The last week or so has been incredibly busy as I’ve been ricocheting between medieval cities along with all my bags of stuff (I think) I need for uni.
Of course it’s all been terribly exciting, I spent the last few days before coming back to Norwich in York where my medievalist tendencies could really run wild. Then I made the great trek south again to finally move into my new room!
York and Norwich are similar in many ways, both medieval cities with beautiful cathedrals and quaint side streets, but York has somehow tapped into the potential of their history more with lots of exciting museums (well, exciting to some of us) and a real sense of pride in their heritage. Which isn’t of course to say that Norwich doesn’t have any of these things, I just think that perhaps we haven’t reached our full potential – but then again it’s nice living in a relatively quiet cathedral city.
Despite the fact that I have an awful lot of reading to do before class starts next week I spent a good deal of time trawling through second-hand book shops which York has in plenty, and buying books which have tenuous links to this years modules.
I may also have stopped briefly to admire the York Medieval Studies centre, but only because I had to walk past it every day…
Besides being a weekend break it was also an opportunity to size the city up and start thinking about whether this was somewhere I could see myself living for postgrad study, to which the answer is definitely yes although admittedly it is still early days.
I’m now back in Norwich and properly in our new house which is both exciting and very odd. Having a living room is a strange luxury after halls and living so near to town means shopping is a lot easier, however it’s weird to come downstairs every morning to find your friends in the kitchen – it still feels a little like an extended sleep over, but I’m sure I’ll acclimatise soon.
My friends and I were walking across campus late at night recently, post start of year party, and my instinct was to head to the ziggurats rather than catch a bus into town. This got me wondering who was living in my old flat and wondering if they liked it. I remember that when I arrived the bare room seemed very austere and foreboding but it soon became my own, and I hope that whoever lives there now also falls in love with those strange buildings we call the terraces.
Fingers crossed this year is as good as the last!