all I have done recently is watch television/browse internet sales, you’d not be totally wrong. Bring on London.

Hello, I’m considering turning my blog into a ‘twitteresque’ page, brief status updates in less than 140 characters. But then perhaps I should use this platform to e x p a n d my thoughts rather than condense them. Actually I think I’ve used up my 140 already so looks like that question is answered. I am sat in my bedroom in Salisbury, a much more comfortable place than where I was sat for my last blog. Then I was turning my mid-exam stress into vague analogies and metaphors. Now all is different. Those late nights in the library paid off and thankfully I passed the year, so in October it’s round 2.

Kindly the Imperial Blogging Executive has invited me to write next year, so I will be back. With the pressure relieved of being the first year who should partypartyparty, this blog will hopefully develop into something literary and sophisticated.

Unlikely.

I’m going to Barcelona next week; I might try and be the first ‘Imperial Blogger to Blog from a Foreign Country’

I’m in the library, where i’ve spent at least 10 hours a day for the last 6 days – a place i now consider a part of me and my whole learning experience. From the crispness of the baked potato in the cafe; past the water fountain thoughtfully placed on the middle floor; all the way to the heights of the fifth, where only the cold sound of a Red Bull being opened breaks the silence, i have travelled.

Tomorrow is my last exam. Two hours to try and show I have at least learnt some physics this year – I can hardly blame excessive blogging for my failure.

My lifeline home, the ever-reliable Piccadilly line is in the throes of industrial action, leaving me in a cruel limbo between more revision, and a night bus. The library that has been my day, is about to become my night.

The last few weekends I have been looking for a house. This has raised a number of interesting questions:

·      What is a split level maisonette?

·      Should I rent a house – a talk the other day left me feeling the chances of me passing all my exams – and therefore coming back next year - is at best 50%. This problem is compounded by the fact I have prioritized househunting over revision.

·      How is it that I can apparently afford what is essentially a nicer house than my family home?

·      Is there such thing as a ‘student area’ in London; or is it simply too big for this to happen?

Despite these quandaries, the thought of living in a house, nearer Imperial than my current location, is making this whole circus pretty fun! 

Bombay Bicycle Club

+ The Cribs

+ Laura Marling

+ Late of the Pier

 + J J Pistolet

+ Alessi’s Ark

+ Planet Earth

+ Johnny Flynn

+ Jeff lewis

+ MEN

+ Kid Harpoon

+ The Maccabees

 = 45 quid

 This is why I live here.

I am sat on the train listening to Belle and Sebastian, wearing a CERN tshirt. I never thought I’d do either of those things but that is how I am.

The second term has ended with me happy. Despite the kilograms of work I need to learn over this holiday, I am looking forward to returning to London with all the knowledge at the tip of my tongue. Posting that sentence is mainly for my benefit… hopefully it will inspire me when I am doubtless giving up on revision.

These 11 weeks have probably been the fastest of my life, especially when compared to the first term. The end of that dragged painfully, whereas the second half of this term disappeared.  My last week has been pretty good; on Monday I met some friends and went to see The Rakes for free. Despite being in a record store promoting they’re new album, they played the best songs from their old albums as well, so I was came home happy.

Finishing labs on Tuesday was a cause for celebration - this came in the form of Pasha. However an ‘administrative error’ lead us to believe we needed to be wearing suits for a fancy dress night.  How we laughed when we were the only guys there who’d made that mistake!

Thursday night was the big one. The combination of club neon and SEone sounded like a rave, so each of my friends invited old school friends to come and stay in London for the night. Between 18 of us, we had one pot of neon so I ended up without, arriving at the club looking more like a chav than a neon raver. But after an hour queuing, the party started and the VKs started flowing.. .

With what is becoming more and more regular occurance, I felt the urge to run home when I left the club. This was foolish given it was at least 3 miles to Piccadilly Court, and I had no idea where I was or where I was going.

However all ended well.

Today I had my last Caledonian Road to South Kensington tube journey for a month, which is something I won’t miss; but was essential to hand in a form declaring I wanted to do exams when I get back. Great.

My train is arriving in Salisbury so this is the end. See you in a month.

