If you’re reading this, chances are you’ve chosen to join us here at the University of York, the UK’s top “young” University, notorious Oxbridge dumping ground and brutalist, architectural monstrosity. I’m sorry we couldn’t arrange an elaborate, Shawshank Redemption-esque welcome for you where we stand behind chain link fences and chant “Fresh fish, fresh fish” as you arrive. I broached the idea but apparently, it might have given out the wrong impression.
Halls will no doubt be where the vast majority of you will spend this year. You’ll presumably have heard all the halls clichés by now. But I’m here to tell you some stuff you probably haven’t heard, serving as your guide through the murky underbelly of society that we call Halls of Residence.
Now I’ll assume that you know what living in halls broadly entails but just in case, you’re going to be spending the next year in a glorified open prison with as many as 20 people from wildly different backgrounds, living away from their parents for the first time. Most likely you’ll love it, but be prepared to see tears, other people’s vomit and some truly epic bust ups.
First things first, write off every single piece of crockery you own. Spread it all out on the floor and kill whatever emotional attachment you had to any of it, because you’re going to lose about half of it over the course of the year. This is completely unavoidable, it just is. If you’re the sort of person that is bothered by unexplained breakages, you’re going to have to make it un-bother you pretty sharpish, because it’s happening. My advice? Just assume anything you bring into the kitchen on the first day isn’t coming back for summer.
Of course, when people start losing their stuff, they’re going to start using yours, and yes sometimes they won’t wash up. This is also inevitable, so try and relax about it. Of course, you might think to communalise all of the kitchenware and ensure everyone does their fair share of washing up, but you won’t, somebody will object. You’ll know who on the first day, it will be the person who turns up with two graters and a hot stone grill and is still enjoying Duck a L’Orange midway through Easter term while you eat cold kidney beans out of the can.
The next thing you should do is go to the nearest mirror. Take a good hard look at yourself. Done? Good. Now carry on reading.
You may be wondering what that was all about. Well, it’s quite simple really. It’s important you have a moment to remember what you used to look like, because by the end of the year, well, you won’t look like that.
Take myself, still trying to work off my worryingly pronounced double chin and the beer gut I’m fairly sure I lacked last year, made all the more difficult by the other gifts that halls bestowed upon me, namely a poor sleeping pattern and work ethic from one of those 90s Kevin Smith stoner comedies. You may wish to curb this onslaught throughout the year by utilising the University’s many gym facilities, but sadly you’ll probably be doing little more than slowing the advance of the ever beckoning chub, and let me assure you, one innocent smoothie a fortnight makes little material difference.
Finally, there is a certain temptation , particularly early on, to make your flat a sort of surrogate family to replace the one you’ve ‘lost’. This is all very well and good at first but it is important to remember that it’s not technically true. Some of your flat mates may, in fact, have less in common with you than the average tortoise, and they really don’t “have” to like you, unlike, as my own mother is so want to point out, she does.
Luckily the rules for getting along are rather simple: avoid religion, politics and most importantly (I really can’t stress this enough) try and avoid sleeping with anyone you have to sit across the table from at breakfast every morning.
Yeah, yeah, I know. I promised no clichés, but you’re not going to listen- no one ever does.