Goodbye Unilife

My final 48 hours of studying at the University of Melbourne can be summed up in three scenes. First, the false flat of Heidelberg Road up which I cycled as though on stilts, legs not quite long enough to reach the seat of the bike I’d been forced to borrow, breathless, from a taller friend 40 minutes before my exam. Second, emerging from the exam hall to the sight of the Carlton Gardens fountain, water from the mouths of stone platypuses falling golden in the summer sun, my mind brighter, another box ticked. And third, my bedroom at 3am that night: picnic blanket on the floor, final essay three quarters finished, bike-blackened hands typing away until a knock at the door and three cups of tea signalled the sleepy arrival of friends. The next afternoon, I was finished. I have done little but sleep since.

Melbourne Uni has been so different from St Andrews. There’s the same bustle, a similar workload, but the location makes all the difference. My course back home certainly suits me better, and absence has made the fond heart grow fonder as regards the St Andrews Classics department. I love Swallowgate, the old boarding house where all my classes take place back home, where wind rattles the glazing and breakers surge up white from the sea. I miss Alcaeus and Homer and Herodotus - no Greeks for me this semester. But I will miss this city so much when it is finally time to leave.

Yarra is emptying out. Doors stand ajar, white Ikea showrooms scrubbed pristine behind them. Things will be very quiet when I return from my travels. But that’s okay. I have a lot to enjoy in the meantime.

It’s Melbourne Music Week and Queen Victoria Market has been transformed into a concert hall. On Friday night, Architecture in Helsinki took to the stage, supported by the wantonly gyrating, long-johns-clad Total Giovanni. Architecture in Helsinki were formed in Fitzroy, the much cooler suburb just down the road. With bright pink jackets and five albums under their belts, they’re definitely the neighbours whose parties you want to get invited to. And despite their success, they stick to their local roots:

“This song’s about the East-West toll road. It’s a terrible idea. Any Liberal politicians in the audience tonight can fuck right off.”

“Summer’s coming. Time to set Victorian Spider Identifier as my homepage.”

“I don’t want to leave! Can someone please handcuff me to a gum tree?”

“I’ve never prank called 000 [999], but I did force my friend to call 666 once. She’s dead now.”

 “God, jewellery’s so expensive. Who do you think you are, spending that much money in one go? The one percent?!”

[This article has been edited. A previous edition stated that Stephanie Elizabeth Laucks merely persuaded her friend to telephone the devil. Ms Laucks emailed to assert that force was most definitely used.]