·      I am willing to walk a long way to get a buy one get one free frijj/pizza

·      Having an ensuite is amazing

·      There is more music in the world than I can ever listen to

·      I am never going to feel clever

·      I can live with half the amount of sleep I thought I needed

·      Trains are ridiculously expensive

·      I find it impossible to relax

·      I never have cutlery/cups/clothes/towels/food when I need them

·      London is not necessarily ridiculously expensive

·      New friends at university are incredible; living in a new place is incredible. But it also took me about two terms to remember that where I used to live is also amazing, as are a lot of people there

Firstly, channel 4 need to sort their life out and make 4od work on Macs. Secondly, I had a tough day today. 9-12 labs kicked it off. Although not the cruellest lab session yet – that mantle is firmly placed with last term’s 3 hour session of desperately trying to find spectrum lines with tools even a great workman would blame – the lack of sleep made it fairly uncomfortable. Thank God for my lab partner’s patience!

Midday, and still awaiting breakfast, I headed up to my 1 hour academic tutorial. Although I never look forward to these, I nearly always come out smiling and - honestly – sometimes, inspired. This is definitely due to enthusiasm of my tutor. I don’t know if these tutorials are common in other universities, but the opportunity to talk through any of the topics, 1 on 4, with a professor is pretty cool and usually useful.

Feeling surprisingly good, I hit the sandwich shop and then the physics common room. Two o clock arrived bringing the next challenge – two hours of lectures and an hour’s classwork. Personally I think only falling asleep for 3 minutes out of 180 is pretty good going; two and a half hours sleep the night before is going to hit you at some point. The classwork allowed a quick break to get the red bull, making electricity and magnetism fly by. At this point I’d like to point out, this ‘night before’ was a club night organised by the Royal College of Science Union, and it would have been rude to leave before 3am. 

I spent 5-6 writing up labs and 6-7 on the mission home. Thankfully (again – I have lots to be thankful for) my friend was cooking food when I got back, which meant I could chill and not bother. Back to my original point, I am now going to watch skins upstairs because it doesn’t work on here.

p.s . let’s get some comments, it feels like I’m talking to myself!

When it got to 4:30, I didn’t think they’d make it back for the coach. I was sat in Trafalgar Square waiting for the bus back to the halls, and some other friends were at least an hour behind, still lost in Wimbledon, after we’d been to a friend’s house party. However, at 5:45, somehow, we were all on of the coach starting our journey to Bruges.

The drive to Dover was horrible, I slept on the boat to Calais, which thankfully meant I was feeling slightly better for the ride through northern France. When we eventually arrived in Bruges, I had high expectations for the UNESCO-recognised, cultural capital of northern Europe – quite a claim.

I would describe Bruges as a model village, recreating 19^th century Belgium. Tourists were being towed by horse and cart, most of the pavements were cobbled, and there were endless small chocolatiers. After walking through some admittedly pretty little streets, we arrived at the main square and immediately looked for a pub. A couple of leffes later, we went to find the culture. Admittedly, we didn’t look very hard, but it’s not totally unrepresentative that I ate my lunch at Quick, a poor man’s MacDonald’s.

Our second attempt to see what UNESCO were talking about was more successful. Nestled in a small street beyond the main street was a bar that offered to sell hundreds of types of beer.  It turned out that they did, but more impressively, each bottle came with a special glass with the beer’s brand printed on the side.  The dark, smokey atmosphere is probably my strongest memory of the trip – cigars just seem to make more sense in Belgium.

On the way back to the coach we avoided the Salvador Dali (definitely not Belgian) gallery and gothic churches (couldn’t find the door) to get to the supermarket before it closed. The slabs of cheap beer were nowhere to be seen; in fact everything seemed more expensive than England. Oh the pound!

To top of my culturally diverse day, I had a Cornish pasty on the ferry, which made me feel sick. Once we got through Dover customs – which rewardingly were much more stringent than Calais’ – I settled into my sleeping bag for the journey back to London. We made it to at least south London before anyone was ill, and the last 10 miles of the drive was painfully slow.

So despite the near total lack of more sleep for about 40 hours and ridiculously expensive chocolate, I loved my trip to Bruges. Going abroad for a tenner can never be wrong, especially with a group of friends. The weather was clear, and the town was definitely picturesque. It’s easy to forget only 20 miles separates us from Europe, so I’m going to try and visit it some more.