Why nights out when you lived in University Halls were the best
Uber surge prices can fuck right off
The days where you could hack drinking three nights in a row, when your pathetic excuse for "work" didn't contribute to your future, and when you didn't have to pay a penny to get back after a night out. Here's why you miss the nights out from when you lived in halls (unless you were an unlucky, forgotten soul that got shoved into Carnatic. In that case, we're sure you're enjoying the new-found freedom now you've been released from prison).
When pres were a few corridors and a lift away, not four streets down in Smithdown
Forever missing the days when you could simply message your group chat of the few flats/houses you enjoyed pre drinking with and they would show up at your flat on time. Now you catch hypothermia on your way to Borrowdale from Gainsborough as jackets ruin the look.
Knowing the cleaner's got your back
Ran out of toilet paper thanks to that girl who can't handle her drink throwing up everywhere? Left your glasses and empty bottles on the counter and didn't clean them up because you won't get into the Raz if you leave after 11:30? As long as you went out on a weekday, the miraculous cleaners sort that out. In your own house you wake up swaying and still drunk and the smell of spilt alcohol and sticky floors freaks you out and you wanna die from being sick too much.
Being able to just walk back to your place
You never truly understand why people who live in Carnatic are the Elon Musks of this university until you go on a night out with them- they go out without knowing exactly how they'll get back to their prison in the middle of nowhere yet somehow always make it back okay. Carnatic prisoners leave their halls with PTSD, wheras pampered on-campus residents leave with that constant losing your mum in Sainsburys feeling. Gone are the days you could look at your group and know its time to get a chicken box meal from Chicken Bazooka to scoff on your way up Brownlow Hill. Now, you spend your student loan on not only take-aways but also taxis. Nice.
This point is just out of sympathy for the Carnatic residents
Getting the 86 bus into town just isn't the 699. Nothing fills the air with team spirit quite like shoving drunk prisoners on a bus where they chant about how much they hate Greenbank, when really they don't know the difference between the words "hate" and "am jealous of".
Losing your key wasn't a problem
Everyone 10/10 took the ability to just call an RA at 4am to let you into your room if you lost your key card for granted. Losing your key to your house now is an absolute shitstorm and best avoided. Even talking about such a nightmare raises the heartbeat a bit.
Laundry or rave room?
When you're trapped in Carnatic, it's important to look on the brighter side of this living situation and work with what you've got. Who would've thought the laundry room would make an excellent place to pre? If you miss drinking in a laundry room as your house now doesn't suffice, move house.
"Yeah, I do know how use an ironing board actually!"
Apparently in Greenbank you surfed down the stairs with ironing boards- nice move, especially if you hate your deposit. Never seeing that bitch again.
Post-it-notes have more uses than just for education
If you were a mental, outgoing individual that uses the phrase "Vine/Crown was soOOoo dead" we're pretty sure you're hiding from the sadness of missing your flat's antics. Unfortunately in your house it's now socially unacceptable to align post-it-notes on your window to resemble a dick, and to leave all your empty alcohol glasses on the windowsill so every passer-byer knows you're the craziest flat of them all. There's got to be another way to show the Scousers who you really are though, surely?
But, at least now you're sharing with people you can have a nice offensive conversation. Do you miss the days where you'd starve in your dark room because you couldn't be arsed to create small-talk with the people you were forced to live with? Thought so.