HRH to DnB: This is what tattoo you would be based on your Uni of Nottingham halls
On a campus full of catered halls, be like Lincoln
Halls. One would say they are the biggest part of a first year’s personality. The question “Which hall are you in?” isn’t as straightforward as you would think. Your answer instantly decides your place of birth, which school you attended, how many cousins you have and even your blood type. It could be the be-all and end-all of any future companionships you could make at university.
The declaration of your hall is like a tattoo, it’s funny at first, but it’s nothing too serious. You’re in Rutland? No harm, no foul. Or so you thought, because now Hannah, who you met in the Crisis queue, is walking away because she exclusively talks to people from Hugh Stu. Suddenly it’s not a joke and you’re stuck with your tattoo for life. I’ll cut to the chase, here’s what tattoo your hall would be:
Cripps Hall: A portrait of the late HRH Queen Elizabeth
I’m sure you’re not terribly surprised. Whether it’s because they’re an avid Royalist or because they personally know the royal family, a Cripps lodger would have some sort of tattoo honouring their beloved birthplace, the United Kingdom.
A Housing crisis? Not an issue for the Cripps community, because their eight bedroom house in Henley has been passed down through the family for centuries. Is Boris not acting in accordance with their beliefs? They’ll just give him a call – he shared a room with their Dad back in the Eton days.
Signet rings, bleached blonde hair, overpriced Depop clothing and a pony named Toblerone, the people of Cripps as a community frankly aren’t bothered about any of your lesser problems. Do not attempt to start a conversation with them because they only fraternise with each other and they probably won’t invite you on their 40 per cent tax bracket ski trip to St Moritz.
Derby Hall: A drunk mistake
Derby often makes it out of these stories unscathed. Written off as a sports hall, it’s theorised that there’s not much that its residents can do other than throw a ball or score a short corner.
Derby Hall’s students are only a notch down from the average Cripps student but add in being a serial cheater, the statement “No, I’m not that posh!” and being on first team rugby, and you’ve made yourself a resident of Derby Hall.
The “Slut” tattoo was acquired on a night out in Zante. Oozing with sweat, clad in his UNRUC fleece despite the 30-degree heat, Tarquin stumbles into La Tienda de Tatuajes (A tattoo parlour). He’ll tell you he was egged on by his mates, but after 12 drinks he didn’t take much persuading.
The tattoo was etched into his lower lip for a meagre 14 euros. He swears it’s a joke, but unfortunately for him, it’s not very funny. Having exclusively slept with girls with the three Bs (Blonde, BDG jeans and in B-block) whilst simultaneously claiming he doesn’t have a type, Tarquin is not only a slut, he’s a Derby slut.
Hugh Stewart: You can’t sit with us
I’m not saying that everyone in Hugh-Stu has a thin-lined rose tattoo, but I am saying that the residents of this ancient-looking hall are boring and actually quite predictable.
Hugh-Stu is nothing more than a mixed boarding school hidden in the realms of the English countryside. 12 person all-girl friendship groups where animosity and pettiness run free and loud. Clans of boys only seven people large because they must compete in IMS seven-a-side football every Wednesday.
The most thrilling part of the day for an average Hugh-Stu citizen would be dinner, which mimics a scene from Mean Girls. Don’t speak unless spoken to, don’t let your eyes stray and do not sit on a table that doesn’t belong to you. That is unless, you want the wrath of the pastel Croc wearing, Iets Frans donning, Mini Cooper driving, Shapes worshipping, Daddy’s girls. You won’t stand a chance.
Rutland: The biggest dirtiest stinking bass
This tattoo was a stick and poke executed at the tender age of 14 during the sacred rebellious phase, except for our Dutty Rutty residents, the phase unfortunately never ended.
The move-in process was fairly easy: A JBL partybox, DJ decks and three pairs of baggy Evisu jeans. They’re a scary species, never spotted at lectures but somehow bag a first.
CRISIS? Never. Shapes? Maybe. Hidden Warehouse? Yes please.
A trip past Dutty Rutty has a particular stench, let’s just say it’s considerably herbal. The hall is conveniently stationed near David Ross, but a Rutty resident won’t be found at the gym.
