On the first day in halls, I found out that I would be living in an all-boy flat. Cue an intense panic about mess and an awkward “I love you and I’m sure they’re all gay anyway” call to my boyfriend. In my opinion, I was right to worry.
Housemate A followed an intense exercise routine which included doing handstands to passers-by in our glass hallway, all to keep him in the best nick for getting “the third year puss”. He also gave us enough hilariously inappropriate anecdotes to fill a large wall chart, until the cleaner decided she had read enough.
Housemate B was one part of the most beautiful bromance Nelson Court had ever seen, and could often be found playing ball in the hallway, mercilessly bantering with Housemate A and playing computer games until the early hours. Oh, and he had a top secret love of The Only Way Is Essex.
Housemate C has the best salsa dancing hips I have ever seen on a man. He survived first year on a nutritious diet of scotch eggs, hula hoops, bacon and beer. He managed not to hoover even once in the whole year, and his room also boasted the world’s largest diet coke can sculpture.
Housemate D planned to write his masterpiece and die young so he could be appreciated like the literary greats. He often had to be calmed down during times of late night hysterical poetry writing, and have his books confiscated and put in the fridge when he read too much. He was easily convinced that women’s skinny jeans were the way to go and hasn’t turned back since.
Thank god for our female honorary housemate, who brought with her clothes to share, extra oestrogen and the belief that stars really do have points.
On paper, I don’t think you could ever say we were all destined to get on. But once you have lived through listening outside as a group to each other’s conversations, sex lives, break-ups, vomiting and drunken ranting; a Movember of dodgy moustaches; DIY haircuts; and partial nudity, you all become very close.
By the end of first year, you’ve all seen each other at your very worst, and I’m sure you will, as we did, become a highly dysfunctional but very happy family.
Photo Ga Chun Yau.