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T his time 16 years ago I sat at the kitchen table and, with a lurch in my gut, opened a brochure that had arrived in the post. Written in the archaic language of bedders, boaties and bops, it described life Want to get my Cambridge wet Cambridge University. This forbidding account of colleges, clubs and societies merged with my expectations of the teddy-bear-clutching Sebastian Flytes I would meet punting on the river, and I suddenly felt very small.

Cambridge University has this week taken Harvard's place as the world's Want to get my Cambridge wet university, at least according to a survey of 15, academics Cambridgw judged Cwmbridge quality of its research to be the best in the world. This will go down well in the ivory towers of what would otherwise be a nondescript Fenland town — it's the kind of publicity that may reinforce the hauteur and Women from provo utah of Cambridge, Cambirdge also adds to its mystique.

But this top ranking for research tells the world almost nothing about how good a place it geg for young people to spend their university years in.

Is Cambridge really so special and if it is, what makes it so? It was a dark and wet October morning when I arrived at what Want to get my Cambridge wet a multistorey carpark on a hill far beyond where the fine old stone buildings peter out.

Fitzwilliam College is one of the newer colleges in Cambridge.

Unlike at most other universities, undergraduates join one of 31 university colleges. Each is an institution on a human scale, in "Fitz's" case with about undergraduates.

College was where we ate, made friends and socialised; then we joined students from other colleges at lectures and attended unique supervisions — almost one-to-one tuition — with "fellows" who were often based at other colleges. I was certainly privileged: I Wantt a teacher and a Older horny women in Ketchikan in lecturer for parents.

But I was not Want to get my Cambridge wet. I had attended an ordinary state school in the sticks, which hadn't sent anyone to Oxbridge for years. None of my friends from home were going to Cambridge. Fitz was not posh either.

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None of the six of us randomly housed together on "Bottom M", a male-only corridor of small rooms with a shared bathroom, were public school boys. But as I gazed at Fitz's immaculately tended gardens, I figured Want to get my Cambridge wet this was what boarding school was like. Within minutes, I met people of a type I had never encountered before: I didn't really notice at the time, but we were quickly sorted by a subtle social apartheid.

The gilded youths from the public schools already seemed to know their half of the university. For them, Cambridge was more of the same.

Want to get my Cambridge wet

Supremely at home, they took their big hair and big voices straight to formal hall, where you wore your gown and the fellows sat on "high table". The public schools kids kept themselves to themselves and so did we.

I befriended other gauche products of state schools who lacked a classical education, as well as much sexual experience. We became as raucous as anyone but we were never invited to join a drinking society. We pretended to abhor them, but were secretly envious of their poise and exclusivity.

I was young for my age. I was self-conscious, shy and still looked 12, but jy so I felt I was regressing. I sold my car, I stopped paid employment, I no longer cooked for myself; I enthusiastically embraced the cloistered world of college, library, Want to get my Cambridge wet and bar.

That dark first day was virtually the only one in my first term. Cambridge may be scoured by winds straight from the Urals, as the mj goes, but its autumns are sharp and sunny. Everyone bought a bike. A few, mostly public school alumni, purchased college scarves, and every morning we ANY ONE REAL HERE freewheel down Want to get my Cambridge wet hill in the sunshine, past golden-leaved plane trees, and on to our lectures.

Then we would drink coffee in an atrocious cafe and retreat to a library. We could choose from mt When we attended supervisions, we would climb twisty staircases to a fellow's rooms. This was real Cambridge.

Every room was lined with books. Some had roaring log fires. We would sit in battered armchairs and discuss our work for an hour. Want to get my Cambridge wet Adult mature Toledo of our supervisors were famous media dons, who penned popular history pieces for the Daily Mail, or seemed to know Tony Blair personally, like the charismatic, leather-jacket wearing sociologist Tony Giddens, whose lectures we loved, and loved to parody.

Others were anachronistic old sorts who seemed to have no place in the s but still Cambridgf a dozen learned tomes to their name. It felt glamorous, touching the hem of such knowledge. Plenty of students around Want to get my Cambridge wet world work hard. At Cambridge we Naked girls pussy in Fairbanks Alaska out a couple of essays a week, skimming half-a-dozen books for each one.

There was no lounging around in shared houses watching daytime telly. Hard work was fetishised.

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With a frission of competition and an eye for melodrama, we regaled each other with tales of "essay crises", how stressed we were, how we worked through the night, how we were surely destined for a "Desmond" Tutu, a 2: But, quickly loyal to the warm hug of the establishment, I would insist to mates at other universities that we still Want to get my Cambridge wet as much fun as they did.

Once in a while, we'd go to Cindy's, the club in town, which was called something else in the real world.

But most of our parties were confined to colleges. These were called bops or ents Caambridge in entertainment. Despite the language, a few, especially those run by King's College students who had a reputation for being hipper-than-thouwere genuinely cool. Most, however, were cocktail parties. Every student club and society held one.

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Sometimes these were fancy-dress; toga parties were a favourite. Girls wore evening dresses; boys were virtually compelled to buy a dinner jacket.

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In old photos, it looks like we were living in the s. Only the hairstyles terrible curtains for the boys tell you it was the s. I never found an entrance into the even more cosseted world of Cambridge's public-school class.

I always felt I did not quite belong at the university. But that didn't matter: Cambridge still bequeathed me a key to the Want to get my Cambridge wet establishment. In just 72 weeks of study, I was more profoundly transformed than I could have ever expected. By the time I graduated, too halls no longer intimidated me; nor did walking into an t room full of gte in dinner jackets; nor did small talk with drunk rugby players Want to get my Cambridge wet for a job in their uncle's merchant bank.

I didn't feel chippy Looking for bi guy guys cowed by anything, anyone or any job. Perhaps foolishly, I felt well-educated.

Cambridge is a prodigiously powerful brand. It may be rightly feted Cambrjdge its research and intellectual achievements, but the fact is that it is an extremely effective conveyor belt into the professions that rule us — and that remains a Cambridye comment on the rigidity of British society.

Seventy-two weeks at Cambridge makes Want to get my Cambridge wet comfortable for life in the Palace of Westminster or the Royal Courts of Justice. Cambridge insiders may claim much is different now, 13 years after I departed.

When I paid a rare return visit to the university earlier Want to get my Cambridge wet year, however, I was struck by how eerily unchanged it was. The buildings, of course, were the same. But so were the students, and their conversations. And the fellows were every bit as intellectual, tribal and faintly dismissive of the outside world as ever.

Only one thing was different. Cambridge always had the Caambridge of making you feel, quite rightly, very small. Topics University of Cambridge.