All the things I have learnt as a fresher this first term

The good, the bad and the downright ugly


We’ve made it. It’s the last week of the semester and we’ve never felt so many emotions in our lives. We can’t wait to go home to our mum’s cooking, but at the same time we’re going to miss having pesto pasta every damn night. The first semester is done and we’ve learnt a hell of a lot.

Your Freshers’ Week mates aren’t going to be your friends for life

You met Lucy within hours of moving in so obviously she was going to be your BFFL, right? Wrong. By week two you’ll have realised how annoying she is, and how much her voice irritates you. Why did you ever think you were going to live with her in second year? You’ll spend the rest of the year avoiding her and coming up with excuses why you can’t go and wingman her at YOLO like you did in Freshers’.

Me and my friends from freshers

Bye Lucy

You should never pull a rugby boy

Eyes locked on the dance floor. He was fit and you couldn’t believe your luck. Home you went, hand in hand. The next morning, the deed was done. It was underwhelming but at least he was still fit. He left you with hopes of a second date until you saw the same situation happen between him and a different girl in Juice the following Saturday.

People really do shit where they eat

Everyone knows that the first rule of uni is NOT to sleep with your flatmate. You heard about that one pair from Taly who slept together on the second night of Freshers’ and now can’t even cook at the same time.  So you swear to yourself that will never be you, but Jack from across the hall did look especially good the other day with wet hair so maybe you’ll make an exception.

The all important pres pic

You can get away with skipping lectures and seminars, but you probably shouldn’t

There’s no registers so they’ll never know you weren’t there. The lecture slides are all online and you hadn’t done the reading for the seminar anyway so there’s obviously no point going. You tell yourself you’ll have another hour in bed, finish that essay and then make notes on last week’s lectures that you missed. Four hours later, you’re still in bed, but you’re being productive by catching up on Made in Chelsea.

Deadlines come out of nowhere and come all at once

You bumble along through the first four or so weeks and suddenly you have an essay deadline, and another one, and an exam. You’re fairly sure you haven’t actually learnt anything but here you are faced with assessments.

PANIC! You attempt to skim read but that’s easier said than done, so you submit a fairly vague and dragged out essay and hope for the best.

Hands in the air if you love getting 40%

Hands in the air if you love getting 40 per cent

40 per cent isn’t as low as you thought it was

40 per cent you mutter to yourself every time you sit down to work (which isn’t often). That’s half of what you were getting at A-Levels so it is definitely doable. You get your first essay back with a mere 46 per cent and realise 40 per cent really isn’t that low when you don’t know what you’re doing and you haven’t been to a seminar for four weeks. You only need to pass first year though, so you dismiss it and repeat the same process three weeks later.

Stuff is expensive

You got your loan and you were amazed – so much money and an overdraft! Straight to Topshop and £100 quid down and your bank account had hardly been dented.  You made some good pals by buying them all that Revs shot stick every Tuesday for three weeks because you became known as shot girl. Then you actually went food shopping and realised stuff was expensive. You’d have chicken for dinner but that was a fiver, plus the milk, butter and all important vodka. That’s £25 quid down in one small shop.

Then you realise all the stuff your mum used to buy was really expensive you and you’re well and truly screwed.

Post shot stick

Post shot stick

Pres are better than the night out

You’d recently turned 18 so clubbing was so exciting and pres was just part of the night. You quickly learnt that pres is an event in itself. All the girls are glammed up and ready. You take a few pics to show you’re going out and then the drinking games start.

Music is blasting and as people get drunker, the music gets worse/better depending on how much you like the cheesey classics. Pres quickly turns into karaoke and then its 11 and you’re frantically booking a Dragon Taxi whilst stood on a chair and belting out “She wiiiiiiiilll be looooveed”.