This weekend is the beginning of the carnage we call 'Raisin'. I won't bother you with the technicalities, but it consists of copious amounts of alcohol, foam and academic incest. Oh the memories.
Raisin Monday - the day of getting dressed up by your mum, receiving your raisin reciept from your dad and the culmination of the day: the grand foam fight on the quad- is not an official university holiday, but with first year students reeling from the weekend's events one soon finds lectures and tutorials cancelled.
This year my 'mum' has asked us around for tea and scones which should be nice. I had planned to avoid town altogether on Sunday (because I know for a fact that there will be students draped over the kerb, with pools of sick dotted around town like a Hansel and Gretel bread trail) but I've been invited to a raisin party.
I'll see what the weather's like.