The best days of my life?

I was in Cambridge yesterday, where I was at university. I went there with some teammates to play in a korfball tournament but we later went into town, to drink Pimms and lemonade on a punt, and to visit some old haunts. One of the great things about having studied there is that I can pay reduced rates for things like punt hire, on condition, presumably, that I give lots of money to the college when I am rich and famous. If I do somehow manage to make my millions, I might make a donation to help them to improve their disability access, which leaves something to be desired.

Returning to Cambridge gives me a chance to reflect back on my university years a decade ago, although it seems like much longer. I am always surprised that it is only happy memories that seem to be triggered, even though my time at Cambridge was, without doubt, the most miserable period of my life. I struggled academically, changing subjects from maths to history at one point and, having not yet identified my autism, I was unable to understand my difficulty in making friends. As a consequence, I had severe depression, and ended up dropping out for a year. My life improved slightly after coming back but I still struggled.

There is a psychological theory that we remember happy things more easily when we are happy, and depressing things more easily when we are depressed. Perhaps I have fond memories of Cambridge simply because my mood has subsequently become much better. On the other hand, maybe my university days were much more enjoyable than they seemed at the time. I can recall some great parties and punting expeditions and a number of people who were both kind and fun to be with, although sadly I have only kept in touch with one of them.

There is one sad aspect to any trip to Cambridge. Having been in London for many years, I don't seem to know anyone who lives there any more. In a series of coincidences, members of my group bumped into a large number of people that they knew from various places, including some people who recognised one of us while they were crossing the Bridge of Sighs and we were sailing underneath it. No such luck for me. However, many of my favourite places in the town are still there and perhaps that is why that I always enjoy returning.