Sherwood & Nightingale: Luckily for you, Quidditch is a sport at UoN
There’s not much going on in Sherwood or Nightingale other than book swaps and Pottermore subscriptions. Residents of these halls are lovely, perhaps a little reserved, but they’re happy to listen to you as you babble on and will at times drop a fun fact about the literary world or the most recent episode of Bake Off.
Smiley and too nice to tell you that they don’t want to hear about how you fell down the Unit steps, Sherwood and Nightingale residents are always happy to listen and talk, especially if it’s about Harry Potter.
Cavendish Hall: Just be yourself
In all honesty, I didn’t know where Cav was until the second term of first year and I think that is reflected in the people who reside there.
Let me guess, you changed your entire personality prior to starting university and the tiny unnoticeable heart tattoo on your finger is proof that you’re no longer in year 13 but a somewhat functioning adult.
Your first clubbing experience was Quids In, and three VKs later you were paralytic. You tried it in Curve but your hips did indeed lie, and you soon found your calling in Vinyl.
The entire personality you built for yourself fell through and whilst you aspired to be like those in Derby, Hugh Stu or Cripps, who raved in main room, your night did indeed end singing cotton-eyed Joe with your fellow Cav members.
Willoughby Hall: Nothing more, a lot less
Pasta. That’s all there is to Willoughby.
I approach the subject of Willoughby cautiously and with no excitement, and whilst my tone concerning this hall has remained rather dull, I can muster a slight bit of enthusiasm for its café: Vesper. Any pasta dish you wish, Willoughby will deliver.
The hall is bland but the pasta is grand, and that’s all there is to it.
Beeston Hall: Live, laugh, love
Before you make an assumption, no, Beeston Hall is not basic. In fact, it’s far from it. It’s undeniably unique. Its individuality comes from the fact that it’s not an actual building.
The inspirational tattoo will serve as a reminder for those who reside in this hall, to keep on going, because, without the reminder, I’m not sure they would.
Beeston residents may tell you, and themselves, that it’s not as bad as it seems – but it is. Void of a dining room and subjected to a daily walk to neighbouring halls just to scavenge for food, Beeston is a hall for those who were too late to apply for any actual accommodation.
Every possible influential quote should be used to aid the morale of a Beeston resident. To all those unfortunate enough to call themselves a citizen of this sombre hall, keep calm and carry on.
Ancaster Hall: The Global hub of University Park Campus
If you want to learn 100 different languages, head to Ancaster. Ancaster does what other halls can’t: provide some sort of diversity to the student population.
Whilst UoN is reeling with blonde hair and flared jeans, Ancaster hall is a nice change from the monotony of students from Surrey and places that are too complicated to locate and are generalised as being in the London area.
Students from all over the globe are subjected to dismal English meals and the underwhelming excitement of the yearly John Lewis advert. With such a diverse population, most of whom aren’t used to the dismal English lifestyle, residents of Ancaster Hall haven’t chosen the worst hall but definitely not the best.
Lenton & Wortley: It is what it is
You get what you give with Lenton and Wortley residents. Whilst for Hugh Stewart, dinner is a physical example of the social ladder, in Lenton and Wortley, dinner is for food, rooms are for sleeping, university is for studying and that’s about it.
The best way to describe a resident of this hall is that they’re the type of people you’re friends with during lectures and seminars but outside of that, that’s it. You don’t exchange numbers and God forbid you exchange Snapchat. They’re just your course friend, and even friend is too compassionate of a term, colleague will do just fine.
They smile at you if they see you on a night out but they absolutely will not come and talk to you. They respect the boundaries of your acquaintanceship and that’s it.
Lincoln: It’ll never happen
Lincoln residents aren’t going to get a tattoo. There are far too many risks involved and besides, it could endanger their future profession as librarians.
Applying for a quiet hall tells me quite a lot about the type of people who live there. It’s not that they don’t like the noise, it’s that they abhor it.
They don’t want to knock on their neighbour’s door and ask them to keep it down, they don’t want to call on-campus security to complain about the fact that Tom from next door thinks he’s ShyFX and is remixing Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!, they want none of it. They want to live with those like themselves and to be honest, I don’t really blame them.
Let’s not kid ourselves just for the sake of inclusion, they’re not going to get a tattoo and they don’t want to get one. In fact, they pity those who dare ink their skin because as Kim Kardashian said “You don’t put a bumper sticker on a Bentley.”