At the gates of the University of Kent’s campus in Canterbury there’s a sign that says ‘Welcome to the UK’s European University’. It sounds like the sort of statement that a lot of institutions probably make, but with campuses is Brussels and Paris, Kent’s claim seems to have some weight behind it. So it seems fitting that Canterbury itself is something close to the quintessential English city.

Even the short bus ride from the train station to the campus is enough to take in a castle wall, a cathedral, river boats for hire, and a glance of a high street full of little cafes and bunting strung between some wonderful old buildings. The campus itself sits atop St Thomas Hill; it’s a large, open space with a fair amount of greenery, including a big, sloping patch of grass where you can sit and look out on the vista of the city below, the Cathedral poking up proudly amongst the tangle of streets and trees.

This was my first time on campus. I was there to register for my MA course, which starts this week, but I was only one of thousands there to sign their name and collect a university ID card. The campus was alive with lost-looking people clutching handfuls of paper, staring intently at maps, or locked in conversation with one of the hundreds of helpers in luminous green t-shirts. It proved to be quite easy to find the sports hall, which was where registration was to take place. The paperwork had warned of queues out of the door, but it turned out to be a well-organised space with stalls around the outside for the library, the cinema, the student union etc, and the registration tables set off to one side. There were two queues, with the one for EEC students being by far the longer (lending further credence to that ‘European University’ claim). I had to give my passport for a moment and wait to be called to a desk where I picked up an ID card and lanyard. I then spent some time talking with the people at the IT desk about setting up a VPN, about the campus wi-fi network and about using the University’s facilities on the Medway campus (10 minutes walk from where I live).

All of my administrative obligations fulfilled it seemed like a good time to go check out some of the campus. I picked a few points on the map (Templeman Library, Woolf College, Blackwells bookshop, the English department) and walked around for a couple of hours in the sunshine, listening to Fresh Air, feeling very happy and fortunate to have the run of this place, and to be engaged once again in the formal pursuit of learning. Wandering the second floor of the Templeman Library felt particularly great: the smell of hundreds of thousands of books, the hushed sounds of people moving slowly amongst the stacks.

Afterwards I took a bus back into town, and re-familiarised myself with Canterbury’s wide, clean streets. Being a Saturday, sunny, and first day for students moving to the city, it was busy. I remembered how there was a great little cafe above one of the two branches of Waterstone’s, with home-made cake, local art on the walls and a chess board you’re free to borrow whilst you sit and flick through prospective purchases from downstairs. I didn’t make it that far this time, I was too embarrassed by my failed attempt to persuade a member of the Waterstone’s staff that release dates didn’t really apply to books, and that the copy of Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom that he had retrieved from the stock room would be better off in my possession.

I bought the paper and made my way back to the train station, passing as I did a few dozen people sat cross-legged on the grass of the castle grounds, listening to a brass ensemble play ‘Moon River’. It felt like a sign of good things to come.