The five stages of grief when finding a second year uni house in Liverpool

It’s the end of the first semester, and you’ve spent enough time with your flatmates in halls to determine who’s worthy of a spot in your sacred second year house. Every waking moment spent in your room consists of you scrolling through all the go-to student housing sites (even Zoopla at this point) to find the perfect place for you and your pals to reside in, whilst simultaneously making a mental list of the tidiest boys and friendliest girls that you wouldn’t mind sharing a bathroom with next year. It’s only until after those first viewings though, that you encounter five stages that all university students have and will experience in their lifetimes…

1. Denial

Once you’ve perfected your roster of potential housemates, and whittled it down to just a mere nine or 10, the first stage hits. Denial. This mostly happens due to the realisation that there are in fact, no houses big enough for the lot of you that truly match the aesthetic (or price) that you’re after. You manage to convince yourself that there is something out there, completely ignoring the “no properties found” pop-up on your laptop that is really inconveniencing your search. You also tell yourself that none of your mates will drop out of the house-hunting process, and that you will in fact be living with the all of the boys you adopted from the flat across the corridor – how unlikely.

2. Anger

As you start to branch out a bit more and look at houses in Smithdown and Kensington, fuming that the beautiful terraces in the Georgian Quarter have somehow all been snatched up halfway through your first semester, you book a few viewings. At first, it’s the anger of the 699 bus never turning up in time to get you to where you need to be, and then it’s the rage of being mid-application and receiving a phone call to let you know that your dream house has already been pulled out from right under your feet. But, if you’re one of the lucky ones to have found a property straight away, you haven’t escaped just yet. The second stage of grief manifests itself in the form of the argument you’ll have in two weeks’ time over who gets the smallest room. And trust me, nobody wants the smallest room.

3. Bargaining

If you haven’t found somewhere to live by now, stage three consists of one housemate putting in your group chat: “Guys, surely Kensington can’t be that bad, right?” as they try to bargain with you to lower your standards a little more just to make sure you actually have a place to stay next year (we’re joking, Kenny students – we love you all really). You’re sat in the kitchen debating whether or not a house with a kitchen table, enough beds, or running water is really a priority. You will literally take anything at this point. But then…

4. Depression

Congratulations! You did it! By some miracle, and after your sixth consecutive day of going to viewing after viewing in the freezing cold, you settled on a house. You and your housemates popped a bottle of the cheapest Prosecco you could find in the Tesco Express down the road, celebrated a little bit (quite a lot) in Concert Square that night, and would not stop texting your parents to tell them that the house isn’t old and musty, it’s just retro. But the novelty wears off quickly when you realise that moving in is a whole 10 months away, and that you’re actually stuck in your flat with that one person who’s allergic to taking the bins out for the foreseeable future. This stage of depression lingers over you for the whole of winter as all you can think about is which wall you’re going to put your fairy lights on in your new living room – and everyone is still hung up on who gets the smallest room, BTW.

5. Acceptance

Now the final stage, acceptance, probably doesn’t happen as soon as you think. You’ve succeeded in your mission of finding a second year party gaff – and you’re sure that you’ll be having all your mates round every night for pres before heading out on the lash. But it’s only until you move in that you accept the fact you’re spending half your student loan on buses from Smithdown to campus, and that the 25 minute trek that you thought you’d hot girl walk every morning for your 9am isn’t actually as achievable as you thought.

Your new lifestyle consists of eating Chicago Town pizzas from the corner shop next door because you can’t be bothered to walk to the supermarket, still complaining about the state of the kitchen (except they’re your friends this time) and handing in assignments at the last minute just like you did in first year. The academic comeback you planned for in second year? Non-existent.

No, we’re only joking. Living with your forever friends in your very own house in second year will consist of some of the best (and outrageous) times of your life. Nothing will beat that grown up feeling you get coming back to your own place at the end of the day, and the morning de-briefs will be like never before when you all pile into one person’s bed like the family from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to recount your antics from the previous night out. And the best part? You get to do it all over again in third year!

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