I had a great time, but please don’t make me go out again.
I still don’t really know how it happened but I somehow passed my A-levels and got into uni. Which was fab and all, until I realised that getting in wasn’t the hard part. The last six weeks have actually been more stressful than the ones leading up to my exams. I had to find a place to live in a city I’d been to about once before, and figure out how to leave supermarkets without impulse buying decorations for a flat I didn’t have yet. Not to mention how hard it was saying goodbye to everyone I remotely liked, realising I was leaving them behind as I ventured out into the big wide world, aka London.
But don’t worry, it’s FRESSHHHERZZ’ WEEEKK. A tradition as old as half-price pitchers, it’s common knowledge that the first week new students spend at university should be filled with as much drunken debauchery as the money you’ve got to tide you over till loan day will allow. I was determined to be a really cool fresher and not get shit-faced in front of potential new friends, but on the very first night I drank a bottle of wine with my flatmates before going to the SU bar and told everyone I could find that I’d just arrived this afternoon while they looked at me like ‘duh’. Bit keen.
Oh, and I got mugged, but it was only a fiver so I’m pretending that it was a deposit payment for the privilege of living somewhere exciting.
I’m actually looking forward to lectures starting now, partly because I want to do some serious learning, but mainly because I can’t handle another night out. The thing about freshers’ is it’s impossible to have a night in because when you try, you start feeling like an incredibly boring person and worrying that you won’t make any friends that night, and that you’ll spend the next three years crying in your room. Which I’ve only done once, but that was mainly because moving away from home and getting ready for university is legit really stressful.
Spending all your time getting trashed with strangers leads to some amazingly weird nights out though. Going out in Shoreditch with the friends of a girl I’d met once before, to find nowhere was open and spending £8 on laughing gas springs to mind. Or bombing MDMA wayyyy to late into the party and coming up just as everyone was heading home was also a little strange - I spent all night sleepily gurning in a stranger’s bed.
It feels like all the parties are fuelled by a collective fear of missing out
Freshers’ week is basically fucking great, but a bit intense. It feels like all the parties are fuelled by a collective fear of missing out – nobody wants to be a loner at uni so we’re all desperately shouting about how great we are, and how much fun we’re having, to the first set of potential-BFFs we can find. My advice to anyone starting university would be to just chill out a bit. I’ve been here a week now and it’s been wild, but I still haven’t completely settled in and met the most amazing people ever. I’m just telling myself it’ll all work out while drinking another beer.
I’m quite looking forward to about three weeks from now, when everyone’s settled in a bit and I have proper friends I really like so I can stop having anxiety dreams.
That said, I’m totally crashing all the fresher’s events next year.
Read next: Our worst freshers’ week stories
Image: ucluphotosoc via Flickr