Refreshing.
"There's a certain smell in the air this week. It smells... FRESH." - (paraphrase of) every single student's Facebook status at the beginning of this week.
On Monday night, a group of us watched Avengers Assemble. I was walking to and from my friends' place up the hill, and noticing that almost every light in every house along the road was on. One by one, the students are returning and the new'uns are arriving...
Wednesday night, I was walking up the same road in one of my nicest dresses with the lipstick on thick, texting various friends frantically; my best friend wanted to know when I'd be at his house for the party, my friend from home wanted to know what was going on in my love life (what love life?), and most unexpectedly, my ex-boyfriend wanted to know if I was going to be at the SU for BOP. I then texted another best friend saying: "he's at the SU tonight. Find him and you win gold."
Approximately fifteen minutes later I was playing Ring Of Fire on the floor of my friends' living room, halfway to drunk and laughing a little too loudly.
"Hey Grace, did you bring your camera?"
"Of course!" I pulled my hench DSLR out of my bag and was overcome with excitement. I'm a photo fiend; I take photos of predrinks and parties and will often upload them when I get home from the night out/party. There have been many times when my friends have woken up and found photos edited, uploaded and tagged by 8am. I was running around snapping photos of everyone in all their drunken glory, and I genuinely thought "I'm back, baby."
The night then took a turn for the surreal. I ended up picking up the infamous ex-boyfriend from the SU ("oh my gosh, he actually is here at my uni"), taking him to meet my friends (because I left their party early to pick his drunk mess up), then letting him sleep on my sofa (because I was worried about him trekking back to West Downs, my beloved student village, and disgracing himself or dying on the way). Add my best friend into the mix, who not only popped round my house after BOP, but actually met my ex-boyfriend at the urinals in the SU earlier that night (and then called to tell me all about it, subsequently making my head explode), and you have a night Dali would have considered painting but then decided against it because it was just too absurd. Oh, the boys had a whale of a time spooning on my bed swapping stories about my home, my family and my boobs. I found it hard to hear them, luckily, over the loud ticking of the time bomb in my mind.
Thursday night marked my first ever pub-crawling experience; or rather, Pub Golf. Paired up as a Pro and an Amateur, nine pubs/bars being nine holes and a different drink at each, and having a par of how many gulps to down one's drink in. So basically, you want to down your drink in one (hole in one). The drinks included: cider, Jagerbombs, double rum & Coke, shots of Sambuca, an alcopop, wine, Guinness, and Flowerpot Ale.
I lost track between the fifth and eighth pub/bar, but I'm pretty confident that I won. I did think to myself, somewhere between McDonalds, punching my best friend in the face, and lying in the main road next to the army barracks with the Frisbee captain asleep next to me and the coach telling me about the love of his life, and before coming home to pass out (and wake up still drunk the next morning), "I better have won."
Friday night was going to be a "maybe", but became a mandatory. Still drunk from the night before at 3pm, feeling fragile and needing an outing to the park to wake myself up, I intended to go along to predrinks at my friends' down the road and when they all stumbled off to Frisky at Bar3one in town (because we were definitely not paying £10 to see Sam and the Womp at Freshers' Flirt!), I'd sneak off to bed. A few hours later I was wearing one of my nicest dresses, buying drinks with a friend from Twitter who I'd happened to bump into on the way into town, drunk-dialling various unsuspecting friends and grinding with a gay guy while a remixed and sped-up version of 'Blow Me (One Last Kiss)' thumped through the speakers. Oops.
Saturday I spent the whole day at Freshers' Fayre, behind a table or wandering around outside the SU with the Ultimate Frisbee team, recruiting Freshers and spreading the word about "the most fun sport ever". I wish I'd joined a team last year; I intend to make up for my Fresher laziness by being constantly busy and engaged in all sorts this year. By the end of the day, we'd managed to get 200+ people to sign up. Clearly, the Freshers are much cooler this year. I also went a little crazy at the annual gigantic poster sale, and now my little room looks much better.
Freshers' Fortnight is in full swing. Lectures start tomorrow, and while I'm obviously excited to get back into my course, I'm going to miss the freedom I've had over the past few weeks. Being able to wake up at whatever time I fancy, wandering back and forth between my house and friends', watching Friends and Gilmore Girls all day with the housemates and the random expeditions to town to pick up stuff we need - okay, just stuff.
