Here Comes The Sun

Why St Andrews is such a miserable place

Something is happening in St Andrews. Swarms of people block the pavements of our three streets. Flocks of them lounge about on the stairs of Sally’s Quad. Hordes fill the outdoor seating of our beloved pubs. This little town is undergoing a seasonal transformation, and I could not be happier.

My first semester here was a bit of a shock to the system. I was expecting the small-town hospitality I’d come to love during my year abroad in the Belgian countryside. What I was greeted with were cold faces, averted eyes, and a general sense of big-city-self-importance compressed onto three measly roads. Growing up in London, I know better than most how to power walk down a road. The unshakeable big-city-brain has only one steadfast goal: me, me, me. Get me to point B. We trample over toes, small dogs and baby’s prams on our resolute mission. And nobody really cares. Eh, it’s London. But here, in this lovely little town, I had hoped people would take time to stop and smell the sea air, revel in the ancient architecture, and dance to bagpipes. Call me naive, infatuated with an idealised Scotland but, at the very least, I was expecting friendliness.

One of my very first days here, I was out on a walk and complimented a local’s sweet dog. I hardly got a grunt in response. The other week, I let a girl know her zip wasn’t done up all the way on her dress. She seemed irritated that I bothered her. I try to smile at people on the street (my RBF is so very off-putting), and I’m not sure I’ve gotten more than a grimace back. I had all but given up hope. In trying to escape London’s malaise, I had inadvertently moved to the one place in the UK worse than it. This town’s coldness had turned me into what I sought to destroy. I became the haggard student, rushing from point A to B, entirely consumed in my own selfish purpose. But lately I’ve noticed a shift. Someone thanked me on the street for letting them pass. On opening my window, my room filled with outside laughter. Joyful chatter replaced the biting wind that whirls in your ears. Everything cold suddenly became warm.

The return of the sun after weeks of doom and gloom has changed people. I would hazard a guess that the majority of St Andrews residents suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder. Maybe that’s extreme, but I doubt any of us are strangers to the winter blues in such an unrelentingly grey climate. I’ve had so many conversations the past few days about how people finally ‘feel alive’ again. That the sun has melted off their winter coats of misery. Life feels easier when nature doesn’t work against you.

For many of us, it’s easy to feel like this is it. Brighter days are coming! We made it through; life should be easier now. But, not to dampen your spirits, the oppressive days will be back. I’m not a meteorologist, just your average Debbie Downer. By the time the next academic year begins, we will all be back in that dark place, in this dark town. In this time of transition, it’s important to reflect on what went wrong this winter. Curb your excitement, at least for now.

Take your vitamin D, talk to a doctor, spend time with friends. Get whatever little sunlight you can. Force yourself outside no matter how much the rain makes you want to cry, or the wind freezes you down to your marrow. We can’t control the weather, but we must learn to cope with it. Spending over half the year in a constant state of torment is not sustainable. Enjoy the sun while we have it, but we all must enter the darker months with greater conscientiousness. We can enjoy life, even when it feels against us.

Illustration by Dasha Andreeva