What your Smithdown road says about you

Smithdown is home to a plethora of streets and dodgy alleyways, it’s the place most of us not from the countryside like to call home.

After a year of journeys on the 699 it’s safe to say you’ll be able to recite the roads on Smithdown like they were the cocktails you can’t afford in Heebie’s.

But a name isn’t just a title – what does your road say about you?

Langdale Road

It’s impossible to walk down Langdale without sounding like you’re changing rooms in Camp & Furnace between every house. From No. 1 to No.89, all the parties happen on Langdale. Mainly wreck heads, druggie students, and dodgy locals – to step into a house on Langdale is to step willingly into a deep k-hole. When you aren’t suffering from a blocked nose filled with mkat, you’re crying because you wish lived closer to Mini Amsterdam. Langdale is a haven for those who want to avoid doing work at all costs, and of course you can only get a contract if you can prove you own a non ironic bucket hat.

Garmoyle Road

Ah, Garmoyle. The road that never ends. The street bringing all students together in one drunk mess. A walk down Garmy after 9pm is to encounter group after group of students trolling the street to get to their pre-drinks destination. An unhealthy mix of students and Scousers, the street is littered with rogue underwear, forgotten shoes and I-didn’t-make-it-into-the-taxi vomit sprawled across the pavement. Parcels go missing, but the huge quantities of dog poo never do. The residents of this street mirror their surroundings – you’re the ones vomming outside the Raz, the most likley to get caught on a walk of shame, and you’ve probably cheated on your significant other that you left in the midlands. You listen to shit music, but at least you’re enthusiastic about it.

Borrowdale Road

Walking down Borrowdale is a thoroughly harrowing experience. As a result, you live in a constant cycle of fear-shame-SHIT IS SOMEONE FOLLOWING ME-safety-fear. Your eyes lit up in panic when you read that Borrowdale is the most dangerous road on Smithdown a day after you signed your contract. You are often found skipping uni, watching Netflix with a baseball bat by your side because walking to Smithdown to get the bus to uni is too scary for you. If you do make it to uni, you run away from all the promoters and students canvassing on campus – you just want to get on with your Business Management degree in peace, okay! You get taxis everywhere on nights out and you just don’t understand how people can keep talking about how liverpool is “just so safe” and how much of a “bad rep” it gets. You are definitely not living on Smithdown again, that’s for certain.

Barrington Road

Where those who lived in private halls with daddy’s wallet move to, if they can brave the grime of Smithdown in the first place. If you live on Barrington you probably drive a Fiat 500 on your parents’ insurance and spend more time getting ready for a night out than you do in the club. If you make it out, your clutch will be filled with makeup, god forbid you forget to top up your foundation, and if you’re a guy you’ll flinch at the mere mention of someone damaging your crisp shirt. Law student after law student, if you study a general degree and live on Barrington you’ll fit in about as well as someone not in their pyjamas on Smithdown Tesco express. You go home every weekend, and if it’s not Level, it’s not happening.

the exquisite decorations around Smithdown

Avondale Road

Avondale is the place where wild animals go to die. In the tranquility of the quietest road in the ‘dales, the dullest students potter about their daily lives. These students own sensible waterproof coats. They cook large stews at the weekend and freeze potions to nibble on during the week. In other words, Avondale residents are middle-aged twats who already think they’re 45. And they love it.

Brookdale Road

Altogether tame. A brook isn’t a river – its a pathetic excuse for one. So it obviously it follows that the students of Brookdale are pathetic excuses for Liverpool students. No one hears your parties, no one hears your voice. You’re the silent ones in seminars, the faceless mouse in the library who owns a flask. You’re the kind of people who wouldn’t get pissy if a Scouse baby vommed down your new coat on the 75 ride into uni. In fact, you’d probably offer to hold the baby while the mum foraged for tissues to clean you up. You live in the sidelines, your life is a sideline. The fly on the wall and all that. Brookdale Road exists sure, but only as one of the roads between Avondale and Langdale. If there was a minority group on campus that the Guild needed to campaign for, it would be the Brookdalians – except you won’t want to take part. Too much attention.

Lidderdale Road

There’s something mysterious about this road and its inhabitants – something sensual. From it’s name to its positioning on Smithdown (it’s basically allerton) it oozes mystique. The girls there are all brunettes, with long flowing hair and deep brown eyes. The men all have knowing smiles and a tussle of messy hair. You’d fancy them if you ever saw them for more than ten seconds as they float through campus. They probably all wear clothes from unknown designers, of flowing design, study philosophy and use unbranded toiletries bought of gypsy women in markets who also tell them their fortune using matcha tea remnants in antique Japanese tea pots.

Gresford Avenue

You’re tragic. Seriously, you’re a walking advert for National Accident Helpline. You thought you could live on a road which is constantly rife with attempted break-ins, police calling at your door and house parties being filled with drug dealers. But you just can’t can you? Your houses are often falling apart – just like your love lives. Speaking of love lives, they revolve around getting with every single person at the Raz (which feels less acceptable now your degree actually matters) and the occasional date where you get horrifically drunk by accident and take them back to your damp, dank room afterwards where they say you’re too drunk to have sex with. You’d have thought that being on the same road as the corner of that really fecking weird costume shop and Frank’s Bar would have been enough of a warning. But hey, you’re having a wild time pondering what the next night out will do to your sanity.

Arundel Avenue

These people are basic bitches, no one even knows they exist. Bless ’em.

Smithdown itself

Students who live on Smithdown don’t give a shit about life. They willingly chose to live above a chip shop for the 50 a week rent and don’t care about smelling like the contents of the fishmonger section of Morrison’s when in their lectures. Convenience for you is of the up-most importance, being able to walk straight onto the bus stop from your door is why you live in a nine bed house which is seriously made for five dwarves. Let’s be honest, you’re that lazy you left your house-hunting until the last minute and as such, all those Kenny houses you adored have gone. You’re still a tad bitter, but you’re so chilled and vibesy you don’t care anymore. C’est la vie.

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