We went to Brackenhurst for the day and it was dead

“Are we allowed on the grass?”

It was a day intended for revision, so what better way to procrastinate than to take a 40-minute road trip to the deadest campus at Trent?

We were the only ones around.

We thought we’d put ourselves in the wellies of our fellow Brack students however it started off by being a pretty pricey excursion. The bus driver actually laughed at our shock after he asked us to pay £6 each for a return. That’s £6 that could’ve bought us each a burger at Spanky’s on a Tuesday and I know what I would’ve preferred.

After spending a good 10 minutes sitting in an angry silence at being another £6 into our overdrafts, we decided to get over it. The bus man was taking us through ‘posh’ Nottingham and it did not feel right at all. Where were the chavs? Where were the empty chicken takeaway boxes? We were definitely not in Shottingham anymore.

We got off the bus in the middle of no where and headed straight to the Brack Bar. We were given dirties by the Brack locals as it was pretty obvious from our lack of farm garms that we were not a native.

That’s it.

Their SU, quite frankly, was not brill. The bar was about the size of my kitchen and to think that that’s all they’ve got as their night out pon da lash saddens me on their behalf. We couldn’t help thinking that Brack must be pretty incestuous.

Next on the agenda was to find the animals and they were not in short supply. Stepping out of The Orangery we spotted three humans and about 40 cows.

There were fucking loads.

Heading to the Equine Centre just a short walk from the countryside campus, our rolled up skinny jeans left us prey to the stinging nettles of the public footpath. Don’t say we didn’t suffer for this.

Attempting to call a horse over to us proved ineffective as we sensed it could ‘smell the city’ on us. There would have been more chance of us getting a selfie with a Notts local.

Senior citizens roamed the car park, and we weren’t entirely sure what was happening causing us to swiftly exit and head back to the safety of the Orangery. It was the closest thing to a Starbucks for miles around!

No one was behind the counter, so we ditched. Just like they probably had done as well. We left the building reminiscent of a primary school classroom, complete with trophies in pride of place and ran to the bus stop, wanting to return to a grimier Nottingham.

They win Saturday Antics a lot.

We reached the final stretch of the car park and could almost taste the pollution from the bus fumes before, for lack of a better word, a ‘clique’ crossed our path. Kitted head to toe in Joules and Barbour these country lads seemed to rule the roost.

As weird a day as it was, we would definitely recommend. It was one of the most peaceful days at Uni either of us have had. Plus the library was dead so it makes a great revision spot.