So I’m finally leaving Loughborough today after being delayed due to waiting to move my stuff into my house, and then illness. I can’t say I’m going to miss Loughborough too much because I’m back in two weeks to earn some money.
First year was about discovering my limits physically with the juice and attempting to make friends and make my Yorkshire accent sound coherent to all the southerners who thought (and still think) anything above London is North (I’m surrounded by philistines). Leading on from that, I’d just like to day that if you think anything above London is North then you are the English equivalent of Americans who think every English person knows the Queen (there I’m done).
Second year was all about realising that I’m going to have to say farewell to midweek nights out because the next day I lay curled up in the foetal position with the curtains closed, writing things things that people didn’t like (haters gonna hate) and just growing up in general. If I aged ten years physically during my first year, then I aged about twenty emotionally and mentally in my second. I guess as Blink would say “I guess this is called growing up”:
1) Watching my friend return to university with a bang.
In first year, one of my friends had a bedroom door that may have well as been well been revolving. This girl was a sexual predator in the extreme who I would turn away from for two minutes on a night out to only look back and see her locking lips with a random male who managed to say hello to her and sing her two lines of ”Little Lion Man” before proceeding to play tonsil tennis with her.
On her first night out on second year she was a woman on a mission and managed to ensnare three freshers in the union and strode to the studio the next day with a raging hangover, but ecstatic that she was back in the game so quickly. ”She’s back!” we all thought. Unfortunately, she peaked too early in the year and perhaps it was the nine to five days in the studio that broke her, but her bedroom door did anything but revolve this year.
2) Being introduced to Kangaroo Court.
University has many, many drinking games. One fantastic one I participated in this year is one where you down your cup and get to become ”King” where you get to tell everyone in the room what to do until someone chooses to down their drink. I won’t go into too much detail, but at one of the pres I attended boys were spanked with wooden spoons so hard that I’m pretty sure they looked like they’d had a butt lift by the end, boys’ nipples were sucked and some people ended up half naked. However, the best drinking game is Kangaroo Court, where people are tried and punished for any offence they may have committed. Offences can range from falling over in the mud to having a battery operated device you can order from Ann Summers. The punishment? A dirty pint which will be mixed with everything from alcohol to food.
3) Getting a Landlord who is oh so cool.
So after two years in halls I decided to become a grown up and rent a house for my final year, because quite frankly I can’t face being a twenty one year old writing a dissertation amongst eighteen year olds who are legless after a couple of WKDs (lightweights). My Landlord believes it was ”fate” that me and my housemates got our house with him because when we first met him he was driving a van and handing out leaflets advertising his houses.
In our heads we were thinking ‘Wow, what a creepy guy, let’s not get a house off him” when low and behold he was the landlord of the next house we viewed. The house is gorgeous, and it has a burglar alarm so I’m not that terrified of being burgled, but I have also come to realise that my Landlord isn’t dodgy but actually a well cool guy. This conclusion has nothing to do with the fact he told me that I’m a ”distinctive individual” and that there’s ”no forgetting” me which I’m assuming was a compliment.
4) Seeing fellow English students get a job.
Just a week ago an English student in the year above, and my former fellow features editor announced that she had not only got a job, but a job in London. The added bonus of this is that she is from Huddersfield, a fellow Northerner! With less than a year until I finish my degree I have been asking myself ”What the hell am I gonna do!?”. My friends and family are in Sheffield, but I have more chance of becoming a munchkin than finding a satisfying job there. Spending a fourth year in Loughborough would probably send me batty. Starting a life in the big city seemed like an impossible dream, but with a fellow English graduate straight from the mean streets of Yorkshire starting her life in London, I’m more optimistic that I could also be doing that next year.
5) Actually completing it.
So second year had some obstacles along the way, but despite everything I managed to make it to the finish line. Now, all I have left is two semesters and I am forever free of education, regardless of whatever step I take after. The finish line is in sight, and whilst I am sure third year is going to be full of surprises both good and bad, I am so looking forward to crossing the final finish line and handing in those final essays.