Tab Tries: Being an ARU Student for a day
I used to think that the only thing worse than waking up next to an ARU student would be waking up as an ARU student.
After all, the latter isn’t something you can attribute to one lone moment of stupidity, and it’s much harder to kick yourself out of bed. But in the spirit of journalistic integrity, my friend and I decided to make the odyssey across Parker’s Piece to put this particular opinion to the test.
Here’s what we learned:
You can never have too much stash
As a child, how many times did you allow yourself to be dragged round some shitty museum, only just resisting the urge to put your petulant fist through the exhibits, on the strict understanding that your parents would buy you something from the gift shop as you left? Wouldn’t life have been so much better if you could have skipped all the standing around and just gone straight to the bendy pencils and overpriced tea-towels?
Well, whoever designed the ARU campus feels your pain.
After wrestling our way through security (walking straight in), we’d been on site for approximately five minutes before I became the proud owner of an ‘I <3 ARU’ bobble-hat, and a gloriously yellow t-shirt that will see me fending off mosquitoes and men alike. Aware that both would have to accommodate not just my body but also my sense of entitlement, I made sure to get an XL.
Take your optimism elsewhere
I’ve never opened an ARU prospectus, but if the seminar I spied on through the window is anything to go by, I’m beginning to think they may offer my dream degree: ‘How to fail’. To be honest, it sounds like the only thing I’d ever pass. Or would that not be the point?
ARU is the home of haute cuisine
Never mind Pembroke with its measly Michelin star – the culinary delights to be found at ARU are well worth the walk across town. They say that uni is the place where you’ll discover yourself, but I say who cares about that crap when you can discover a pot noodle vending machine instead?
Having endured three terms of Trinity trying to pass off potato footballs as potato noisettes, I respect anyone who can just shove a pot noodle behind some glass without feeling the need to label it a biodegradable noodle vase.
Reading Shakespeare in public is the intellectual equivalent of wearing your gown to Dangerspoons
At least, that’s what I’m assuming from the number of stares I attracted as I reclined on a bench in the middle of the foyer, looking like an overgrown minion in a bobble-hat, and tried to maintain a pensive expression at the same time as instructing my friend to find a camera angle which didn’t make me look as though I had three people’s allocation of chin.
Yep, the Shakespeare was definitely the problem.
Considering my day at ARU consisted mainly of spending money and eating, it was actually remarkably similar to my Cantab life.
Although, at one point, I did actually get within five metres of a lecture hall, which was quite the novelty.