Here’s what your summer plans say about you as a Glasgow student

It’s that time of year again: Exams are done, deadlines are no more, and Kelvinbridge is suddenly a sea of linen trousers and iced lattes. But as we all scatter across the globe (or down the M8), our summer plans say more about us than we’d like to admit.

So, here’s what your summer holiday plans say about you. Spoiler alert: It’s not always flattering.

Interrailing Europe: You peaked during Erasmus

You’ve posted the same story of the Amalfi Coast three times with the caption “never leaving”. But you are leaving, even though you already missed your hostel check-out time and your Ryanair flight is in five hours.

You’ll be flat broke by week three and end up crying in a laundrette in Prague over a €9 Aperol Spritz. Your personality is 40 per cent Depop and 60 per cent “let’s split the bill evenly”, and you’ve probably fallen out with the friends you’re traveling with.

Working at a festival: Will trade morals for a free ticket

You told everyone you got “a sick gig with a media company,” but you’re actually wristband-scanning at 6am in a muddy field outside Dundee for minimum wage and a leftover burrito.

You say you’re just “here for the vibes” but haven’t showered in four days and your tent collapsed on night one. You will have trench foot by the time September rolls around.

Living with your parents: The recession’s favourite child

You’re not travelling, not interning, not “grinding”, you’re just vibing.

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Every plan you make falls through because you’re 45 minutes from civilisation and your mum keeps asking you to “just pop to Big Tesco real quick”.

You’ll spend the whole summer in your childhood bedroom questioning your degree and making niche TikToks about it.

Internship in London: Capitalist slay

Congrats on your big girl job!

You’ve been LinkedIn-posting like you’re the youngest-ever partner at Deloitte, but you actually spent the week reformatting spreadsheets and apologising to people on Teams.

You’re paying £1,200 per month to live in a shoebox in Zone 3 and pretend Pret is a personality. Still, you’ll come back to Glasgow in September smug and slightly unbearable (and grateful for the non London prices).

All-inclusive in Tenerife: Human traffic cone

You’re here to drink your weight in vodka slushies and get third-degree sunburn on day one. Your suitcase is 98 per cent Boohoo and the hotel wristband hasn’t left your arm in 10 days.

You have no idea what time it is, and that’s exactly the point. You will get a tattoo of a palm tree on your ankle. You will cry in a club called “Aqua Lounge”.

Staying in Glasgow: Core character arc

You say you’re staying in Glasgow to “catch up on reading,” but actually you just didn’t book anything in time and now your only plan is to aggressively haunt Hillhead Bookclub and act like you’re discovering the West End for the first time.

You’ll start going on “hot girl walks” and re-downloading Hinge. Bonus points if you romanticise your Partick flat like it’s a Parisian studio.

Finding yourself in Bali: Actually losing yourself

You booked this because a TikTok girl with a nose ring and a yoga mat told you it would “change your life”. Now you’re being spiritually cleansed by a man named Geoff who moved to Ubud from Croydon in 2014.

You’ll do a juice cleanse, get stung by a jellyfish, and come back saying things like “the West is just so… disconnected.” You are insufferable, but glowing.

Working the Edinburgh Fringe: Glorified flyer goblin

You told everyone you were “working in the arts” this summer, but in reality, you’re being paid in leftover hummus to hand out soggy flyers in the rain while dressed as a Victorian ghost.

You haven’t seen a single show you weren’t guilt-tripped into by a flatmate, and your main food group is Tesco Meal Deal and mid-tier lager. Your Fringe flat has six people in one bedroom and someone will cry in the shower. But you’ll still call it “transformative” in a BeReal caption.

Volunteering abroad: The morally superior friend

You’re doing something genuinely admirable – whether it’s teaching English, building schools, or saving turtles. That said, we get it. You have compassion and Instagram highlights.

You’ll come back saying: “I just feel like I’ve changed,” and suddenly your dissertation is about the ethics of volunteering, even though you’re a statistics student. You’ll always win moral high ground, but you’re one anecdote away from becoming That Gap Year Friend.

So wherever you end up — sunbathing, spreadsheeting, or sobbing in the rain – just remember: everyone’s pretending their summer is perfect. Except the guy who got a Bali tattoo. He’s actually thriving.