I think it’s safe to say that there is often a common perception of what university is like for many students across the country. It’s regarded as one of the last times that young people can truly go wild, living life to the max and relishing in the zesty exuberance of the vitality of youth. The stereotypical idea of university is perhaps best encapsulated in ‘a night out on the town’.
Allow me to paint a picture of how this might play out…
Whilst sitting in the overcrowded, claustrophobic library, sat next to someone noisily munching on the remnants of leftover pizza, your phone buzzes angrily. It’s a message from your friends asking if you want to go to the local club (probably named something ludicrously onomatopoeic such as Fizz, Smash or Wangbazzle) for a night of non-stop partying. Excitedly agreeing, the decision is made to meet at eleven for pres (why we refer to pre-drinks as ‘pres’ I have no idea. Why can’t we just call them pre-drinks, or drinks?). Quickly pushing the threat of looming deadlines aside you make your way back home to pick out an outfit, run a hot shower, shave every surface and douse yourself in multiple fragrances intended to simultaneously evoke the smells of sandalwood, linen and freshly baked maple pecans. Four hours later, you grab a light jacket, check you have your ID and head out to meet your friends at the pub, consuming just enough alcohol so that your head is in a sane state of delirium, making you feel as though anything in the world is possible. After arriving at the club, queuing until your hands and toes are frostbitten, and getting checked by a gruff looking security guard, you finally enter the club. The rest of the night is a dizzyingly beautiful blur, full of dancing, selfies and shots that culminates in a trip to McDonalds where you order a twenty-piece Chicken McNugget Sharebox that you ravenously consume before stumbling into bed.
The next morning, after realising you have slept through your alarm, you jolt out of bed, hastily put on a slapdash outfit and sprint from your halls to your lecture whilst guzzling a Berroca and wolfing down some Belvita to try and nurse your throbbing headache. Making it in the nick of time, you sit in the lecture, trying to figure out what it is exactly that you are studying. As you try to partake in a debate about the existential threat of capitalist society, you receive a text from your friends saying that they can’t wait to do it all over again.
The non-stop life of university is seemingly filled with partying, late nights spent in the library whilst harbouring a caffeine addiction, eating batches of spag bol, stir fry dishes and pesto pasta out of your stained IKEA Tupperware and trying to meet an endless array of deadlines. It’s the place to create memories with your friends and develop a relationship with the person who may be the love of your life.
It sounds fun right?
Well…I couldn’t imagine anything worse.
As I approach the end of my three years at university, I have no shame in saying that I have experienced the antithesis of the student lifestyle. Whilst others may love the wild experience of clubbing, I consider it to be a manifestation of the deepest pits of hell. In reality a ‘night out on the town’ results in you being up until the early hours of the morning and queuing in the freezing cold as a gruff bouncer aggressively pats you down. The supposedly ‘amazing’ club has a mind-numbingly sticky floor, pulsating lighting and a selection of music played so ear-splittingly loud that it feels as though your internal organs have been sucked out of your body. Throughout the night you have to listen to ‘Disco Dave’ attempting to hype up the crowd, feel gyrating bodies grind up against you, pay an extortionate amount of money for a lethal cocktail served in an oblong shaped glass, navigate your way around piles of sick only to undoubtedly end the night looking after your friend who never knows their limits and ends up crying over their ex. Quite frankly, I find the whole experience exhausting; I just don’t see the fun in all of it.
Granted, I have only had about two experiences of clubbing.
But trust me…it was two times too many.
As a result, at university I have adopted my what I call ‘granny persona’. When I adopt my ‘granny persona’, the idea of eating a microwave meal for one whilst watching re-runs on UK Gold or a YouTube deep dive about the Disney channel pop star pipeline is a great night that gets me titillated with excitement. Quite simply, the thought of a steaming cup of coffee and a huge slab of chocolate cake is a day well spent.
I know this may seem sad, but it’s managed to get me through the chaotically brilliant yet simultaneous nightmare that is university. Sometimes I think that we are all under the pressure to try and have perfect experiences in life, to follow the same paths that so many expect us to have. Yet I found that trying to go out clubbing and drinking filled me with a sheer sense of panic. Embracing my ‘granny persona’, has allowed me to look after myself more and do what’s right for me rather than forcing myself to knock back a mountain of Jägerbombs. Equally, I’m not implying that all students should suddenly reject the typical university lifestyle; its an important part of the student experience, a right of passage. In fact, sometimes my attitude has shut me out from meeting new people and experiencing new things, making me feel lonely and isolated. In hindsight I should have had a balance, switching between my granny persona and student lifestyle to reap the benefits of both.
So, why am I telling you all of this? Well, I think we should all embrace our ‘granny persona’ once in a while, recognising the simple pleasures of afternoon tea, being in bed by ten with a hot water bottle, a good cozy murder mystery and maybe even a nightcap to help us doze off. It’s certainly allowed me to find the beauty within the simplest moments of everyday life. I know I’m crazy, but give it a go…you never know what you might find.
