It’s 10:30am. As we trudge down the stairs, loaded with bags, we pass someone carrying a heavy pint glass filled with Guinness. A trolley hurtles across the street conveying a shirtless man, his head wrapped in a large bag. A gaggle of toga-clad students bustle by. On any other day I’d think I was hallucinating.
Caesarian, or “C” Sunday is a Cambridge tradition which originates from a 20th century annual skirmish between the Jesus College drinking society, the “Caesarians”, and the Girton “Green Monsters”, until its eventual prohibition in 2014. By comparison, its present-day iteration is a lot more tame, but nonetheless promises unique sights, as hundreds of Cambridge students gather on Jesus Green on the Sunday of May Week for picnics, initiations, and, above all, day-drinking.
When we reached the Green just before midday, groups of students were beginning to pour in, the crowd splattered with a palette of fancy-dress. The drinking societies were unmistakable; each came clad in their own uniquely insane attire, to complete their own uniquely insane initiation rituals. My friend points out the ‘Alleycatz’, the all-women’s drinking society at St Catharine’s, dressed in neon orange jumpsuits and chugging from shoes. The epicentre of the crowd buzzes with activity; for those not participating in drinking societies, it’s preferable to pitch your spot on the outskirts. Narrowly avoiding the flight path of a series of men racing on all fours, dressed head to toe in pink, we claim our position, and enjoy what my friend dubs “a picnic with a view”.
As most Cambridge students head into exam term, C Sunday constitutes a final hurrah, expending all their energy before knuckling down. The spirit of revelry, somewhere between a Bacchanalia and a large-scale fraternity party, was infectious. Over the course of the day we witnessed the relentless attempts to scale the central lamppost around which much of the activity throngs (with only one success story). The day offers endless opportunities for people-watching – it turns out I know far more people in the other place than I had previously thought. Everything was infused with a sense of unity, with distinctions between colleges, year groups, and subjects blurred – if you can ignore the sporadic tabloid photographers, and the occasional police officer, both circling the Green like vultures, eager to fashion a tale of excessive debauchery out of what should be a harmless day of letting-off steam.
C Sunday is definitely a marathon; some fell at the first hurdle, and tapped out even before college brunch. Sustaining ourselves with steady snacking, we managed to maintain just the right level of tipsiness throughout the day to secure our place amongst the survivors who made it to the club night. Although it’s not an occasion for the tee-totaller or the sufferer from hay-fever, for me, C Sunday was definitely worth the four hour bus journey from Oxford, a day of student solidarity, suspending all thoughts of studying in an annual release of tension. If there’s one thing that Cambridge students can boast, perhaps it’s their mastery of the art of day-drinking.
