I’m officially no longer a fresher.
You might have noticed I’ve itched for this moment since I got to university, but I reluctantly reset the keycard to my room at Royal Holloway. If anyone’s living in Tuke F-3A-05 in future, and you happen to stumble across this post, look underneath the desk next to the bed, and you should see a small sticker. Nick Stylianou 2008-2009. I like leaving my mark. I’ll miss that room!
But before I crammed everything into my car and drove home far too hungover and with far little petrol to justifiably make it home, I can’t believe how much I’d achieved in the short months I’d been at university, but still, there were a a few little things to finish off my final term of being a first year.
First of all: the Summer Ball! I made it right through to 6am, with the help of far too many shots right up until breakfast. I’m a survivor, me.
Then came my final bit of publicity for The Orbital before the term was out – covering our first ever Shakespeare Festival! Both InsanityRadio and The Orbital put on a ‘media hub’, culminating in a slideshow of our photos and live reviews, collated and displayed throughout the day, to a soundtrack of interviews from local students who attended the day’s workshops. (Perks included the generous ‘Media Budget’, which helped subsidise some much needed equipment and I got free tickets to the rather chilly annual Quad Production…)
The Students’ Union Annual General Meeting ticked off another evening, and I found out I got onto the Intensive Shakespeare course and passed the year! Full breakdown to follow in July, but that’s all the information I needed.
Somehow, while preparing for End Of Term Blowout, I managed to lose my CollegeCard. I’d already managed to snap it earlier in the week, but it was replaced easily enough. No big deal, or so I thought. As it turned out, this was my third lock-out, which meant I had to pay the princely sum of £10 for a temporary card to last 24 hours! It didn’t stop there, because I also managed to pack the temporary card and couldn’t find that, either.
Off I trotted to celebrate the end of term, with absolutely no way of getting home. I managed to find someone at The Hub reception, at about twenty to six in the morning, without finishing packing, without sobering up, and without a sweater from sitting in the post-SU after-party in Founder’s Quad. Whatever would my mother say?
Six hours later and I was back home, and if I’d learned anything it would have to be this: don’t fall asleep on the sofa with Saturday afternoon TV on. I ended up having a wierdly erotic BBC renovation-themed dream involving RHUL.
Waking up in what I hope was a cold sweat, I found reruns of Dog The Bounty Hunter and all was well again.