‘Var-sit-y’ a symbol of free spirited youth and playfulness animate the building on which I was about to meet and in through tall doors existed an ambiance of light heartedness and Var-sit-y. If ever a name had kindled across my melancholic mind before I came to these pastures of green. Varsity I knew not what it meant as I entered the domain of such a place. My first such place within this land. Greeted by looks of curiosity I transcended into a flash back much greater than this experience in my first introduction to her majesty’s United Kingdom. The first person I ever did see here, how curious they were and what to be said of their rhetoric. My home my land is not what it used to be, had it been so I would now be indulged in the passionate fruits that quench upon my homesick lips and I would be looking upon shores of glistening jewels, in a rhythmic trance that would not be saying Var-sit-y.
I approached the bar hesitant in an apprehensive tone of wich drink would be mine. That drink that would mark my very first taste of England. In a kingdom I stood and contemplated the dwelling of appeal, to drink in a kingdom is to drink of Kings. The glass of crystal encrusted with garnishes of colourful fruits presented itself to my hand and then onto my lips. The drink that flowed through me overthrew me, for now the country was in my body. In my blood. But in my spirit remained that which I had left behind. My home, my land. The abode of familiar comfort, turned by perilous strife encapsulated in a moments enthralling disaster. Soon it shall return to its beauty and with it so shall I and perhaps there I shall then sit in melancholy of my first made memory within the dearest Var-sit-y.