Nobody actually enjoys going out every night of Freshers’
On the twelfth day of Freshers’ my true love left me
Sainsbury’s own vodka and lemonade, copious amounts of drinking games, meeting new, like-minded people, themed nights and of course, not forgetting an occasional Netflix and chill with the opposite sex.
Sounds good right? Now times it by 12.
Many people define their Fresher’s week as the best days of their life. They must have pretty average lives.
Freshers’ Week is all about first impressions, but 12 nights means plenty more chances to be a tool. No one wants 12 repeats of an over emotional, puking, shitting (insert your own verb here) and God knows what else mess. It isn’t nice, or friendly.
In Freshers’ week you get a real range of people and personalities cutting shapes in the club. There are the boys who are still wearing their tragic ‘Shagaluf’ wife beaters, the girls with shorts being eaten by their arse.
Every conversation starts with “what are you studying”, which becomes an exhausted, overused phrase and you are forced to be friends with people you would normally cross the other side of the road for if you saw coming your way.
Not to mention the dreadful dire days of headaches, shivers and wanting your Mummy after a rotten night at Pryzm.
The worst thought of all though is the realisation that you have to stay here for a term. Not because you don’t love uni, your newly made best buds, the glorious city or the wavy nights out, but because it is not home.
Once Freshers’ Week is over and you curl up into a ball on your spring poking and stained (by ketchup from a week old Uni Kitchen nuggets and chips) bed and you have a little cry. Reminisce over your mistakes, trying to get rid of the guilt and shame, you just want to go home.
You might have enjoyed Freshers’ Week – but you’re the kind of person who lives for Foam Parties, one night stands and new profile pictures. You’re not alone, but you’re not cool.