Anyway, it's my second year. Bring it on.
Wednesday night, I was walking up the same road in one of my nicest dresses with the lipstick on thick, texting various friends frantically; my best friend wanted to know when I'd be at his house for the party, my friend from home wanted to know what was going on in my love life (what love life?), and most unexpectedly, my ex-boyfriend wanted to know if I was going to be at the SU for BOP. I then texted another best friend saying: "he's at the SU tonight. Find him and you win gold."
Approximately fifteen minutes later I was playing Ring Of Fire on the floor of my friends' living room, halfway to drunk and laughing a little too loudly.
"Hey Grace, did you bring your camera?"
"Of course!" I pulled my hench DSLR out of my bag and was overcome with excitement. I'm a photo fiend; I take photos of predrinks and parties and will often upload them when I get home from the night out/party. There have been many times when my friends have woken up and found photos edited, uploaded and tagged by 8am. I was running around snapping photos of everyone in all their drunken glory, and I genuinely thought "I'm back, baby."
The night then took a turn for the surreal. I ended up picking up the infamous ex-boyfriend from the SU ("oh my gosh, he actually is here at my uni"), taking him to meet my friends (because I left their party early to pick his drunk mess up), then letting him sleep on my sofa (because I was worried about him trekking back to West Downs, my beloved student village, and disgracing himself or dying on the way). Add my best friend into the mix, who not only popped round my house after BOP, but actually met my ex-boyfriend at the urinals in the SU earlier that night (and then called to tell me all about it, subsequently making my head explode), and you have a night Dali would have considered painting but then decided against it because it was just too absurd. Oh, the boys had a whale of a time spooning on my bed swapping stories about my home, my family and my boobs. I found it hard to hear them, luckily, over the loud ticking of the time bomb in my mind.
Thursday night marked my first ever pub-crawling experience; or rather, Pub Golf. Paired up as a Pro and an Amateur, nine pubs/bars being nine holes and a different drink at each, and having a par of how many gulps to down one's drink in. So basically, you want to down your drink in one (hole in one). The drinks included: cider, Jagerbombs, double rum & Coke, shots of Sambuca, an alcopop, wine, Guinness, and Flowerpot Ale.
I lost track between the fifth and eighth pub/bar, but I'm pretty confident that I won. I did think to myself, somewhere between McDonalds, punching my best friend in the face, and lying in the main road next to the army barracks with the Frisbee captain asleep next to me and the coach telling me about the love of his life, and before coming home to pass out (and wake up still drunk the next morning), "I better have won."
Friday night was going to be a "maybe", but became a mandatory. Still drunk from the night before at 3pm, feeling fragile and needing an outing to the park to wake myself up, I intended to go along to predrinks at my friends' down the road and when they all stumbled off to Frisky at Bar3one in town (because we were definitely not paying £10 to see Sam and the Womp at Freshers' Flirt!), I'd sneak off to bed. A few hours later I was wearing one of my nicest dresses, buying drinks with a friend from Twitter who I'd happened to bump into on the way into town, drunk-dialling various unsuspecting friends and grinding with a gay guy while a remixed and sped-up version of 'Blow Me (One Last Kiss)' thumped through the speakers. Oops.
Saturday I spent the whole day at Freshers' Fayre, behind a table or wandering around outside the SU with the Ultimate Frisbee team, recruiting Freshers and spreading the word about "the most fun sport ever". I wish I'd joined a team last year; I intend to make up for my Fresher laziness by being constantly busy and engaged in all sorts this year. By the end of the day, we'd managed to get 200+ people to sign up. Clearly, the Freshers are much cooler this year. I also went a little crazy at the annual gigantic poster sale, and now my little room looks much better.
Freshers' Fortnight is in full swing. Lectures start tomorrow, and while I'm obviously excited to get back into my course, I'm going to miss the freedom I've had over the past few weeks. Being able to wake up at whatever time I fancy, wandering back and forth between my house and friends', watching Friends and Gilmore Girls all day with the housemates and the random expeditions to town to pick up stuff we need - okay, just stuff.
Anyway, it's my second year. Bring it on.
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