Pre-Fresher Fears

When I woke up today, I was suddenly struck by the daunting realisation just two weeks remain until I arrive at Exeter as a fresh-faced undergraduate.

Don’t get me wrong, I am extremely excited by what lies ahead, but it still remains to be said the prospect of leaving is extremely harrowing.

The worry stemming from this mix of excitement and fear is not the sole prospect of leaving home.

Having lived on Guernsey in the Channel Islands all my life, you would normally assume my fear comes from moving from a ‘small pond’ to a ‘big pond’.

No. It’s not the fear of the size of the pond; it’s the fear of the mad shit I’m almost certain Freshers will entail.

In two weeks’ time, I worry that, under the label ‘Fresher’, I will be a victim of the totalitarian regimes of second and third year students.

Jack Nicholson’s Joker was allegedly based on college experiences.

Speaking to my older brother about this matter, a recent Durham graduate, he simply retorted with a series of anecdotes about the horrendous treatment of little Fresh upon their arrival.

Some of the stories were so shocking that I struggle even to recount them here.

Well, okay, not that bad.

But still, having already ingested a third of a bottle of vodka, it would be a fairly grotesque to chug as many cans of cold spaghetti o’s until I vommed violently just in order to get into the university tiddlywinks society.

Perhaps, I’m over thinking it. And of course, it would be unwise to assume the university I’m about to join is simply a collection of primitive beings who enjoy watching pipey Freshers squirm. To assume so would be very insulting indeed.

Moreover, Freshers’ Week failings may not derive from third parties – but from ourselves. In an attempt to ‘break the ice’, I could end up paralytic, rolling in my own vomit, in a supine foetal position, in the middle of the Freshers’ Ball.

I mean, my drunken dancing is a spectacle to see, but that would really leave the wrong impression in peoples’ minds.

Well, worries aside, my brother also reminded me to acknowledge that the hazy and mad week of Freshers will be one of the best memories I have of my time at Exeter.

I shouldn’t really worry at all. Beer has made me friends in the past. I’m sure it will get me through the next three years.