Everything you’re missing about your uni house right now

Let’s be honest, everything that you’re missing about your uni house right now is everything that has anything to do with it.

Whilst it’s true that it has been lovely being waited on hand and foot because at home you are mummy’s little prince/princess. Having a dishwasher that isn’t full of rancid old food and a washing machine sans lumpy balls of long hair has also been really great. The heating on constantly without someone screaming the house down about it has been another highlight. For some reason, a month has felt like far too long.

Sure, living with a load of people that are your age does have its issues; the mess, the smell and the arguments to name a few. But now you’ve got to the point where you’ve realised that you’d do anything for just one more day in a shitty house with your mates.

Chatting shit for any reason, at any time of day

I miss making five cups of tea a day for the sole purpose of chilling with my housemates and chatting about absolutely anything under the sun. Last night’s drunken antics, who’s going to take the bins out, small talk about the weather, shouting insults at each other, weighing up whether to do a food shop today or tomorrow. Anything! Please!

Those days after you’ve all been on a night out and all you do is lie on the sofa watching supermarket sweep like the pathetic slugs you are

Can I slob out in my PJs after a heavy night with my mum? Absolutely not. I miss waking up feeling rough as anything, crawling into my housemates room and ordering the first Deliveroo delicacy that comes to mind, without being made feel guilty about it. It also goes without saying that there is nothing quite like that feeling when you hear the sound of the doorbell ringing and you know that it is time for everyone in the house to devour three different McDonald’s meals together whilst watching trashy tv; wrap of the day, I love you.

Only giving your kitchen a proper clean when it was time to throw a bangin’ pre drinks

I really can’t wait for the day I can sit round the kitchen table feeling wonky while the house’s resident DJ blares their Spotify mix out a Beats Pill, or whips their decks out if they’re feeling generous. I even miss spending that 20 mins trying to avoid ordering the Uber but ending up doing it anyway. Sitting in my bedroom drinking G&T cans, and watching as my mates’ faces get stuck in an unflattering position on Zoom is starting to lose its comedic effect after the 1,000th time.

The drunken photoshoots aren’t the same on Zoom either. Let’s face it, everyone is getting really bored of seeing people’s laptop screens on their Instagram stories as if they’re trying to prove that they still have friends despite the lockdown. I just want my multi-coloured strip lighting back. Please. 

Actual. In real life. Nights out

I miss dancing with my mates. Getting too drunk and ordering everyone who’s with me at the time a bev. Queuing for the toilet for god knows how long to then try and jam three of us girls in one cubicle for a team pee. Then to walk out and compliment the nearest stranger on their outfit, instantly becoming best mates.

The piles of mess that continue to grow until one of you breaks and deep cleans everything

The stray socks on the stairs, the pile of unwashed dishes next to the sink, the traffic cone in the garden, the filthy rug we found we chose to decorate the living room with and the chips stuck in between the sofa cushions. I miss it all, and why? Because that’s what makes my uni house a home.

That musky smell that you can never get rid of no matter how much Fabreeze you use

From when you open the front door and you’re hit by the stale smell of one of the ground floor bedroom’s the occupant of which hasn’t changed the bed sheets or hoovered all year, to when you go into the kitchen and open the fridge and a rotting dairy like aroma wafts out, or when you go to have a shower and you can smell the hair filled drain and limescale coated everything. It’s the predictability that I really miss. 

The houseplants that you bought at the start of the year to make your room zen

Inevitably, all now deceased. Sob. To think that you nurtured those babies for months and now they have been left to the impossible task of fending for themselves is truly heartbreaking. Next year I will be purchasing Ikea’s finest fakes in order to avoid this agony.

The constant noise that gets worse the more you think about it

Is it a rocket launching on our road or is it the sound of our decrepit tumble drier? Who knows.

Sure, it’s annoying at the time to be woken up by that one housemate who actually attends 9ams or the group of freshers standing in your room having the house viewing that you forgot about, but it’s making me feel uneasy sleeping so soundly at home. On top of this, there is the reverberation of the walls caused by the house’s resident dj perfecting their latest set blissfully drowning out the ranting of whoever is unhappy with the thermostat temperature on any given day. That is something that cannot be recreated at home in Surrey.

Plus, there’s no chance of an official noise complaint at home when the loudest the house gets is when the vacuum is on. I want the threat of war with my non-student neighbours back. Life is dull without it.

The top shagger/vomit charts that have been neglected for months now

Or the equally highly valued, annual university naked calendar, all of which are up in the kitchen, none of which have been added to in months.

Fashion shows where you show off all of your latest purchases with the sole intention of getting compliments from the rest of the house

Showing off my latest purchases to my housemates is the best. For one, they’re honest when I ask them how I look. I miss being excessively complimented if they rate the look, and can trust they’ll (lovingly) rip me to shreds if I look trashy. Buying clothes I’m not going to have an opportunity to wear, to then be asked ‘don’t you have enough clothes?’ by my ‘rents is soul destroying in comparison.

Lastly, the summer

Uni houses have undoubtedly been struck down in their prime this year, leaving us to dream of burnt food on disposable barbecues, tinnies and tanning in the grotty garden for yet another year.

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