An Alternative Guide to Surviving Freshers Week

Firstly, if you are a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed fresher who is just about to embark on their uni career having left the bank of Mum and Dad to strike out alone, this isn’t the post for you. In fact, this probably isn’t the blog for you. Try not to channel your inner Glinda and store the excitement of living with people in a safe place; I’ll remind you in five years, when you’ve lived with someone who works nights and rolls out her crazy if anyone breathes too loudly while she’s sleeping, or the student who sees washing as an optional life choice.

I am too old, and I cannot use the words ‘totes emoshe’ to convey any feeling other than one of a prize penis for actually saying it. All I know about university is from what friends and family have told me, given that I never went. It sounds like a smorgasbord of late nights, trips to A&E with alcohol poisoning, too much coffee, and if you are unlucky, an STD, and that’s not what I’m about. Yeah yeah, and the studying, but the studying part isn’t the problem, is it?

What I am well qualified to help out with is how to survive fresher’s week, if, like me, you live near a University, a campus, dorms or any other holding cell where they put the teens these days ( I also live neatly between 2 prisons, and I’d take my chances on one of those over halls any day).

I have the pleasure of a lovely flat that looks out over a courtyard. When we moved in we thought it was lovely, a quiet location near the tube that would provide peaceful solitude. Shame on me for not doing my research, but the flats opposite turned out to be student accommodation for UCL, and this is how I reach my new authority on dodging the bullet that is … freshers week.

They come, and one by one they occupy their rooms, like creatures in a zoo. They sit behind their glass windows as if they are in tanks, and they stare into our windows. And we stare into theirs, marvelling at the innocence of the new student creature that is staying.

Hard to tell the difference, this could be confused for a fresher after a heavy week of foam parties. It is a zombie

If, like me, you have found yourself in the middle of a zombie fresher apocalypse, take heed of these tips:

• Never look them directly in the eye. They feel threatened and might bite. Hahaha, that’s not one really. (Might be).

• Keep windows closed at all times. No matter how hot it is inside, and however it feels way more sensible to open the window than fork out for a fan, keep them closed. You do not want to hear the sounds of retching when the wind changes nor do you want to ever experience the pain of drunk freshers singing, in choir like symmetry, Celine Dion. I swear that sound will haunt me forever.

• Become fast on your feet. You may be innocently on your way to catch the 91 to work of a morning, but they are sleeping off last nights antics. Learning to be spritely of step will allow you to dodge various piles of sick on your walk and negotiate the delicately strewn scores of used condoms, in assorted shades, lining the pavement.

• Always carry headphones. When popping out to get groceries or waiting for the bus of a morning, ensure you are plugged in and calmly listening to music to take you to your happy place. This will ensure you miss all (loud) conversations about who did what last night, charity work and gap yaaaaahs. No one cares, youth.

May the force be with you.

What’s your favourite fresher related story? Do you have any good Uni memories?

Lost in Translation

Going past the obvious physical things, there are some massive differences between boys and girls, a point that has become glaringly obvious since I moved in with one. Things like emptying the bins, “I didn’t notice they were full!” and hoovering “I like my feet black!” were expected, but there are some things that we see from totally different stand points.

Take last night for example.

Last night, I finally dragged my sorry ass to the gym, and not only did I do the most high intensity zumba class, which turned out not to be zumba but an eclectic blend of salsa, reggaeton and bowka, I also did 15 minutes on the stepper as I was there a bit early.

I was really proud of myself, despite the fact that I had to consume a banana and half a bag of sweets on the way home due to slightly low blood sugar (ill learn the balance eventually of insulin, working out and food intake) but I was pleased all the same.

I trekked home, getting weird looks from fellow tube passengers (I have something to admit, five minutes after exercise has finished, I go puce and remain that way for a good hour. It’s my thang) and my boyfriend had done something really sweet. Something he thought I would really appreciate. He had got me a “well done for going to the gym treat”.

Just to add some background to this, I have given cheese up for lent. It’s my biggest vice, and I love ever cheese imaginable. I don’t drink a lot and wanted to test my willpower for the lent period, so cheese it was. And Lord, it’s been the hardest thing. But so far I have been cheese free since Pancake Day, and I have a month to go. A month of pure hell. Especially as I gave up cheese for January too, in a bid to make my tummy look less like cottage cheese.

So my treat was……… a cheese board! I was a little taken aback. Why would it be a good idea to reward me with the same amount of calories I had just leaked in sweat, half way through a massive test of my willpower? And why does anyone need a reward for their first gym session? Well done for not being lazy for the first time in your life! I didn’t get the logic. He didn’t get my logic.

When I asked my girl housemate what she thought, her response was “I did have to bite my tongue when he got home with it”.

I totally appreciated the sentiment of the reward, I just thought it a weird one. Diamonds would have done just fine.

Have you ever been in a situation where you have done something / someone else has done something for you that has been totally misinterpreted?

MUST BUY ALL THE THINGS!

Living in a shared house in the centre of London, I had forgotten how much fun it was to kit a house out when you moved. I resided in a small room that was pre furnished on the ground floor, and pretty much the only thing I could influence was the colour of the throw on the bed, which on the whole, is a pretty depressing state of affairs to a colour magpie like me.

So since I moved a few months back, I have had a renewed urge to buy cute little mugs and duvet covers that match the pillows and everything that falls in-between. And it’s been so fun. My old favourites like Etsy have been called on on a regular basis as I peruse the pages of vases made of old light bulbs and personalised tea towels with the excitement that is normally reserved for booking a holiday, and I have to physically stop myself from reaching for my card to buy a whole heap of unnecessary items.

It was going so well, until I discovered a new site and everything went wrong.

Not on the High Street is the cutest and most fun site I have found in a long time, and it is pretty much singlehandedly responsible for the fun stuff that now lives with me, in my giant hoard of colourful fabrics and moustached accessories.

My absolute favourites are the wall decals. We have a particularly fussy landlord who won’t let us do anything anywhere, which makes me incredibly sad. White walls and wood floors feel sterile to me – its photos and paintings that give a living space life and make it feel like home, rather than a space you are renting. Having a home where I can kick back and chill is key to me, and putting my stamp on it is part of this process.

So when I discovered this awesome wall sticker or a dandelion and birds, it was the simple solution. Stick it on, peel it off later, no one is any the wiser. And it’s turned our drab, white walls into something quite magical. A home. A place where my best friend and I can continue to build on the memory bank we have been depositing in for the last 25 years.

My favourite purchases are:

 Moustache Mug – £25 each | Dandelion Decal – £60 | Owl Cushion – £17

Where are your favourite stores for home shopping?