The best places for a break down on campus at Sheffield Uni

Nobody can hear your screams from floor three of Western Bank

Coursework break downs are like a pair of shit flared jeans- we’ve all had them and hope to God nobody but our parents remember them. However, it’s where you have your breakdown that really makes all the difference, and at Sheffield you are seriously spoiled for choice. Without further adieu we present to you the definitive list of break down hotpots.

Weston Park: Prime arts student breakdown territory

Weston park has some great bridges and ponds for when your feeling pensive af. The park also has a nice soft lawn for you to lie face down on.  It really is perfect for a spot of self-loathing when you’ve lost your job, boyfriend or sanity. You can also become a real life hermit as you feed the pigeons- the only creatures who approve of your bag lady aesthetic. Expect to see a lot of Hemingway types looking poetically at the shit water feature during exam week.

Floor 4 of the Diamond: home of stressed out engineers and the all-nighter breakdown

Something about the Diamond makes it a catalyst for breakdowns. Maybe its the ultra bright strip lighting, the fact the lift never works or maybe its just the fact the café closes early. Whatever it is if your going in for the real pit of despair all-nighter breakdown here is the place to do it. With a Coffee machine adjacent, endless empty spaces to pace up and down anxiously and only one exit open after midnight get ready for the worst breakdown you’ll ever experience. Also there’s plenty of engineers screaming things like “well change the parameters then” to make you feel better about your own degree prospects.


IC silent study – for the ‘fuck-the-fuck-off ‘ it’s due in an hour breakdown

Anger issues? just want the world to fuck the fuck off whilst you get that lab report in? Well, Google sleep pods eat your heart out because the IC silent study is ‘prime fuck off I’m working’ territory. Also it’s a great spot for a break down given that there’s a disabled toilet in which you can let your caffeine raged body release in privacy. Good luck trying to wrestle your way to a free desk though.

Your flatmate’s bed: for the “I can’t believe he/she dumped me in exam week” breakdown

Personal space matters not when you feel a break down coming on. Clamber into the loving embrace of your platonic house wife/husband’s bed and cry out the feels. Make it a group activity and invite other members of the house to bask in your deep unhappiness. Bring a blanket, chocolate and the man size Kleenex because this breakdown is a long slog.

Bar One: for the “what do you mean there was a question on the back?” breakdown

Its 2-for-1 burgers all exam season, so you can eat your feelings whilst crying deeply into a pint of dark fruit. Yes, adjacent to your exam hall so you can go from working hard to calling your mum crying in 30 seconds. If its a rough exam you might want to up your pintage whilst dissecting every facet of an exam you certainly failed with friends. Stare longingly into your yellow exam paper and look hopelessly at flashcards of what could have been. Still there is always rum.

Floor 3 of Western Bank: for the “sorry I’m away on holiday- regards, your dissertation tutor” breakdown 

Arguably the worst breakdown you’ll ever have, deadline approaching and your intro is barely spell checked. Your tutor’s inbox reply is set to holiday mode and you can’t breathe.  You need sensory deprivation, limited social contact with the outside world, and the worst phone signal you’ll ever live to see. You need the third floor of Wezzy B. Its the Davy Jones’ locker of revision spots but by God its productive. Hours can feel like seconds, the official library head counter will be the only foot steps you’ll here for miles and there’s only a toilet on the ground floor that smells like a barn.

No way out

Poptarts: For the ‘I’m fine really’ break down

Nothing says I’m fine like weeping into a cheeky vimto in the exit tunnel of Poptarts. Your fine, honest. I mean, the three exes you’ve texted and seven flatmates you’ve cried on would suggest otherwise. What’s that you’ve been sick in your shoes? Oh dear. Still the 90’s bangers are nothing if not ironic in this situation. As Bewitched would say C’est La Vie.