My First 24 Hours of Uni

MY FIRST 24 HOURS OF UNI 

Once upon a time, I was a fresher. 

Fast forward four years, and I'm now in my final year of university and spending my Friday nights deciding what cereal to buy in Lidl, and chilling in my flannel pyjamas, drinking tea and watching Coronation Street (how did that happen). 

Now that I'm back in Manchester, one of the greatest cities on Earth and my beloved second home, I can't help but get nostalgic about my first year. Way back when I was a fresher. 

I'm thinking about all the memories I made. The people I met. The things I experienced. The way I felt. It feels so far removed from me now, almost like a perfect dream that happened to somebody else. I loved my first year of university more than words could ever possibly express. When I think about my first year, it's a gorgeous, glowing, glittering yearning and fondness that swells in my heart. I don't think words could ever do it justice, or capture the way life felt back then. It was almost otherworldly.

I was so lucky with my experience, because everything fell into place for me from the very beginning. I loved my housemates, my flat, my city, my university, my course. Everything was right somehow. 

Having begun my final year of this wonderful, magical, maddening and life changing experience, I feel an even greater fondness for my first year of university, because it was such a special, innocent, liberating time in my life. The start of an incredible journey. And things will never be that way again.

So in honour of all those fresh, excited, buzzing faces flooding the streets before me, hearts full of anticipation, awe, curiosity and adventure... blissfully unaware of what is to come, and as a little nostalgic throwback for me, I thought I'd share a piece of writing which I wrote following my first 24 hours of university.

If you're expecting wild debauchery I'm afraid I wasn't your girl, but if you like tales involving random Brazilian men then get stuck in.

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SEPTEMBER 2014

It’s three in the morning and I’m sat in my new bedroom, trying to figure out how to work the internet connection. 

I can hear Lana del Rey singing, and the Irish girl from upstairs teaching people to say ‘cheers’ in Irish (it’s Slanja or something like that, if you didn’t know). Not so long ago she was teaching me that, and passionately telling me how she’s Irish and not British. It’s kind of funny actually, although lovely as she is, I hope she goes to bed soon because I can hear her through the breezeblock walls and her slanjas are keeping me awake. 

Today has been so strange from beginning to end. I woke up with the entire world butterfly population in my tummy, did my final packing, ate my final meal at home, and it wasn’t long before Ro was crying, which meant that I ended up crying too. Dad packed all my stuff up in the car (very easily, much to my surprise), and Mum bought me the entire stock of Morrisons so that I’ll never go hungry, or at least not till I’m thirty. Then before I knew it, I was leaving my home of eighteen years and headed to Manchester to begin the new phase of my life. Being in the car like that with all my family, it didn’t feel like I was actually really doing it; it all felt like a dream that was happening to someone else, not me. 

The journey up was really nice, although we did get a few traffic jams, and besides, I didn’t get the chance to be nervous because about half an hour in I began to need the loo. By the time we pulled in at Fallowfield campus I was trying so hard not to pee myself, because that would not be a good first impression. After sitting in a long queue we eventually made it to my area of the campus and Dad pulled up whilst I went to get my key. When I came out Mum, Ro and Dad had somehow managed to get my entire belongings, all 10,000 kilos of it, stacked onto a large metal trolley and we all went over to my new flat. Luckily it's at the very end of the building, nearest the road, and we didn’t smash any crockery unlike another girl who apparently did (result). 

At some point my new flatmate from Abergavenny came out her room with her parents, and we chatted a little. Then my other flatmate came up to say hi and have a chat. He’s from Breacon in Wales, so obviously I had to ask him if he knew that Boots water is from there, and he didn’t so there you go, I'm imparting useful knowledge already and it’s not even been twenty four hours. 

 At some point my other flatmates from Doncaster and Colchester came upstairs too. One asked if I wanted any cake. I definitely think we'll be friends. Afterwards my new pal from Abergavenny made us all tea, and eventually, after unleashing my millions of belongings upon Flat 68, Beech Court, Oak House, it was time for my family to leave. Yet again, Rosie's crying set me off. Dad was a little teary and Mum didn't cry once. Apparently they all went to McDonalds on the way home so I guess they’re going be just fine! I hugged Rosie four individual times before I could finally let her go, and it was so hard to say goodbye, but after they left I went into the lounge and sat with my new flatmates.

Soon we started making dinner, and one housemate tried to make pasta but the water boiled everywhere. He was the most elaborate. The rest of us stuck to beans on toast and melted cheese. After much deliberation, we finally decided that tonight we would go to a house party in another block. We all went together and played ‘Ring of Fire’, and I took a can of Strongbow which made me feel sick. I made that Strongbow last for a looooooooong time. 

Eventually we left the flat to go to Squirrels bar. It was packed with people, so we stood around and mingled. Somehow I ended up wandering around campus with a guy from Birmingham and his new flatmate. Just as we were about to hang out in their flat, I spontaneously walked out with no explanation. I just felt my legs moving and went along with it. I was going to go back to my flat, but to get in the block, I had to walk past this group of eight or so people who looked like they wanted to get in. I opened the door and began talking to them. Turns out they were all Brazilian.

 They invited me to the party on the floor above. I don’t know if it was the half can of Strongbow I had, or the excitement of the evening, but either way I said yes. In the flat I met even more Brazilians and we talked about  everything from Sherlock, Dr Who, Rio and Brazil. We had such a laugh, and they took me under their wing like an honorary Brazilian, and when they decided to go out they invited me along.

Again I said yes. I had a good feeling about it. 

So we got the bus to the Student Union and spoke the whole way about Brazilian and English culture. We ended up at this crappy bar and left not long after. In the end it was just me and four Brazilian guys, and the nice thing was I felt completely 100% safe and comfortable around them. We had so much to talk about and I kept thinking to myself, never in a million years would I dream of spending my first night at uni like this, but I bloody love it.

We walked all the way home, past the union, down Curry Mile and past Platt Fields, just talking about music, F1, accents... We bumped into some more Brazilians and bought alcohol from New Zealand wines, and ended up back in the flat where the night began. And now there’s plans to go round tomorrow, so look how it’s all turned out! I still feel a little homesick when I’m not doing things to distract myself, and it will be weird waking up in a strange bed tomorrow morning. 

But this journey has began so well, and I’m excited about what will come next. I’ve made some new friends who I look forward to seeing again, and hopefully the only way for things to go now are to keep on going up… Wish me luck.