“You didn’t go out until your FOURTH night? What kind of Fresher’s Week is that?” I hear you cry. Well children, Mama T don’t do it like she used to, ok? Besides, the first three nights I was having dinner with family and settling in. My first night out was more reminiscent of my ERASMUS days, with a mix of European nationalities represented. Haggis nachoes were involved, as was a moderate amount of alcohol and only a little grinding. We went to one bar in the Student Union and it was like walking into a sauna, stewing with fresher’s hormones and not-so-fresh smells. We immediately exited, muttering and grumbling like OAPs.
In other news, I have an Edi GBF from Spain, one friend in my halls of residence (another ethnically confused English person), and met some Germans (of course). I have met most of my course tutors and course mates, amongst whom the USA is markedly over-represented, but I like everyone I have spoken to so far. Oh, and remember that giant kitchen I mentioned? Yeah, it’s a hotbed of social awkwardness and confusion, with everything so spread out that I hit my pedometer’s step target just by making breakfast.
Despite banging on about being a mature student, I am thrilled to share that apparently here, I have aged backwards. In London people always think I am older than my 25 years, but here, every single person who has ventured a guess has been in the 21 – 23 range. Someone described me as “carefree”. Perhaps I am subconsciously channelling more youth. We’ll see how it is when the work starts piling up.
As it stands I am developing a head cold, doubtless from having caught some fresher’s lurgy, the heating in my room is not working and I feel as exhausted as if I’d done Fresher’s Week the proper way, partying every night. Someone get grandma a hot toddy?