Going to uni in the North is far better than down South
Wye-Aye are we being mugged off down here?
A few nights in Newcastle have changed my whole outlook on life.
Going to uni in the South, you become accustomed with a pricier way of life. There is a world up North that we don’t know about, where club entry is a mere 80p and taxi drivers are actually happy to drive to and fro. Sometimes they even chat to you.
Is it fair that while students in the North are paying peanuts for bigger and better nights out, we down South are taking huge blows to our loans on sub-standard club experiences? I think not.
And if the concept of low cost entry wasn’t alien enough to my high rollin’ way of life, then came my introduction to the famed “treble”. These concoctions don’t even exist in Kent, so you can imagine the outrage when I discovered that at £1.50, you can have thrice the fun as is achievable at the average bar in the South.
With cheap drinks prices in mind comes my next qualm. Alongside thrifty booze comes a better tolerance of loose behaviour. In fact, hooliganism is encouraged. Down South, you’re lucky if you don’t get looks of disgust from any locals passing the Wetherspoon’s smoking area. But up North, chanting, loud ramblings and side-street tacticals are welcomed with open arms. It’s a life I have only dreamt of.
But drinks and nights out are only the start of it. Paying around £70 a week – a substantial £20+ less than in the South, these Northern students are living in Mc Mansions for less than what I pay to live in a garden shed. Student housing areas come complete with the equivalent to mini-Magaluf strips, with bars and restaurants at every corner and it’s bit like Coronation Street. The houses themselves are spacious, complete with fireplaces and winding staircases, which makes me feel royally mugged off for being sold my house on the premise of a nearby Londis.
And not that they’d ever need to, but should the students of Newcastle ever venture outside their glorious ghettos, there are “BUDGET TAXIS” at hand to drop them right into the city centre for a few pounds. Drivers are happy to stop at cash points en-route and will even call you ‘pet’.
But most of all, Northern uni towns are haven of unpretentiousness – they’re full of those charming red brick houses and free from Pret a Mangers. Give me dingy basements over sash windows and S and M parties over wine and cheese nights any day.
Leeds. Manchester. Newcastle. Sheffield. They’re honest, they’re no nonsense, they’re doing uni right.
I thought I had it so good. But I’ve been living a lie that the North is not worth leaving the beauty of the South for. How is this divide so large?
The harsh truth is that they’ve just got it so much better up there. Sure, the clouds are permanently overcast and there’s a Gregg’s on every street corner, but I’m a changed woman. What I thought was ideal in having a local Carluccio’s is now replaced with bitter disappointment and cravings for a sausage roll. Anywhere but Kent.