In Halls

Freshers Fair

The Union looked transformed in the light of day. Somebody, or more likely a small army of somebodies, had cleared up all vestiges of alcohol, and a large amount of bunting was flapping in the morning breeze. 

Unable to sleep for as long as I'd hoped, I'd just popped out with my phone in my jacket pocket to have a look around, but as soon as I approached the building I got swept into the crowd. On one side, someone pressed a canvas bag into my hand "just with some information on Union services." On the other, someone else passed me a slice of free pizza on a napkin.

I didn't say no, even though it was barely 10am, because a core element of my brother's Starting Uni Advice had been to always, always eat the free food "and if it's available, drink the free drink."

As though Jason knew he was in my thoughts, my phone pinged with a messaged from him just as I was wrapping the pizza in its napkin and tucking it in the free bag.

Hey El, so, how hungover are you? Were you sick, do you remember anything, did you get with anyone? LMK

Ha ha. No yes no. How did you cope with everyone drinking waaay too much at uni? I know they say student drink culture but seriously people don't know when to stop.

By drinking waaay too much myself.

He sent it with a laughing/crying emoji, but his message pulled on a chain of worries rooted in small of my back. I didn't like the thought of my brother drinking as much as I'd seen Josh or Tara or even Christopher put away last night.

JK El, people settle down after Freshers. Most people, most of the time.

I stuffed my phone away. Something to discuss with him another time. Right now, I was in the middle of the ebb and flow of several hundred Freshers working their way in and out of the Union building.

Last night it had seemed like every single student at the university must have been packed into the building dancing, and yet the majority of those would be in bed now not exactly feeling at their best. 

This morning's crowd was different, international students in small groups, young women in cute floral dresses or oversized cardigans, guys in thick-framed glasses carrying self-consciously battered leather satchels, people with hair dye and vintage-look jewellery sitting on the grass. I had the feeling that everyone was trying out their new student personas, thinking about how they were going to look, how they were going to be at university.

And here was me, my hair thrown into plaits, just wearing the first t-shirt and jeans that had come to hand this morning, topped with a jacket that I'd managed to break the zipper on. Somehow, it just hadn't occurred to me to go for any particular style as yet. I'd have to try harder. I contemplated going home, but now I was out, the thought of the flat filled with last night's debris was oppressive.

At least I wasn't about to meet anyone important.

I followed the crowd inside, where a mess of stalls ran through every available corner. I dodged left into a hall area advertised as The Plant Shop. The sight of the sign reminded me that my precious pot plants, gifts from Sophie over the past few years, were somewhere on the floor of my room still in a shoe box. My plan had been to get them out as soon as I arrived and make sure they hadn't been damaged on the drive. Well, that would have to be my plan for this afternoon now.

The plants weren't cheap, but I had a major weak spot for new greenery. Thinking of Ed's delicious moussaka the night before, I bought a set of potted herbs, tucking them into my canvas bag as best I could. The one that didn't fit, a very leafy coriander, I held in one hand.