Being working class at uni isn’t at all “cute”.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t buy you much for mother’s day. I’m a student.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t send you a card but I’m a student and posting things is expensive.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come out for your birthday. I had to buy A TONNE of books’

All lies we students use when we’ve spent the rest of our student loan on nights out and revision sessions (aka ‘freak-the-fuck-out’) sessions on ASOS.

Like many students, I took a gap year before starting my time here at the University of Sheffield because I wanted to find myself. And by ‘find myself’ I mean ‘find myself a way out of the hole that I’d got myself in to after fucking up my A-levels.’

Yes, I had to seriously reconsider some lazy decisions I had made during my time at sixth form and had to bite the bullet and re-sit some exams. Whilst re-sitting, I worked part-time to help pay for the many things I was going to need upon starting university, not to mention the much-needed cash to fund that ever-so-important binge-drinking week formerly known as ‘Fresher’s.’ If you think it’s reasonable to ask your parents for money to fund your Fresher’s, antics then I don’t think they’ve done a very good job parenting.

With a ‘decent’ amount of money behind me, I thought I was going to be rolling in alcohol, mixing with loads of students at loads of cool Fresher’s activities. I was wrong. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’m a super-savvy-saver and didn’t think it was plausible spending £10 on a t-shirt and an entry to a bar or because I was just generally quite poor and couldn’t fathom spending that money on a night-out.

I’ve never been able to sympathise with a bottle of vodka so much before.

Upon visiting Sheffield, I thought ‘brilliant, this seems like a real ‘working class’ kind of city.’ I felt like everyone would be struggling together. I felt like we would be huddled together as we pray that some kind of edible angel from Heaven would be sent to feed us…you know #studentlife.

Everyone would be complaining about having empty cupboards and weighing up which is more important; food or nights out.  However when September soon arrived and moving-in day was upon us, it was not what I expected; well I just couldn’t believe the amount of Jack Wills bags. Whilst I carried clothes up to my room in broken suitcases and black bin liners, I was green with envy as I walked in to the hallway and noticed all the Cath Kidston luggage cases.

We unpacked all our food in to the fridge and whilst my Morrison’s shop was sufficient, it seemed that even my milk bottle looked out of place as it squished between Waitrose meat selection packets and Sainsbury’s finest juice.

The fundamentals

Fresher’s week activities were soon in full-swing and everyone was getting ready to prepare for 7 nights of excessive drinking and 3-am kitchen-talks with their new best buds. As a flat, we decided to knock on the surrounding flats in the block that we live in to introduce ourselves and make some friends.  ‘Hi! I’m Sophia, a fellow southerner! Hi!’ I beamed nervously at one of the girls. ‘Where abouts down South?’ ‘Hertfordshire, it’s just outside North London.’ I replied trying to gather my bearings. ‘Yeah you can tell you’re from a poor area.’ I was horrified, and so offended.

Sorry but my flat-bonding-budget just will not stretch. I’ll take the…uhm…water.

As I cried myself to sleep, wiping my tears away with my B&M bought toilet/sandpaper, I wondered ‘Is this what it’s going to be like for the next three years?’ and to be honest, my first few months at University were exactly like that. I wasn’t sure if it was the initial ‘trying to impress everyone with how much money I have’ jargon or if people actually just thought that bragging about how expensive their houses are or how much land they own was going to win you more friends but it seemed that if you had money, it was a law that you absolutely had to tell your new buddies about it.

Cheeky weekend with the boys shooting #lads #banter #noticethedickonmyhead

I am aware that like me, a lot of students can’t rely on their parents for money because they simply don’t have it, but I am also aware that a lot of students are in that ‘middle gap’, those students whose parents earn too much money for them to get a decent student loan but they aren’t really in a position to be handing their kids money all the time. I sympathise with both of those people, it is hard to move away from home to study and whilst you want to try and do all the fun stuff that everyone is doing, sometimes your bank balance can’t fund you, and that’s just really shitty. I can’t be the only person at university who has had one of their rich friends ‘offering’ to pay for you to come out? Humiliating.

Whilst people were moaning about their student loans and making inappropriate comments such as ‘you’re so lucky!’ I think they completely missed the point that 1) well yes, I do get a student loan which is brilliant, but I do have to pay it back, just like they do! 2) Lucky? I probably have more money in my account on pay-day than my Dad does!

Heating? What’s that? I’ve never heard of ‘heating’ before.

Whilst I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that university isn’t exactly like that, I am still struggling with the occasional backhanded compliment. “Aw, you’re so working class, it’s so cute.”  Nothing says cute quite like ‘I can’t come out, I’m trying to save my money’ can.