In my first year I spent spring break visiting my boyfriend at his university, and then working for a week and a half in my village pub. At the time I was looking forward to seeing my family and friends, who I’d been missing greatly, but I was equally incredibly sad to be leaving St Andrews, which had really started to feel like home.
This year however, I couldn’t be happier to be leaving the bubble. It’s not because I’m missing home, because I’m used to it at this point. It’s also not because I need a break from the stress of university, because to be honest the strikes have meant I’ve barely done anything for four weeks, and as I’m a second year, it doesn’t even matter. No, this time, it’s because of the weather.
The stereotype of Briton’s being obsesses with the weather is one we like to profusely deny, but it is unfortunately the sad truth, and it’s been even more relevant than normal over the past few months. I’ve not seen proper snow in probably five years, and I was understandably ecstatic at the thought of a big snow storm. However, when you’re an adult (lol who am I kidding) it just gets annoying after about 4 hours. I am tired of not being able to sleep because of the sound of the wind, and being woken up at 6am by the surprisingly loud hail on my roof; my shower even decided enough was enough and stopped working for 5 days a few weeks ago due to frozen pipes. I walked home from St Patrick’s Day at the union in the literal snow.
What’s more, is that not only does the cold weather make things like walking up the travellator without breaking your neck near impossible, it also has a detrimental effect on my mental health. Being cooped up in my house is giving me serious cabin fever, and I just want to be able to spend time outside soaking up the sun; I’m positively craving the optimism and hopefulness of spring.
This spring break I’m visiting Europe. I’m only going to Paris, so it’s not exactly going to be blisteringly hot, and I certainly won’t be returning with any enviable tan. But at least I’ll be away from the harshness of the wind, and might get to experience something above -3 degrees Celsius.
When we get back it will be April, and hopefully spring will have finally sprung. And to be honest, if it hasn’t, I might just not come back. I adore St Andrews, but for once I cannot wait to leave. Good bye and good riddance.