From the moment I said I was going to Uni people have been coming up to me asking ‘How are you going to manage?’ Some People asked from a financial or intellectual point of view, others like my mother and my best friend asked knowing that my ability to feed myself and keep out of trouble is almost non existent.
But mostly people asked knowing that me and Alex my boyfriend of now 17 months would be going to separate Uni’s separated by a grand total of 186.2 miles of motorway.
I have to say I’ve been dreading it. Though Al and I have never seen each other every day, the public transport of Somerset and Devon being what it is. I had grown used to him fumbling up the science block stairs every morning Monday to Friday before college, bleary eyed and bushy haired, barely even conscious, but he was there at least.
I would like to think our relationship is strong and can withstand whatever Uni life will throw at us. But doubt is one thing that does not like to be quieted. Even my closest friends have doubted how we will fare. There’s always one thought going through peoples heads. ‘You’re not even sleeping with him’.
Why is it in this generation that the strength of your relationship is measured by how far you will go in bed? I am not saying I have never been tempted or that I have never made mistakes (I can’t even count them I tell you) but I live in the hope that it won’t matter yet I can’t count the nights staring up at my bedroom ceiling wondering when Alex is going to get bored and frustrated with my ‘religious ways’ and leave. Even though I know he cares for me in more ways than just physically.
The paranoia is chronic and condescending. I hate the way these feelings grate through me. Sex can ruin relationships even when it is not being had.
I know that sometimes Alex feels rejected by me. As he is not a religious man he does not always understand my reasons for not wishing to have sex until I am married but I live in hope that he can see past that and know that I do truly care about him.
I refuse to become the stereotypical bed hoping teenager. Sex is supposed to be a celebration of love between two people and not just some milestone to prove just how ‘in love’ you are to the rest of the world.
Though I am far from perfect I live in the hope that when I first ‘bed’ a man, it will be the man I love, my husband.
But I guess for now I will just have to grin and bear it through raging hormones and peer pressure and hope that Alex will come to understand that it is not because I don’t care or trust him that I won’t sleep with him, but that I care too much and don’t want to hurt him.
As for the distance, yes it is hard, but then it is hard even on friendships. (I personally cannot wait to see my best friend Kat again on the 18th of December). Thankfully Facebook, Msn and mobile phones make the distance a whole lot easier to deal with. But I look forward to seeing Al and all my friends very soon.
Roll on the holidays!!!!
Monday, 29 November 2010
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
ZZZZZzzzzz Sleep!
Going from the fairly quiet country side (the odd mooing cow aside) to the bustling streets of east London i soon learnt that nighttime here is anything but restful.
Om my first night in student halls I was jolted awake by the fire alarm and many nights since. The sirens are none stop and it seems most nights just as I am drifting off into peaceful oblivion I get dragged back to earth kicking and screaming by the 'WAAA WAAA WEEEEEE' of the local police sirens.
Add to this late night parties, essay deadlines, afternoon lectures and Alchohol and soon you have a very screwed up body clock. Midnight munchies are my constant companion and attack as early as 11pm to as late as 3!
What I do find amusing is more often than not i wander into the kitchen at some god awful hour of the night to find one of my flat mates sat around the kitchen table, having a fag or a cup of tea.
Last night me and Sam ended up eating crumpets at 4 in the morning, which was definately more hassle than it was worth considering we found out that both the toaster and half our cooker grill is broken so had to resort to microwaving them >< (mmm rubbery)
I think the longer I stay here the more of my friends are becoming nocturnal (and that includes myself) bumping into my flatmates still in their dressing downs at 6 in the evening is becoming an all to common occurence.
The only conclusion I can come to is this:
UNIVERSITY HAS STOLEN MY SLEEPING PATzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Om my first night in student halls I was jolted awake by the fire alarm and many nights since. The sirens are none stop and it seems most nights just as I am drifting off into peaceful oblivion I get dragged back to earth kicking and screaming by the 'WAAA WAAA WEEEEEE' of the local police sirens.
