Everything you weren’t told before you started Liverpool

Red salt and library rivalry


You wanted to go to a reputable uni and make your parents proud. You also wanted a taste of authentic northern city life. Enter: The University of Liverpool.

Claiming to be the original redbrick institution, the iconic Victoria Gallery building was plastered all over your prospectus. Two years in and you’ve still never been in it. False advertising some may say; but that doesn’t even scratch the surface, why didn’t somebody tell you these things?

The UoL vs. JMU rivalry

Football isn’t the only divider in this city. Like a bittersweet sibling rivalry, UoL students think JMU students are thick and JMU students think UoL students are snobby. One thing they unite in though? Making fun of Hope Uni.

U-O-L U-O-L

You can get the nation’s best breakfast right on your doorstep

When your hangover descends and you just want all of the carbs, the Tavern Co on Smithdown is heaven on earth. If it’s the hair of the dog approach you want to take, the cosy bar you’re seated at whilst you wait for your table is the perfect place. If you can’t hack that though, there’s unlimited free tea and coffee with your award winning fry-up. Greasy dreams are made here.

Takeaway red salt will change your life                                   

No one knows what’s in it, no one cares. Put it on chips, put it on your Tesco meal deal, put it on cake, it takes any mediocre meal up to a 10.

red salt, krunchy fried chicken,

Red salt is very, very important

The Sydney Jones and the Harold Cohen are basically alternate universes

Despite only being situated at opposite ends of campus, the SJ and HC are worlds apart. Humanities students stick to the SJ and sciences students stick to the HC as a general rule. Venturing into each other’s territory is unnecessary, and quite frankly daunting. One thing they do have in common though, they’re never quite the right temperature.

Finding a seat in the SJ after 11am is like trying to find your soulmate in Popworld

If you’re one of the lucky ones that manage to grab one, guard it with your life.

“Why can we never find a seat?”

The bombed out church is the official meeting/taxi point

“Where shall I meet you?” Need you even ask? The bombed out church is the official meeting spot. A night in town isn’t complete until you’re slumped on the steps of St Lukes sobbing into your cheesy chips as you wait for your taxi.

Concert Square is a bit shit

You turn up to the freshers paint party at Modo with glow in the dark war paint smeared across your face and ‘I love cock’ stickers adorning your outfit. You then spend the night screaming renditions of Hey Ya! and Gold Digger. As you get older and wiser, you discover the wonders of Seel Street and the Baltic Triangle. But there’ll always be a special place in your heart for Concert Square.

Don’t wear nice shoes to the Raz

Or nice clothes. Or white.

Exams are often held in the cathedral crypt

How fitting. But the crypt looks a lot like it belongs in Hogwarts, so pretending to be Hermione during exams does soften the blow somewhat.

 

The cathedral in all its glory.

You’ve not known frustration until you’ve locked yourself out of your Vine Court room for the 26th time in the same week

On your return from the kitchen, a tub of Pringles under one arm, a family bar of Galaxy under the other, the horrifying realization that you’ve left your key card inside your room once again dawns on you. It’s pouring with rain outside, and you’re in your Spongebob pajamas, no bra and no shoes. As if it could get any worse, on your way down to reception to pay the fine and get a key, you see the fit guy you fancy. Moral of the story: wear your key card on a lanyard at all times. You might look like a dick, but at least you’ll have dry feet.

Eduroam will make you question if you really need this degree at some point

The uni’s wifi seems to wait until you’re about to submit an essay and then says a big fuck you.

EUDORAM????

Scousers basically have their own language

It’s arlas when you come here and can’t understand the boss language, and you start fuuuumin’ about it and think about jibbing it completely. But then you finally start to pick it up and go for some tidy scran to celebrate. You get the picture.

You’ll come to think of it as home

You’ll go back to your parents’ house and accidentally refer to your digs in Liverpool as home. Your mum will tear up, as she looks at you like you’ve just announced you’re emigrating to New Zealand.