Dinosaurs on a spaceship, snakes on a plane, freshers on my turf

If my calculations are correct, which is by no means certain, Edinburgh Freshers' week began this weekend (a quick google confirms this).
I'm trying to work out what I'd be doing were I still in Edinburgh; no doubt part of me would be tempted to repeat my actions of the previous Freshers' week, where I tried to reinvent myself by attending all manner of different events, including, *shudder*, a bingo night, before returning, somewhat gingerly and with my tail firmly between my legs, to Bedlam.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.

Of course, it's impossible to know what I'd be doing, as I would've acted differently towards the end of last term if I'd thought for a second that I'd be coming back. I probably would've tried to put a play on during Freshers' week, and maybe auditioned for one of the plays already on, or maybe I would've even waited to put on TWWOO until this semester. I wouldn't have spoken to some people so frankly, and I also wouldn't have buried the hatchet with some people (I'm looking at you, Gem).
I'd have most likely spent the summer in Edinburgh, so maybe I would've suffered a relapse to the state I was in last July. Or maybe I would've risen triumphantly above the black dog like a phoenix (anyone else flashing back to Harry Potter?).

Above: my (hypothetical) summer.

I'd go and watch Becky perform stand-up and Daniel perform Blue Room (this is the thing I'm most sad about missing.)

Imagine this in a sex play.

I'd maybe staff at Bedlam a few times, try and get to know some of the newbies- there'd be numerous trips to Doctors, no doubt, and a bit of mythicising those who'd have departed (I've decided in this alternate reality that Esmond also didn't leave, so the whole ladies' man thing didn't come into play).

Dreammaker, heartbreaker.

I'd have fish pie at Teviot, and meet with Bammers and Henriette and talk about what we did all summer, and I'd hang with Luci and Bryn and feel awkward as they lit up and started getting all metaphysical. I'd have hot chocolate with Freya and discuss Lord knows what.
And then a black hole would open up over Edinburgh and everything I know would be consumed by the void. Because, after all, this is all postulation and furthermore, is completely useless because I'm not there, I'm in Melbourne and besides, Freshers are all mistakes. Filthy, nasty things. Glad I never was one.

Of course, I also can't help looking forward a year and trying to imagine how I'll act during my fourth (God, that's too many) Freshers' week. Maybe during final year I'll finally have figured it out and I'll be cool as Corbin, taking in the sights but not getting unnecessarily agitated over little things of no significance. Somehow, I doubt it.

I wish we didn't need wishes

I'm pretty sure one of the Goosebumps books extolled 'be careful what you wish for'- evidently I Did Not Learn. After posting yesterday's gushing swansong, I learnt that I would not in fact leave the Burgh that day- the heavens had conspired, decided that hiding the modern gospel in children's horror books was evidently not working and then opened, flooding Newcastle and showering Lancaster in mud and generally cutting off Scotland from the outside world (read: England.) So, I guess I was not the only one who needed to be taught not to make wishes; all those who have been calling for Scotland to indeed fly the nest have seen just what such a separation will do to their nation's train stations. They're just lucky they weren't on the train I finally managed to catch- I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Yet, not for me the furrowed brow, as it means I got some extra time to fritter away with the good lady Freya, who was positively incandescent with mystery and wit. And I still managed to make it home in time to catch my sister and use up a year's worth of conversation in five hours, forty minutes, so we shan't feel cheated when I depart. So, heavens, I applaud you- I've been taught not to make idle wishes yet not suffered any real consequences for my actions- and isn't that the best and most reliable way to learn? You may have to try harder with the SNP, though.

10505 Miles

Genuinely at this moment, I don’t want to leave Edinburgh. Compounding this is the fact that if I weren’t about to cross the globe I could’ve saved myself a lot of stress and anguish this past week (I know, I know, #firstworldproblems), but the meaty heart of this lamentation stew is that Edinburgh has never seemed so uniformly charming in all my time here. As I was clearing out my flat this morning, everything took on an aura of delightfulness so potent that I nearly burst into tears upon finding a note- written by an American exchange student in my first semester- telling me ‘farewell’. I swooned over finding some mementos of a show that at the time nearly killed me. I pored over posters, wept over washing baskets and cuddled a shoe; the better half of a pair where one’s ruinous, worn existence had condemned the other to garbage.

I wish I were exaggerating, but despite the tepid atmosphere and decidedly damp vibes I’m getting from her right now, I want to lie down and wrap Edinburgh around me like a blanket. This week alone I’ve said goodbye to Becky, Freya and Rik, all of whom I’ve known since Fresher’s week- Becky has never been earnestly fun, Rik so quintessentially knowledgable nor Freya so unfathomably fascinating. ALL of them will be here next year. I could bask in another year of their friendship if I weren’t sodding off down under. Of all my fresher’s week friends, only Esmond remains to bid adieu, and then I am officially alone.

But, if my heart of hearts wants to kick and scream and hold its breath and refuse to get in the car, then my mind of minds is perfectly fine with that, revving the engine, leaving now, goodbye, going to leave you behind. I KNOW this is an amazing opportunity; it will improve my employability, gain me life experience, flesh out a sadly depleted CV (I think those might all be the same thing)- and I must confess, the allure of my antipodean paramour is intoxicating. But goshdarn it, did Andy have to be so witty last night? Did Connor have to be that loveable? Did John have to be...John? I am not particularly close to any of these people, and a voice in the back of my head is yearning to plumb their depths (metaphorically, guys, in case you’re reading- this is not a love letter). And I could, if not for the fact that I’ll be 10505 miles (a pleasingly round number, don’t you agree?).

So all I can do is hope; hope that I find an Australian Andy; hope that my friends don’t change too much while I’m away; hope that my year abroad isn’t just a bullet point on my CV or a kooky story I tell my children; hope that it’s a start of a whole new life, one equally as awesome as Edinburgh seems now. I’m realistic about what will become of this blog- at best, it’ll be a curiosity wheeled out to entice future freshers to apply for exchange years. My advice to you then is this: take off the graduation goggles, and you’ll see they’re rose tinted.

P.S. Flipped a coin as to whether the title should be ‘10505 miles’ or ‘Graduation Goggles’ before realising that the former is a better title and will stop me from having to think up a ‘How I met your mother’ themed title for each post.