Add to this late night parties, essay deadlines, afternoon lectures and Alchohol and soon you have a very screwed up body clock. Midnight munchies are my constant companion and attack as early as 11pm to as late as 3!
What I do find amusing is more often than not i wander into the kitchen at some god awful hour of the night to find one of my flat mates sat around the kitchen table, having a fag or a cup of tea.
Last night me and Sam ended up eating crumpets at 4 in the morning, which was definately more hassle than it was worth considering we found out that both the toaster and half our cooker grill is broken so had to resort to microwaving them >< (mmm rubbery)
I think the longer I stay here the more of my friends are becoming nocturnal (and that includes myself) bumping into my flatmates still in their dressing downs at 6 in the evening is becoming an all to common occurence.
The only conclusion I can come to is this:
UNIVERSITY HAS STOLEN MY SLEEPING PATzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
Saturday, 20 November 2010
Disco Pogo Ding a ling a ling!
Noise is an inevitable part of student life. But in London it is at a fever pitch.
The constant thrum of traffic and the scream of sirens. The lifts creaking every time I change floors and the bang of my front door when my flatmates return home in the wee hours of the morning.
Even me swearing at the tumble dryer for swallowing my money and not drying my clothes is incredibly loud, much to my embarrassment when a shell shocked nurse scuttled off back through the door of the laundry room.
But I think it is music that is the true driving force of student life. Listening to the Germans in the internationals block sing Bon Jovi reaaaaaaaaaaaally loud and accented is both brilliant and hilarious, they loved it.
We gave the Germans Bon Jovi and they gave us 'Disco Pogo!' a rather bizarre dance track from Germany that Stu has totally fallen in love with and plays at such volume security come running.
Student life may have my grabbing for my ear plugs at times (Fire alarms especially!!!) but there is nothing more funny than watching all the guys Disco pogo at 3am bouncing so hard dancing that their trousers are about to fall off.
1 dodgy German mp3 50p, 1 lose of hearing due to wooping and bad music, priceless :)
The constant thrum of traffic and the scream of sirens. The lifts creaking every time I change floors and the bang of my front door when my flatmates return home in the wee hours of the morning.
Even me swearing at the tumble dryer for swallowing my money and not drying my clothes is incredibly loud, much to my embarrassment when a shell shocked nurse scuttled off back through the door of the laundry room.
But I think it is music that is the true driving force of student life. Listening to the Germans in the internationals block sing Bon Jovi reaaaaaaaaaaaally loud and accented is both brilliant and hilarious, they loved it.
We gave the Germans Bon Jovi and they gave us 'Disco Pogo!' a rather bizarre dance track from Germany that Stu has totally fallen in love with and plays at such volume security come running.
Student life may have my grabbing for my ear plugs at times (Fire alarms especially!!!) but there is nothing more funny than watching all the guys Disco pogo at 3am bouncing so hard dancing that their trousers are about to fall off.
1 dodgy German mp3 50p, 1 lose of hearing due to wooping and bad music, priceless :)
Friday, 5 November 2010
Remember remember the 5th of November...gun powder, treason and Snot
It's the 5th of November fireworks will be fired all over the country tonight despite the dismal weather, and will I be out in it? Nope once again I find myself ill and out of action Frrr grumble grumble.
No one likes being ill, the other day I got a text from best mate Kat stating 'I feel like crap' she was not amused by my swift reply of 'Duh your ill!', I think though that being Ill at uni takes the biscuit (and all the paracetamol)
Kishan was the first in my flat to catch the O so dreaded 'Freshers flu' the fact he is still coughing nearly two months later is testament to how horrid this phenomenon is. I for one was not amused when he then decided to share his lovely lurgi.
I didn't just gain the cough, I landed in bed for two days and spent a further week on antibiotics for a ear AND throat infection, cheers Kish, thanks a lot.
I'm highly surprised that they never quarantined our flat, and even more surprised that Sam has somehow completely withstood it all together! He must have the immune system equivalent to a brick wall.
With me and Kishan being the walking death it was left to Sam to run the flat, and he actually did very well, but he's just not my mum.
