The absolute best day you could have as a Bristol Uni student

9 am

You wake up to an email that your 10 am has been cancelled as your lecturer is ill – fresher’s flu doesn’t discriminate! With a guiltless conscience, you are lulled back to sleep by the sound of birds faintly chirping outside your window. You wake again at 11 am as the sun filters through your blinds. Rise and shine, diva.

11.30 am

You check the group chat, where everyone has agreed to a communal lock-in after brunch at Rubicon Too. Unlike the 10am, your attendance here is mandatory. You practically float through the streets of Clifton until you find yourself sat outside the cafe with a full English in front of you and an iced latte in hand. Sunglasses on, you debrief last night’s Steam antics with your friends as everyone you have ever met walks past your table. 

1 pm 

Full stomached and happy, you head to the Arts Complex and find it strangely devoid of the usual herd of freshers. They must’ve all taken it too far at Fishies last night. You get a can of Pepsi Max from the vending machine and, surprise! It doesn’t fizz everywhere. You open your laptop, the caffeine hits, and the work flows. The hours escape you quicker than your pint of Thatcher’s Gold did last night (bought by someone you allegedly once kissed in OMG). The only prep your impending seminar requires is reading one article and watching David Tennant’s rendition of Macbeth (don’t have to tell me twice!)

2.30 pm

Since Parson’s changed the price of their meal deal from £4.95 to £5.65 and thought you wouldn’t notice, you make a beeline for Chaya. You end up with a colourful assortment of food from the salad bar and a slice of focaccia that the hot man behind the counter assures you is still warm from the oven. You don’t know where to look. 

3 pm

You sit twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the inevitable mid-day crash to hit, but you’re weirdly excited to annoy everyone by yapping incessantly in your seminar, and you’re pretty sure the hot man winked at you as you left. Emboldened by the academic shift you put in this afternoon, you contribute lots and finally crack the code of how much eye contact to make with your seminar tutor. Everyone is chatty, and even the friend who never shows up somehow made it, texting you last night’s comic inside scoop from under the table.

5 pm

At the end, your tutor thanks you for contributing, and the class swot who tried to prove you wrong gives you a death stare. High on life, you make the bold choice to try and use the Arts Complex toilets before you leave, and there’s no queue! The freshers are awake now, but they’re all in lectures or harassing fourth years for directions. Bonus: the toilet cubicle you’re in actually has soap! Now I know where my 9k a year is going. 

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You step outside. It’s still warm enough to prove your housemate wrong that you would not, in fact, be too cold without a jacket. You go to the group chat to rub it in their face and see 9+ missed messages. Anxious to see who’s in A&E this time, you open the chat and realise it’s just spam from your housemate who’s really proud of the fact they took the bins out for once. 

You get home and realise you haven’t, in fact, been duped; the kitchen is spotless and the bins are empty! Your housemate has also decided that, after indulging too much at Jason Donnervan last night, they want to eat healthy, so they give you the pack of M&S cookies they just bought. You save them for later to heat up when you get in after your night out. All of a sudden, the Sex and the City theme tune summons you to the living room for 30 minutes of mindless entertainment. 

8 pm

You have just inhaled a pizza that will miraculously prevent you from throwing up in the WG Grace tonight. There is a buzz in the air. All around, everyone is arising from their slumber to start getting ready for the night. You hear rummaging in your room and the sound of your speaker turning on: the primal cue to throw you into action. You all get ready in the bathroom, singing and placing your bets on the shenanigans ahead. Glasses of wine are filled as you slide your big Georgian windows up to watch the quiet scenes of Clifton below. The calm before the storm of the Redland house party you’re about to attend. 

10 pm

You arrive at the party at peak time. It’s late enough to be lively but early enough that the neighbours aren’t threatening to report you yet. The night is young, and the alcohol is flowing. You bounce across the room and make the rounds, smugly indifferent to the glare of your ex talking stage (he throws up in a bush and gets taken home an hour later anyway). The digi cam pics are in full swing, and somehow you end up with dominion over the speaker. Hours pass by in minutes, and soon you’re laughing as you sneak out past the neighbours. 

11 pm

You get to the WG Grace in the nick of time (the bouncer stops letting people in after you arrive), and your drunk friend decides to celebrate by buying everyone a shot. Once midnight hits, you head to Brass Pig, where the familiar bouncer greets you with a bottle of champagne. The DJ you’ve met twice is playing and beckons you into the booth. He makes a ceremonial speech thanking you for always supporting him and hands you and your best friend VIP Daisy’s cards. By morning, you’ll feel like death, but today was the best day ever.