A few weeks ago, some friends came over for my birthday. We laughed and drank margaritas and stayed up too late. There was even beer pong. Scroll for some pics of that night full of nonsense.

Then there was the adorably-themed “Skype interview” costume bop. We danced and laughed and drank cheap booze from the college bar, wearing business suit tops with sweat pants.

And, about a week and a half ago, while having lunch at Queens’ College, we were still talking about the legendary end-of-year all-night galas that the colleges throw, known as May Balls. (They happen in June, but don’t you worry about that. And staying up all night means you’re a “survivor.”) In addition to going to St. Catherine/Queens’ joint ball, some were planning on going to Wolfson College’s, and everyone was wanting a ticket to St. Johns, which is legendary all on its own. (Rumor has it that those who “survived” St. Johns a few years back were taken to Paris for breakfast.)

Now, we are coronavirus-induced panic-packing, scrambling to get a flight for Harper and one for ourselves, and trying not to lose our s**t. Our friends have gone or are self-isolating. The colleges have closed and even college members are now being asked to leave. And by “asked” I mean, told.

The academic departments have gone to online only, and the final term of the year, Easter term, is not happening. Neither is graduation, and, of course, neither are those May balls.

A few nights ago, we went for a walk. The usually bustling and loud and lively city center was, in a word, ghostly. Bars were empty. Restaurants, empty. Pubs, empty. Streets, empty.

With the canceling of the Easter term, in addition to the dinners and feasts and guest nights and costume parties and formal “swaps” – dining at another college’s formal hall – disappearing, also goes finishing the year with brand-new best-of-friends. And graduating with them. Writing a dissertation when one has access to a library, saying a proper good-bye after finishing up a sure-to-have-been-awesome academic year. All gone.

All of this, I am very aware, pales in comparison to people actually sick or who have lost someone to Covid 19. And those who are financially burdened by the order to leave Cambridge. And all of those who are alone and self-isolating out of well-founded fear. And those incredible humans risking their health and lives, doing God’s work in the healthcare field. And those who have lost their jobs. My heart, while hurting for my little piece of this weird event, goes out to all of the people going through actual pain and suffering. So, while you’re here, I ask that you contribute to a charity helping with the pandemic response.

This is not meant to complain or compare or elicit sympathy. Things change, dreams sometimes get dashed, and you move on. (Been doing some Byron Katie-ing these days.)

I am writing this because we are in the middle of a global pandemic and we are in a foreign land, not lost but a bit adrift, with what we thought were our plans for the rest of the year 2020 completely and totally altered. I miss my old friends and my family at home, and my new family here in this university town I had fallen in love with.

When we got here and I got my Harry Potter (Slytherin) robe, things were shiny and glorious. Sure, we suffered through the hottest day in the history of this nation with no A/C, and, sure, I was hospitalized for 4 days in Cambridge and then again in a London public hospital - on Christmas Day, no less (I am completely fine now!), and, sure, the plumbing in this old rental house only worked part of the time, but for the most part we were loving it. The drop from that to where we are now is...well, sad. Then, for a final f**k you if you think anything will be normal ever again, while also responsibly socially distancing and not touching anything but the barware, we were on the ever-too-hip Mill Road the minute the announcement came down that bars and pubs were closing.

I will hopefully finish my work and my dissertation from the USA and get a degree. It still counts, even if it might have a bit of an asterisk next to it:

Queens’ College, Cambridge. Master of Philosophy: Criminology. 2020*

*The year of the pandemic.

Not too bad, right?

Headed back to the USA soon, God willing. And trying to stay Veracious.

-VV 

P.S. Please also consider contributing to one of the charities now in more need than ever because of the pandemic.