The sad fact is at Uni, Mum isn't there to give you a hug and a glass of water when your keeling over the toilet bowl due to food poisoning or too much booze. She's not around to force feed you chicken soup and remind you to take my tablets and wrap up warm.
I always used to grumble about having a nurse for a mother but now I really miss it, especially when the other half starts freaking out down the phone thinking you have meningitis when in fact you have a pitiful cold.
Mum I miss you! Come nurse me better!
No one likes being ill, the other day I got a text from best mate Kat stating 'I feel like crap' she was not amused by my swift reply of 'Duh your ill!', I think though that being Ill at uni takes the biscuit (and all the paracetamol)
Kishan was the first in my flat to catch the O so dreaded 'Freshers flu' the fact he is still coughing nearly two months later is testament to how horrid this phenomenon is. I for one was not amused when he then decided to share his lovely lurgi.
I didn't just gain the cough, I landed in bed for two days and spent a further week on antibiotics for a ear AND throat infection, cheers Kish, thanks a lot.
I'm highly surprised that they never quarantined our flat, and even more surprised that Sam has somehow completely withstood it all together! He must have the immune system equivalent to a brick wall.
With me and Kishan being the walking death it was left to Sam to run the flat, and he actually did very well, but he's just not my mum.
The sad fact is at Uni, Mum isn't there to give you a hug and a glass of water when your keeling over the toilet bowl due to food poisoning or too much booze. She's not around to force feed you chicken soup and remind you to take my tablets and wrap up warm.
I always used to grumble about having a nurse for a mother but now I really miss it, especially when the other half starts freaking out down the phone thinking you have meningitis when in fact you have a pitiful cold.
Mum I miss you! Come nurse me better!
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Plantine and custard...the joys of student cooking.
Having lived in student accommodation little over a week now I am starting to notice certain things about student diets
It's really not healthy...at all. If there wasn't a decent (cheap!) swimming pool down the road I would start to fear for what waistline I actually possess.
There seem to be maybe 4 attempts at gaining sustenance.
Sams version: anything in a can will do (it helps if the can opener works, which mine does not fail!)
Kishans version: Get Mum to cook it and freeze it thank god for microwaves! (which thankfully does work)
Drunken any of us: will often be found in the local takeaways ranging from Pizza hut to Sams chicken the local KFC knock off
My version appears to be: attempt to cook and and when all else fails there's always cereal.
My mini roast chicken (chicken breasts with stuffing wrapped in bacon) didn't cook properly then tasted weird. My 'Omelet' (a word i use in the loosest sense) looked more like lumpy scrambled eggs. Thank god for sugar puffs!
Living in east London means I have easy access to all sorts of ingredients but does mean I have to quickly learn to discern bananas from plantine, something that is definitely a talent of mine, after attempting to eat plantine with custard and wondering why it tasted funny.
Another tip would be do not leave plantine on top of the fridge out of eye line to ripen; when Sam found them a week and a half later...ew
Nom nom nom!
It's really not healthy...at all. If there wasn't a decent (cheap!) swimming pool down the road I would start to fear for what waistline I actually possess.
There seem to be maybe 4 attempts at gaining sustenance.
Sams version: anything in a can will do (it helps if the can opener works, which mine does not fail!)
Kishans version: Get Mum to cook it and freeze it thank god for microwaves! (which thankfully does work)
Drunken any of us: will often be found in the local takeaways ranging from Pizza hut to Sams chicken the local KFC knock off
My version appears to be: attempt to cook and and when all else fails there's always cereal.
My mini roast chicken (chicken breasts with stuffing wrapped in bacon) didn't cook properly then tasted weird. My 'Omelet' (a word i use in the loosest sense) looked more like lumpy scrambled eggs. Thank god for sugar puffs!
Living in east London means I have easy access to all sorts of ingredients but does mean I have to quickly learn to discern bananas from plantine, something that is definitely a talent of mine, after attempting to eat plantine with custard and wondering why it tasted funny.
