How moving from Somerset to Brighton has changed me as a person

The end of my degree is nigh, and I am poised to enter the real world at home in the West Country. It may be just 175 miles east of Sussex, but in terms of culture and lifestyle there is about 175 years difference.

Studying at Sussex has changed my outlook on living drastically and left me questioning the way of life at home on a daily basis. This is how living in Brighton has changed me.

Somerset is as alike to Sussex as Narnia

Expecting most people to be Londoners

In my first seminar I became confused when course mates became specific about which part of London they were from. I soon realised that because there are so many it was nothing more than a desperate claim of independence. If there is a Londoner in Somerset they’re probably famous and not wanting to be there, most likely an MP trying to be compassionate after a flood. But three years of living in Brighton – the top destination for any Londoner’s weekend escape – has left me wondering which side of the Thames anyone I meet lives.

Expecting a Protest in the Village Gazette

I’m not sure I’ve read an edition of The Badger which hasn’t covered a story about people getting angry. Whilst it’s true us Country folk did throw a Peasant’s Revolt in the past, coming to Sussex threw me into a crazy political institution of getting hyped and marching quite a lot. Megaphones would probably go out of business if it wasn’t for Sussex students. The Community Officer lifestyle of Somerset did not prepare me for the Brighton scenes. To return home and read front pages of lack of Wi-Fi and sat-navs getting their lorries stuck doesn’t quite live up to the radical headlines I’ve come to know.

Somerset People trying to get hyped

Growing closer to the Swans

Contrary to Hot Fuzz, whilst we do have Swans we don’t chase them because they are very violent and bite children. However, after three years of protecting my sandwich and dodging poo droppings, my hatred for Seagulls has grown so much that I welcome the sight of a Swan charging at me. It can hiss all it wants, and I may loose a finger, but it wont leave me out of pocket by spoiling my overpriced portion of sea front chips.

Asking for drinks offers at the pubs

It may surprise you that pub landlords in Somerset don’t pop up on your Facebook promising queue jump and a bottle of champagne. Usually because there’s no alternative and local competition for seven miles. But this hasn’t stopped me approaching the bar and trying to bargain five jaeger bombs for a fiver. This doesn’t work in Somerset because Cider is often the only option (and rightly so) whilst anything tropical like “Sex On The Beach” is more likely the alter ego of the farmer’s daughter.

Will Hammond Plus 3 not needed

Over-generalising the Smell of Weed

Set deep in the countryside, blessed with a huge variety of alive and kicking nature, Somerset can often exhale the most unique smells. Usually it stinks because manure is either being burnt or sticking to the bottom of your shoe. But studying at one of the drug-friendly universities in the UK and living in Moulsecoomb has made taking in the smell of weed something of the norm for me. Henceforth, smells that have been picked up on countryside walks are usually passed off as weed by my brainwashed mind. Just not in front of the grandparents.

Sniffer Dogs At The Ready

Being branded as ‘dangerously liberal’

Somerset is a conservative haven full of dominant Tory MPs. When I came to Sussex a fresher’s post about housing (which lightly suggested my need to be living with guys) revealed to me the liberal and feminist backbone of Brighton which doesn’t exist in Somerset. When I left for Brighton the only rules my parents gave me was no tattoos and no drugs. Any ideas or cults of liberalism I return with are slapped down with the paddle.

We’re not living in the past, there’s just no budging from tradition. It just gives going home the feeling of time travel.