What your halls say about you
Are you a Carni creeper?
Liverpool uni is host to hundreds of students in what seems like hundreds of halls.
It’s painfully obvious that your halls define your personality. Once you’ve paid that deposit your destiny is set. Are you a Carni creeper or a Crown Place princess?
Greenbank – Children of the demolition site
You ended up in Greenbank for one of two reasons: you thought it wouldn’t be quite as shit as Carnatic or you had your application rejected from Crown Place. Either way you probably didn’t look round before you agreed to moving in.
However this is no bad thing. Overseen by the great Ian Megedera, those in Greenbank are basically the more highly evolved cousins of those in Carnatic. Avoiding the pampering of Vine Court and Crown Place, whilst also not becoming engaged in the ape-like posturing and poop flinging that comes with living ten minutes up the road, Greenbankers are defined by what they are not – wankers.
Living in combined blocks of 40 people, they learn to tolerate all walks of life, all kinds of fun (like packing into tiny corridors for pres) and never getting on the 699 before a night out. There might be a few too many lads and medics but they’re all just part of the rich tapestry that is the residents of Roscoe and Gladstone, now in its last year.
Rankin Hall – The pill and sex fiends
The rank glory that was Rankin hall. It looked more like a prison than the other Carni houses, but you don’t find people this edgy in prison. You find them asking for guest list on Kitchen St. Facebook events, or in Resurrection.
Just as edgy as Salisbury residents but with less money – Rankin is the hall that never sleeps. Even exams don’t stop the awful music echoing through the corridors. Residents were always off their faces or fucking each other, and everyone know everyone’s business.
Salisbury – The ket heads
Remember that time people were Yakking that there was a drug raid in Salisbury? Remember when we all believed it?
Salisbury was the troubled child amongst the relatively normal other halls, plagued by debauchery, hedonism and liberal drug use – or so they’d like you to think. Although the latter is probably true, the charade is spoilt when you realise students can only afford the drugs because of “mummy and daddy” and they only have time to do it because they study international business.
If you live here it’s likely you’re in one of two places – either you’re just trying to get on, occasionally dipping your toe in the supposed narcotic orgy because now you’re at uni you’re a “new person”, or you’ve been smoking amber leaf for three years already and likely have liquorice papers to match.
You’re edgy in the most deplorable sense, kitted out with New Balance shoes, an Adidas jacket you got from a charity shop and a baggy of Ket in your sock. You may not add to society but by god you add to the ~vibe~ of Carnatic.
McNair – Work hard play hard
What the fuck happened to McNair? Last year, if you lived there, you were the gods of Carnatic. You could cause power cuts at the flick of a switch, have parties that could be heard from Salisbury, and still get to breakfast first because you lived the nearest (the jokes on you Rankin).
Now, apparently everyone hates McNair. They’re probably just jealous. Work hard, play hard is the motto of this Marmite hall – silent at exam time but raucous after hours. Their drug of choice is more likely to be ritalin rather than cocaine. Get pumped, do your work, then pre-drink catch-up from 10:30pm until you’re vomming in the best bathrooms in Carnatic (Trust me, try the middle shower on C2). You’re slumming it with the best when you live in McNair and don’t they fucking know it – too cool for Carnatic and all that.
You don’t stop smoking weed. Like seriously, you’re constantly high. You’re studying a Humanities degree – perhaps History or Philosophy – and it’s fine that you’re spending all your student loan on the good stuff, because it helps you come up with more succinct, “deeper” arguments in your essays. However you don’t know why your lecturers don’t appreciate your opinions on the meaning of life and you just receive a pass – what’s their problem, you’re the next fecking Karl Marx?!
Carnatic dinners for you are perfect because it solves your munchies to the best degree. And you love being the furthest away because it means you can get away with all your hotboxing and spaced out conversations on the green. You’re probably lighting up as we speak.
Morton House – Desperate to work harder play harder
Oh bless, you’re so far away. Just stay in your small bedroom and everything will be okay. You’ll be out of this hell hole soon, don’t worry. Keep going to Raz every Monday, convince all the other halls that you are indeed as “wild” as them. Those who hid in the segregated Morton House were desperate. Desperate to party, desperate to get their essay in a week before it’s due and desperate to pull. They’re charmers, who are desperate to please everyone. They’re a reliable for a mad night out, but just be prepared to deal with them arriving at pres at 11pm because they promised their best friend they’d work late in the library together.
Vine Court – Bow down peasants
You live a life of luxury: double bed, en suite, you like to be comfortable. Fuck all those peasants living in off campus accommodation, am I right?
You’re the definition of first world problems, don’t pretend your life isn’t over when the lift breaks and you’ve gotta walk up and down those stairs. The fine for locking yourself out your room or losing your key card is the most dramatic thing that’ll happen in your flat and everyone will know about it.
Oh, and thanks to your RA kicking everyone out at 11pm you’ll never fully understand the definition of a “mad pres”. It’s alright, stay oblivious. What you don’t know won’t kill you, right?
Crown Place – the better, fitter older sister of Vine Court
The crème de la crème of student living: Crown place is the Regina George of halls … and its residents know it. Popular and a little bit hotter than everybody else.
Your self-catered en-suite bathroom with ¾ bed will set Daddy back £140 a week, so needless to say you’ll appreciate the finer things in life. Dinnertime will consist of lobster, with a confit of winter vegetables. This and a wealth of lively political debates about the EU crisis with your flat mates, who probably spent the summer on a journey of self-discovery in the South of France.
Saying this, Crown Place has been known to host some of the best pres on campus, though with only Vine Court to compare with it’s hardly the accolade of the year. People are always up for a cheeky night at the Raz (outside of exam period- obviously), and you’re never too far away from a game of “Never Have I Ever.” Just make sure by 11pm there’s no sign of life as the noise police, aka residential advisers, take no prisoners and will put your fun to an abrupt end.