It was a moment we'd been dreaming about for months. The
final-minute drop of the pen, the post-essay wring of the
wrists, the sigh of exhaustion and exultation: Honours,
What would've been next?
Nothing was planned, aside from a beverage at the pub over
Alas, my cappuccino would have to wait. Within seconds of
handing in my last yellow answer booklet, I was ushered away
and asked to explain my breach of the Examination Rules
The first line of my most recent column comes to mind: "With
exams just around the corner (tomorrow, in fact), cheating is
on my mind." Yeah, well, apparently it was.
Without divulging the details, it turns out that an old
supermarket shopping list has got me into a bit of trouble.
Tissues, laundry powder, Q-tips. Drama.
And drama continues post exams as I'm now faced with the
hassle of shifting four years' worth of Dunedin back to
Christchurch. Around me, others are also condensing their
lives into cardboard boxes and duvet cases.
Clothes are squashed, shoved, bundled into bags ... While I'm
constantly questioning: where did this come from?
Almost-empties are emptied; forgotten items are found; books
are heavy; pot-plants present difficult decisions. Notes are
kept, or chucked (usually chucked), occasionally set alight,
ideally recycled. Hours (and hours) later, and the room is
still a tip.
Then there's the issue of furniture.
Will the landlord allow summer storage?
With a twelve-month lease you'd be hoping so, but that's not
always the case. Campus is littered with flyers: beds,
wardrobes, desks, chairs, little cube-shaped shelf
contraptions, are all desperately cheap at this time of year.
A mind-baffling range of paraphernalia passes from generation
to generation of the student community in the likeness of a
mass "moving sale". Don't bother inquiring about how old that
is, or where this came from originally, the honest answer is
that nobody really knows but of course it's all been well
In first year, as I sat with my mother in a hotel room on
George St, waiting for Saturday and Arana's open day, I
watched two young men nonchalantly carry a queen-sized
mattress down the footpath. A while later, they returned for
the bed base.
Such a sight was a shock for a self-conscious Aucklander.
However, in third year, when I found myself lugging a
flatmate's bookshelf down Grange St, I'll admit that I
chuckled to myself. Dunedin, you've changed me.
Within the chaos of the half-packed bedroom is a
quarter-packed sports bag which is supposed to be ready for
tomorrow's trip to Stewart Island. On the laptop screen is a
semi-complete column. Amid the Dunedin-induced personal
growth, even in the absence of study, some things will stay
Honours, finally finished.
- Katie Kenny studies English at the University