Ahhh Freshers’ Week. Its easy to look back with rose-tinted, snakebite-fogged spectacles now, at the wise old age of twenty-one, and remember it as the crazy, exciting, hilarious time we’d all like it to have been.

In reality, I spent far more time choosing outfits, changing outfits, and straightening my hair, while working up the courage to go knock on my flatmates’ doors, than I’d like to admit. I got lost on my way home from nights out, hungover-cried in my weird plastic shower pod, and once climbed home through my kitchen window, for no apparent reason. Looking back, I wasn’t exactly giving off the glamorous, grown-up impression I was so desperate to.

What I’m trying to say is, its a bizarre, disorienting, and often overwhelming time. You’ve just moved halfway across the country to live in a flat with a bunch of strangers and everyone keeps telling you you’re supposed to be having the time of your life. Take some time to unpack, have the odd night in with Netflix, and ignore the FOMO for five minutes while you figure out that incomprehensible map of campus.

And aside from getting those all-important Freshers’ Guides off to the printers on time, I really hope you all enjoyed yourselves, in whatever way you chose to. Whether you were consistently drunk for the entirety of freshers’ fortnight (in which case, I take my hat off to you in utter admiration), get struck down by freshers’ flu two days in, or simply choose to spend it making mates and memories in an altogether more moderate way: it isn’t a competition, and it really doesn’t matter.

Now, where did I put my body glitter..?

JFK

Concrete