I used to be a student…

I had dinner and drinks with a friend from uni this week. And by drinks.. I had a lime and soda. Gone are the days that we called in for a swift one, arrived back home at 3:00am and woke up the following morning next to a chicken burger (or worse). We lived next door to each other pretty much throughout uni (in the same building just a couple of flights of stairs between us as freshers) and he’s seen me in some right states. And that’s possibly one of the reasons that I’ve made him vow never to not be my buddy.

On parting, following our evening of reminiscing and analytics of many-a-night out, I was happy and sad. I felt strangely deflated that we’d never have those carefree uni years back. That we’ll never live a couple of doors away from a load of our mates.  
So I started thinking about why everyone was right when they told you to make the most of those days, because you didn’t realise just how fantastic they were at the time.
You make friends in your first week that you’ll know for the rest of your life. Maybe it’s because you bond over the terrible quality of your halls. Because you hear the hilarious shagging noises of the people that live on the same floor as you. Even if you pinch the odd yoghurt or put your crumby knife in their margarine, you drew the line at wine and when other people came to raid the fridges, you’d take their cans out and hang them out of your bedroom window in a carrier bag. You really can’t buy loyalty like that. The regular- scratch that- weekly fire ‘drills’ also push you together. When you’re standing outside in tiny pyjamas, hair like a matted dog and makeup-less and someone snaps a shot of you for Facebook, you know they’re the type of person you want as a mate when, on seeing your horror, they agree not only to de-tag it but also to remove it from the internet altogether.

Not washing your hair for as long as possible is something of an achievement. Let’s face it; It is a chore. It takes time and there is such a thing as your hair being too clean- when you need to tong it and for curls to stay in, to name but one example. 
You have time to do things, like volunteer. Without the need to work 9-5 Monday to Friday, you can give back to the community. Rewarding and allows you to grab a good bargain (I got a teapot for £1.50). Students should be encouraged to give it a go, I hope one day I get time to do it again.
Student loan day. Of course it’s for books and supplies and food. But you can get your books second hand and live off cheap food and yellow-sticker shopping. What I’m talking about is not giving a shit if you’re spending forty of you’re hard earned (well…) pounds on silver hareem pants that you’ll wear once before realising it’s a terrible, terrible error on your part. At least 4 years on you’ll be able to sell them for seven plus p&p on ebay and feel like you’ve somehow won.
Days off whenever you want. Because our uni didn’t take a register.
Two Jeremy Kyles a day, if ever you’re ever feeling a bit rubbish what better way to perk yourself up than watching someone who can’t even remember who of the three men on stage is her baby daddy (she’s usually 50/50 on them all.) While you’re parked on the couch you may as we’ll stay put for Desperate Housewives, The Real Housewives, Ellen and whatever games how channel 4 are currently favouring before The Simpsons. 
A night out on Twenty quid including a taxi home and a take away. Some of the places we went were, looking back, awful. Monday was Raz night- a place where a fat frog was the specialty and your shoes actually became ruined from an unknown liquid on the floor. But awful in the best way. The way that you didn’t care if you fell off of a curb on the way home and the next day you couldn’t get your Ugg boots on. 
I think that you could spend so little for a number of reasons. There was the Pre-drinks (you can tell how ancient I am, because I beleive they’re now referred to as “prinks” ). And tied in with this; Ring of Fire. A game that I blame for a lot of memory lapses I experienced between 08 and graduation. Also “I have never” a game that not only gets you insanely drunk, but also lets your friends know far too much about you (a perfect time to link to my first point.) there was also the bus journey to town; Tesco did a tasty carton of wine a big one for pre-drinks and a little one for the journey to avoid that awful “I’ve sobered up on the way here” feeling. As well as that, back in the day they did those pay £15 for entry and get as much house vodka or other house spirit and mixer as you can stomach nights. I think they’re illegal now, and it wouldn’t matter anyway because I slur after a single glass of wine so I wouldn’t really get my money’s worth, anyway.
It was kind of okay to be a state after a big night and your friends didn’t care if they’d had to position you so that you didn’t choke on your own sick or couldn’t go out to celebrate your nineteenth birthday because you’d passed out in the foyer of halls, even though they’d bought new shoes.
It’s a time to make the most of, indeed. But now we’re all in proper jobs, and I like hearing about my friends success stories. Some of us are engaged, soon to be married. There’s babies. It’s all exciting and wonderful, but just in a different way.

That was an enjoyable trip down memory lane for me, if no one else.

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