“From the outside looking in, you can’t understand it. From the inside looking out, you can’t explain it” – is what I tell my parents when they enter my second year uni flat and see the ever-growing mould.
I can’t believe I am finishing my second year at university in a few weeks time, and although my course knowledge is very limited, my naive little fresher brain has expanded over the last two years, and I’ve developed skills in weekly complaint texts to the landlord, how to make a £10 food shop last a week and how to show up to lectures hungover. Nine-grand well spent?
Ok, this one is a little extreme as I live with my two best mates, and am genuinely fearing living without them so much in my final year that I may make a 4-hour commute to uni (dead serious, trying to persuade my mum as we speak!) But, that being said, when you live with your friends, socialise, go to the gym and uni, you will get on top of each other. Whether that’s because someone moved your milk out of the side shelf in the fridge and now its spilled in your drawer, or because your crap internet can’t load the arsenal game because someone is trying to stream High School Musical 2 (why bother, we all know number one is the best). You’ll find little things that actually DRIVE YOU INSANE. For instance, my flatmates abilities to leave an empty toilet roll on the side and not put it into the bin two inches away, or the bikini that has sat on the radiator for four weeks in the kitchen and not been moved, and if it is, I’d be equally as mad because it’s part of the furniture and the kitchen won’t be the same without it. Grrr. But honestly, if that’s the worse I have to live with them I’m very very lucky, and my advice would be to mention the issues early on, as they’ll only grind your gears more with time!
Extreme again? Maybe, but I’ve lost a stone since January as all I eat at uni is the same banana for breakfast, avocado on toast for lunch, half an Easter egg (I brought like 10 when they were 75p in Tesco oops) and pasta with tomato sauce for dinner. Going home and seeing fruit is honestly a feeling that I can only compare to Jesus reappearing (and I’m Jewish). I haven’t eaten anything other than beige and my sweet sweet mother is going to carve a platter of vibrant pineapple, grapes and strawberries to which I can then place my bowl into a DISHWASHER is a luxury I will now never take for granted. It’s one way to get that summer bod though?
At this point my landlord might as well just bloody live with us. There was a point in the year where we were having three house viewings a week. At first, I started off cleaning my room, polishing my shelves, leaving highlighted textbooks open on my desk to create the illusion of work. By week four, dirty underwear and a half a head of hair pulled out from the shower drain appeared. My advice for anyone looking for a flat is to go with a nice landlord, because although ours is my most texted contact on my phone, there was a week where my friend broke our fridge at pres, and we didn’t have one for a week, and John the landlord, god bless his soul, took back my cheese to his house to freeze for me. And if you’re a uni student who rations cheese because it’s the same price as gold dust, you’ll understand this beautiful blessing.
As a self-proclaimed perfectionist, yet someone who looks down at her cue cards the whole presentation, as if in some intense wink murder game, presentations are something I dread. Yeah I get the importance, and “you can’t do marketing if you can’t market yourself” blah blah blah but putting us into groups where people are writing their cue cards 10 minutes before our slot, has given me wrinkles. Seriously should have spent the £27k on botox.
At the start of the year I was in my prime, going out every week, new outfit, +3 eyeshadow shades, first name terms with the guy in KFC and now, since January I’ve been out once, had to guess all the lyrics to the ‘cool’ floor, and can’t handle more than two shots of vodka. That’s what happens now I’m in my 20s! But seriously, I’d take a movie and game night in, over a hangover any day of the week!
Despite all, it goes without saying that uni really is the best experience of your life. Yeah I’m paying a disgusting amount for four hours of lectures a week and going in for some pre-loaded powerpoint slides, but at the end of the day, to do what I want to do I need a university degree. Regardless of the academic side, the memories created at uni are something so personal (mainly because anyone in normal living conditions would be repulsed), but there’s something special about watching Naked Attraction as a flat, having crying breakdowns in each others rooms, and reviewing the latest dick pic at pres. Second year, you’ve truly been an experience ❤
Always got your back,