If you do these endearingly boring things you are the ‘Uni Grandad’ of the group
Everyone has that mate who is basically already a retiree
The Uni Grandad is an endearing character, in exactly the same way your actual grandad is. He's always a bit behind the times and that suits him just fine thank you very much.
He's never understood what all the fuss is with Facebook, or any social media really, and assumes Kylie Jenner is one of your friends from home, considering how much you talk about her.
It’s the simple things in life that satisfy him. He doesn’t need an aesthetic Instagram or to be generally in the loop with what his peers are doing.
He minds his own business and is completely independent, religiously sticks to the same daily routine, and doesn't really embrace many aspects of classic uni culture. However, when you finally manage to get him on a night out he absolutely goes for it.
He has the same morning routine every day and it starts early
In the same way as when your real-life grandparents come over to stay, they'll be up and showered at the crack of dawn, and then sorting things out around the house. Spending the morning pottering around the kitchen, putting away clean dishes, and having their bowl of unimpressive cornflakes. It’ll be a good two hours before everyone in the house begins to rise.
He eats the same boring food for breakfast every single morning
He doesn’t like change and finds it unsettling, so will have a regimented morning routine. He sits at the kitchen table, listening to the radio to update himself on current affairs, whilst chomping down a bowl of very average Cornflakes. He doesn't have time for Coco Pops, too childish, and the concept of Nutella on toast is way too fun.
If he's feeling particularly exotic, then he might treat himself to a bowl of porridge with a sprinkling of sugar. But it has to be a special occasion for such an event – maybe he has a test later and will need his energy, or it's a particularly frosty morning and he needs warming up.
His downtime is spent very differently to the rest of us
When he does decide to take a break from doing all of the reading for his seminars, he won’t slouch down and pop Netflix on, no way. He’ll choose to do a sudoku or a crossword puzzle, or read an actual, physical newspaper. You'll often hear him muttering about how reality TV rots your brain as he passes you slumped on the sofa in front of your eighth episode of Geordie Shore.
He's that person who will buy the discount card for the uni bus instead of just paying cash because he loves savings
There's nothing he enjoys more than getting a good deal. By pre-buying bus tickets he realistically saves about 40p on each journey but is insistent that he will not needlessly waste money on something as trivial as a bus fare. The day he runs out of bus rides on his pre-paid card, he'll be walking to uni until he can top it up, no way he's paying full price.
His phone is the biggest lump of brick you've ever seen
The fact he doesn't use social media is bad enough, but his appallingly ancient phone makes him an even harder guy to track down. Nobody is harder to make arrangements with.
He only ever turns his phone on to make a specific call and the rest of time it remains switched off in the pocket of his Helly Hansen anorak. The battery on his Nokia has already lasted for a week and he wants to see how far he can push it before the annoyance of having to charge it.
There is no way he'll buy into any of the fancy toiletries that are on the shop shelves
He thinks they are all a farce. What’s wrong with a good old fashioned bar of soap anyway? He’ll save a fortune as he only needs a bar of Imperial Leather to keep clean. He will never be conned into buying the £3 shower gel, and then the shampoo AND conditioner. Absolutely not. His philosophy is if it wasn’t on rations, I don't need it.
His meal deal choice is so old fogey it hurts
Every single time he'll go for the Ploughman’s (no mayo), a packet of Walker’s Ready Salted crisps and a bottle of sparkling water, own brand not San Pelly. Chicken and Bacon sandwiches are for posers, BBQ Rib crisps simply aren't enjoyable, and a bottle of Fanta will have him running around like an imbecile head-butting walls all afternoon like the rest of the young buffoons out there.
If funds are running low and he can't afford the exuberance of a meal deal, it will be homemade ham and cheese sandwiches every single day until his next student loan drops.
You will never see him in a nightclub…
He will go to the pub if, and only if, it has an open wood fire, a pub dog, and a very flat, warm ale on tap. When you do see him out and about, you’re always so happy to have seen him and leave the encounter thinking that you should make more of an effort to keep in touch with him, in the exact way you do with your grandparents.
…but on the rare occasion he does go out out it's a night to remember
For you the typical uni night out is routine by now. Get fucked at pres, go to the same bog standard uni night, drink a few VKs, inevitably fall out with at least one of your housemates, get some cheesy chips on your way home to drown your sorrows.
The Uni Grandad doesn't know this routine, though, and he re-writes the rules on a night out. Like when a puppy experiences snow for the first time, the spectacle of a proper night out amazes the Uni Grandad, and you'll stick with them all night as they're capable of anything after a couple of drinks, the lightweight.
His dress sense is always so appropriate for the conditions outside
He is way too mature to dress inappropriately for the weather, he’ll always get it spot on. If it’s raining, then he’ll wear a cagoule and a pair of pencil straight outdoor trousers. If it’s cold, then he’ll be armed to the teeth with wool – a hat, a pair of gloves and scarf will make it so every inch of their skin is covered. Whatever the weather he will always be prepared.
Every night, he will have a hot brew before he goes to bed
This is his night-time ritual as he always sleeps better after having a night cap. He’ll never miss out on this part of his daily routine. Around 10pm, he’ll slowly rise from the sofa and pottersover to the kettle.
All is peaceful and he's feeling content as he relaxes and lets the stresses of the day leave his body. It won't be long, however, until his flatmates charge into the kitchen, hijacking his peaceful evening, putting their best efforts into persuading him to join them for a night on the town.
The answer is never going to be yes in this situation. He'll take his leave, retiring to his bedroom saying "Better not guys", glancing down at his mug, stifling a yawn. This is his way of saying that he is going to bed to get a healthy eight hours and he doesn't wish to be disturbed.