“Welcome, second-years!” is one of the most surreal sounds I’ve heard for quite some time. Like… you talkin’a me?
Yes, he was talkin’a me, because I’m a second year vet student. No longer bottom of the dogpile, I’m a tried-and-tested, officially-matriculated specimen with a year under my belt. But there was no time for speculation about how far I’d come, because on the Monday of Freshers’, all hands were on deck moving stuff from the car into my new flat, before leaving to buy more stuff for the flat, and then receiving and unpacking all of my belongings from storage… and putting them into the flat. Continue Reading!