Another tip would be do not leave plantine on top of the fridge out of eye line to ripen; when Sam found them a week and a half later...ew
Nom nom nom!
Saturday, 25 September 2010
Did you know pork scratchings are made out of fried pigs foreskins?
Did you know pork scratchings are made out of fried pigs foreskins?
This is what my flatmate Sam thought was appropriate breakfast talk sat around the kitchen table with his bowl of cinnamon grahams and my bacon sandwich.
Who says that living with guys isn't an education
It seems to me despite the fact my lectures don't start until Monday morning (SQUEE!) I'm already learning fast, and even scarier is the fact I'm turning into my mother.
After struggling to squish the contents of the kitchen bin into its bag to take down to the main bin, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying one of mums top ten nags 'The cartons will squash better if they have the lids off you know'
I know coming to Uni was going to be a time to grow up, but leaping 40 years in a week seems a little drastic to me. I live in hope that this is just an odd form of homesickness that will soon pass because if I find myself berating the guys for leaving puddles on the bathroom floor one more time I may have to do something drastic.
Other than that life seems to be progressing in a fairly normal manner, though next time i get visitors at 3am I will remember to put trousers on so comments such as 'nice pants Rach' will not become a frequent occurrence (please note I was asleep and not in the habit of roaming my flat in my pants)
This is what my flatmate Sam thought was appropriate breakfast talk sat around the kitchen table with his bowl of cinnamon grahams and my bacon sandwich.
Who says that living with guys isn't an education
It seems to me despite the fact my lectures don't start until Monday morning (SQUEE!) I'm already learning fast, and even scarier is the fact I'm turning into my mother.
After struggling to squish the contents of the kitchen bin into its bag to take down to the main bin, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying one of mums top ten nags 'The cartons will squash better if they have the lids off you know'
I know coming to Uni was going to be a time to grow up, but leaping 40 years in a week seems a little drastic to me. I live in hope that this is just an odd form of homesickness that will soon pass because if I find myself berating the guys for leaving puddles on the bathroom floor one more time I may have to do something drastic.
Other than that life seems to be progressing in a fairly normal manner, though next time i get visitors at 3am I will remember to put trousers on so comments such as 'nice pants Rach' will not become a frequent occurrence (please note I was asleep and not in the habit of roaming my flat in my pants)
So lectures tomorrow, spose I should actually get ready, pack bag etc, or I could go get tea mmm food
Now where are my shoes.....
Sunday, 19 September 2010
I've Arrived!!!!!!!
Well I'm finally here after several stressful days due to flat deposits and what not I have finally arrived!
My Dad's car is obviously a Ford Tardis, its the only conceivable way that all of my many, MANY boxes fitted in the back. But fit they did and off we zoomed to the place known as 'East London'
My room is not too bad really, typical unite student housing apparently according to my friend Amanda who mailed me to say that her room was almost identical. But here's a pic for all interested parties. I made it as homely as possibly as soon as possibly mostly to detract from the hideous curtains and dated furnishings, but it will do. Home after all comes in all shapes, sizes and decors.
Living in Uni halls are already turning into an experience I won't be forgetting any time soon, such as being woken at half one my very first night by the fire alarm. Courtesy of a polish student called Vicroft who decided it would be a clever idea to kill a rouge wasp that had landed on the smoke detector with lashings of....deodorant. Setting off the alarm and waking up the majority of residents in the process, I knew I didn't like wasps for a reason.
My flatmates appear to be sane so far, though many of my visitors sanity are still up for debate. After opening my door to two girls asking 'Does a bloke live here?'. I replied in the affirmative stating I in fact have two male flatmates, though as of then neither of them were home. 'Are they our bloke?' came back the reply. Turns out the were in fact looking for the now infamous Vicroft who resides on the 4th floor...not the 8th my current address lol
Anyway induction is tomorrow lovely early start of 9am! But off to hit the student union bar with new flat mate Sam, who despite having only lived here 3 hours I have already seen shirtless.
The joys of student life? Who knows....
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