Student Life pt.1 - A New Age

Honestly, even though it had been drilled into my head for the past few years that this day would soon come, it still seemed strange to actually set off on that fairly generic Tuesday morning with the sat-nav set to Salford university, the promised land, the beginning of what so many people had assured me would be singularly the most intense, terrifying, and greatest years of my life. And as we neared the uni and headed down a road which incorporated a Greggs, a McDonald's and a Pound Bakery all within sight of each other, I did have to admit that these people had a point - I could definitely see myself living here. After the usual rigmarole of arrival, introductions, and unpacking one’s life onto a set of veneered wood shelves, it seemed that university life was much as I expected. The place was busy, the walls thin, and my bathroom seemed to emanate a constant smell of marijuana, no matter how much Aldi clean-ology lemon and ginger bathroom cleaner I sprayed about the place. 

The first week consisted mainly of moving in, and due to the fact that I chose the beginning of the week to do so, that translated to me sitting and staring at my lovely lime-green plasterboard feature wall for all of five days while doing nothing to try and add character to my living space, which gave the whole experience a very similar vibe to that of a Guatemalan prison holding cell. Other than that though, I had a comparatively good view from my window, my flatmates seemed to be sane in the majority, and on my first shopping venture I found a bag of seventy chicken nuggets in Tesco for about £3. Mm mm mm. Nothing like some quality food. And some good quality kitchen utensils, too - one week in and one pan down, lost to a tragic chicken-searing incident. As I write this now, I’ve been here just over a month, and recently said goodbye to my second pan, courtesy of a white sauce disaster. So overall my average pan lifespan has gone up, and an important lesson has been learned - never trust a simmering roux. 

Overall, life is still panning out as expected. The course is going well, despite a fiasco of a first acting class. Apparently, an angry Scotsman with a sore posterior in a doctor’s waiting room isn’t enough of a ‘naturalistic character.’ This month has also already incorporated a couple of trips back home, and multiple visits from people who all seemed, like I was, fascinated by the bright lights and bubbling atmosphere of downtown Salford. Saying that, they did all leave after about a day. In fact, while at the student bar during a visit from ‘the boys,’ one of them managed to, in one short sentence, both provide a nice ending to this particular month of recollections, and sum up pretty much how the whole experience of moving has felt so far: 

‘It’s nothing like The Eagle, is it?’