To sit in The Cambridge,

 the air warm with excitement,

as beer flows and complements to the flavour

of the rousing conversational chase, back and forth,

hurriedly

slowly…

the odd glass or three of

Simon’s Cider peppering the aroma,

punctuated by a Ginger Goddess

staring into her empty glass with the shock value

of one in need of another

after a heavy day hitting the books,

the pages in between and the words beaten

into submission, black eyed, panda like,

sat under constant university

strobe flickering wildly,