Every stereotype you’ll meet if you live at Carnatic Halls

As a proud inhabitant of Carnatic halls, it’s become clear to me that there is a huge variety of people living here, from the notorious ‘Rugby lads’, and the ‘sesh heads’ to the ‘hermits’ and the ‘hipsters’ – not forgetting the Irish, who you can frankly spot from a mile off. But which one are you?

The LURFC lads (That’s rugby for everyone else)

You’re probably blessed with god-like features, and you 100% know it. You consider yourself to be Carnatic royalty, ensuring that you and the lads get the most central table at dinner, so you can show off your well earned LURFC sweater, your ‘bloody hilarious’ banter and your toned biceps. You’ve probably all jumped in the Carny pond or shaved your eyebrow off at least once after an unlucky game of ‘odds on’, and your snapchats regularly consist of the lads getting naked (‘it’s not gay, it’s rugby’), or drunkenly urinating in ‘piss alley’. Yes, we despise you, but yes, we secretly want to be you. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that behind all the ‘ladish’ behaviour, you are committed, hard working players, and as much as you love abusing your mates, you would probably die for them, and those friendships are worth keeping.

The Irish

Your wardrobe consists of GAA Jerseys and O’Neil’s clothing, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a tricolour displayed somewhere in your room. You know, or at least recognise literally every other Irish person in halls, and most importantly, you LIVE for those Liffey Sundays. You’re forever having to explain your Irish sayings to your ignorant English friends, and feel extra proud when they start adopting the word ‘craic’ into their own vocabulary. You’ve probably had to have a meeting with the Carnatic warden for high noise levels after too many Magners (even though it’s not your fault your voice is naturally louder) and you consider yourself to be an absolute legend for not taking the pussy option and going to Queen’s Belfast with all of your other mates. Oh, and you’ve most definitely been mentioned in the Arriva complaints file for starting off too many chants on the 699.

The 24 Kitchen Streeters

After a week of freshers, and skimming the canteen for the girls in dungarees and bright coloured puffer coats, and the boys with piercings and edgy facial hair, it was easy to find your people. Your hobbies include getting high, and playing music extra loud so all your neighbours know you have good music taste, and you’re definitely guilty of telling everyone you’re from London even though you’re secretly from Surrey. If you don’t own an mandala wall hanging, go to the Shit Indie Disco, dance the night away at SoulJam or buy tickets to every 90’s rave, are you even edgy?

The Gym Lads

Your wardrobe literally only consists of lycra, and your mates have actually stopped bothering to ask if you’re going out tonight, because missing leg day would simply be out of the question. Your Instagram account consists of  carefully angled #gains selfies, and you have a mini rant every dinner time at the fact that the chefs can only be bothered to feed us chips. But we know your secret – so don’t come back to halls pretending you didn’t treat yourself to that footlong subway after working out;) we can smell the Southwest sauce from a mile off.

The Hermits

Aka people who literally NEVER leave their room – Think Howard from Fresh Meat, if he was a Fresher. You all ‘know’ one, but quite frankly, you know more about the Carny cleaners than you know about their life. In fact, you didn’t even know they existed until the second semester. They’re normally a little socially inept (although polite when spoken to), and whenever you see them, you tend to approach them with caution for fear of scaring them back to their room. Occasionally you get a little worried (but not too worried) that they might actually have died, and you discuss between your mates which one of you should knock and check if they’re still breathing. Obviously they’re always fine, and you feel a little silly for panicking when they open the door, and asking if they’re “going out tonight”. Of course they’re not going out! The thought of socialising in a noisy room full of sweaty strangers for hours literally gives them heart palpitations. They may seem strange, and at times a cause for concern, but by the end of the year you learn to embrace your resident hermit, and you begin to realise that that’s just who they are – they’re not dead, or depressed, they just really love their own company – and that’s actually pretty cool.

The Socialites 

If you need them, they’re definitely not in their room. Try next door, or even the next block. Failing that, try the canteen – they’re probably eating their second dinner of the day with their other group of mates, purely for the shits and giggles. Unlike the hermits, these social butterflies are physically incapable of being by themselves for more than 10 minutes. They’re probably really chatty and popular, and they’re the oracle of knowledge when it comes to Carnatic gossip – reason being because they know literally EVERYONE, and somehow everything about them. They can get pretty annoying when you’re trying to meet a deadline but they won’t leave your room because they just HAVE to tell you about Gary from Lady Mountford who cheated on his girlfriend, but every now and then they’re super handy: Want to find out if that fit boy you saw at dinner is single? Want to know who’s going out tonight? Just ask little miss social – she has all the answers.

The Sesh Heads

You’re either a sufferer of serious FOMO, or you’re a massive pushover. Either way, your bank account is suffering. On occasion you try to be sensible and consider that you need to start saving up, but after a persuasive conversation with your mates at dinner, you let them convince you that if you’re already £20 into your overdraft, a few more pounds won’t make a difference, right? Next thing you know, your downing that vodka and lemonade in preparation for another night in Baa Bar. You can occasionally be seen strolling to the canteen at 10:59 on a Saturday in last night’s clothes for a well earned fry up, but despite always telling your mates you’ll come breakfast at 8:45 on a weekday, we all know it’s never going to happen. You literally never turn up to your 9am lectures, or quite frankly anything before 2pm, but hey, first year doesn’t count, right?