What have we really learnt from first year?

First year is coming to an end in one week and it’s been one hell of a journey.  Albeit most of the time a journey from our bedrooms to Broad Street, but a journey nonetheless. As we dig into breakfast in the late afternoon, my flatmate says to me, “I’m so proud of us.”  I nodded and said “same” as I listen out for the snap, crackle and pop.  “For finishing first year, we made it!” I consider this statement and ask myself, what have we actually finished?

Other than all our food.  And our money.  And Game of Thrones.  Twice.  We had been sitting on our bum on our shitty ‘sofas’, or as we like to call them on the Vale, rocks, for what seems like an eternity, talking utter crap, when the feeling of pride overwhelmed us and we reflected on our first year achievements.

We learnt how to cook for ourselves

and broke our teeth.

We learnt how to utilise Wednesday ‘sports afternoons’ efficiently

I think my heart is beating, is yours? Probably.

We reached 1/3 of the way to obtaining a degree in highly useful matters

We learnt how to make everything that’s not even remotely about sex, be about sex.

We experienced different forms of insanity

We became more domesticated

I’m ready for whatever life throws at me

We worked on our time keeping

But didn’t quite make it to the 9am

We considered going to lectures

But decided on something more productive

Most importantly, we had a laugh

So, we continue to reflect on the year as we wave to the future students walking down the Vale open day with their parents full of their innocence and impressionability of youth, and they wonder why they hell we’re in telly tubby costumes at 12:30pm on a Saturday. But hey, that’s first year for you.