By Lauren Evans

It’s nine o’clock, and a hue of summer darkness has begun to colour the sky. Sat in the stacks of Level 3, you have been sitting at the same hard-earned desk in the library since the exam opened at eleven o’clock. You let out a sigh of both relief and frustration as you shut your laptop and lean back into your chair, stretching out like a cat. You are far from alone here – the library exudes an almost tangible hum of frustration that hangs above the student solidarity of exam season. Every seat is taken by a laptop-wielding, coffee-drunk, frazzled student, firing off timed essays to an equally laptop-wielding, coffee-drunk, frazzled tutor – an almost symbiotic exchange of stress and anxiety. 

You take one more almost lazy glance at your work, before resignedly adding your ominous final submission to Turnitin. All done. The relief isn’t half as sweet as you had imagined, but the freedom to leave your library desk is worth the anticlimax. Exiting the library, the world seems to glow with the undertones of early June; still half awake and lazy with the sounds of summer. The trees are outlined with the mellowed hues of the sunset, and the birds accompany your traipse home towards your halls – a stark contrast to the buzz of student stress that permeated the library like a bad odour. A breeze of fresh air hits you, devoid of the old book smell that had haunted you for weeks. The air is not quite cool, with a tendril of summer warmth teasing the evening in a way that promises good weather ahead. You smile slightly as you note that your laptop feels considerably lighter than it had when you came in.

The trees are outlined with the mellowed hues of the sunset, and the birds accompany your traipse home towards your halls

The walk home is punctuated with the sounds of students on their way out. So lucky, you think to yourself, as echoes of laughter bounce along the pavement and reverberate. The centre of town has begun to bustle with the evening crowd, the picnic benches that line the Wear full of students and locals alike. The silhouette of the Cathedral accompanies your journey along the Bailey – a looming presence that you have grown accustomed to during your first year. The cobbled streets of North Bailey are dappled with the warm glow of college houses, warming you in turn as you recall how familiar these streets have become since you first moved in.

You eventually find yourself home and clamber under your duvet. Settling against the ever-lumpy college mattress, the slant of a streetlamp casts the silhouette of your slightly wonky, cold, and evidently grade II-listed window across your first-year room. Against the ambiance of the dimming light, and sitting with the accomplishment of submitting your final exam, you allow yourself to reflect upon the journey of your first year at Durham – before the rush of freedom of that final month washes over your nostalgia.

The silhouette of the Cathedral accompanies your journey along the Bailey – a looming presence that you have grown accustomed to during your first year

The familiarity of the city etched in your head, you recall the nervous excitement of your first term; the thrill of Freshers’ week, and the monotony of reiterating your course and college upon every first encounter. You remember the dozens of people you added on social media in the chaos of Fresher’s week, never to be spoken to again. The Cathedral had seemed a majestic figure amid Durham’s skyline in that first week – a far cry from the comforting presence it became on the long walks back from the club.

To think back, you find yourself surprised by how much you have changed, alongside your familiarity of the city. From long-haul grocery trips to Big Tesco, to signing your second-year house ridiculously early into Michaelmas, this baptism by fire into adulthood has certainly been an experience. You smile wryly. The coming weeks of blissful, lecture-free summer will make up for it – with Durham becoming a playground of stress-free students letting loose. Perfect, you think to yourself, I can’t wait.

You reopen your laptop, now swathed in your duvet and memories, and hover back onto your Turnitin submission page. Your essay submission sits on your Blackboard page, a physical manifestation marking the end of an era. With your first year now officially over and done, you may finally reap the rewards of all those late nights in the library… you hope. In three weeks, you will see your results – an indication of how far you’ve come since September, and all the work you did (or didn’t do). All there is to do now is wait.

Image Credit: Durham University