Let’s have a toast for Unite House, Bristol’s best halls

A new September dawns, and this means you are one step closer to the cliff edge of adulthood, with all of its treats including life insurance and buying cat food. Moving out of halls is one of those symbolic indications that you will eventually have to get your shit together.

Those of us who left Unite House are surely the ones cradling the most bruised hearts, dreading growing up the most.

Sure, the mattresses were terrible (springs poking out of them) and the water tasted a bit off, but it was home. Our very own beautiful, majestic concrete palace.

Walking up these steps had you feeling like a monarch

You probably don’t think much of Unite, and that’s why the people who went there – people like me -loved it. No can deny it was the classic halls experience. Ominous, brightly-lit hallways that constructed the labyrinth of magnolia bricks had you wondering if you had accidentally made it into an asylum from the 1930s.

Flats so identical that whilst in the toilet at someone’s party you would question whether you were actually just back at yours. Did you ever even leave? This was particularly comforting when you were in a I’m-talking-to-myself-in-the-mirror-because-I’m-white-girl-wasted situation. Chill babes, go and grab your dressing gown. It’s only down the hall. Or is it?

The precarious lifts carried some serious Henry VIII vibes within their tinny walls – various scrapes and creaks that made you feel like you were about to be beheaded en route to your flat on an idle Tuesday.

And we all know about the forbidden third floor with its mystical powers that summoned lifts only for the doors to open and reveal an empty corridor. People sick of these dastardly tricks sought revenge through body liquid dispersal in the lift on an all-too-regular basis – make of that what you will.

The lift always felt dangerous

One of the most wondrous delights of Unite House was undoubtedly the almighty courtyard. It was the place where people bonded via nicotine during freshers, where an ocean of anticipation filled eyes and Amber Leaf filled lungs searched to see who else’s names and courses they could ask about.

Thanks to the courtyard, seeds of revision guilt were sewn – after binge-watching some Netflix you weren’t sure you even enjoyed in an attempt to procrastinate, you would look across and see someone in their bedroom, face buried in a text book. Sigh. And we all know about the inevitable situation of making eye contact with an unfamiliar face, whilst both decked out in towels and fresh water droplets from the shower.

The courtyard’s role as the showcase space for a wide variety of Bristol’s best road signs was also a handy indication of how many people had indulged in one too many Old Bristolians the night before: nine per cent cider ain’t no joke.

Ridin’ the choppy waves of Unite House

Others share an inescapable love for Unite House. Here’s what some of last year’s residents had to say about the place.

Meredith Gray: “It was nice being kept awake by the sound of heavy metal music from the Hatchet and the noise of people beating the shit out of each other outside of the O2.”

Eliza Hogman: “I loved the cold showers, the windowless hole of a study room and the time a pigeon made a nest under my bed over the Christmas holiday.”

Take away with you the sheer magic of this fort

Harry Vokins: “I liked having everyone really close by, and the builders that peeped through my window one time and saw me at it.”

Evangeline Clarke: “I enjoyed throwing eggs and water balloons from the windows, making forts and living in them for 2 days, and going to the shops in my dressing gown.”

Alex Scott: “Unite reminded me of the kid picked last for sports at school – no ones priority, but there to make up the numbers.”

So there you have it. Unite House is the bees knees, or at least ankles. Look past the odd silverfish and the bad house music that would often echo across the courtyard from someone’s room, and all that there is left to say is thank you. Nothing in Stoke Bishop will ever rival the chaos had over at Frogmore Street. It was our humble abode, and we loved it.