My Long Days as a Student in Britain

Problems start early. In Britain, the wide range of courses to choose from is often too much. There are many young people who begin their first year at university with no clear idea of what they are studying, or why. There is no end of students who change their minds, their courses, their teachers – and their futures. Some students fall out of university altogether, some fall into debt because of small student loans, and some just fall off to sleep in the lecture hall.

It’s a stressful time. There are no guidebooks to being a student. You’re on your own. There’s nobody to tidy up after you, nobody to cook for you, nobody to wash your underwear.

When I was a student in Manchester I made friends, and together we had a great time tidying, cooking and washing together. For two years, I shared a house with two girls and another lad. University can give you some of the best friendships you will ever make, which could last a lifetime. One of these was with Discover English editor Howard, who had Party time! come to study from the South of England.

We found that we were both interested in the same things -films, wine, Pre-Raphaelite girls. In the third and final year of our course we shared a small, rented house in a rough area of the city close to the stadium and floodlights of Manchester City Football Club. On Saturdays we could hear a roar every time a goal was scored. After the game, gangs of rival football supporters would face each other with stones and knives outside our window. We would turn our chairs away from the TV and instead watch the action on the street.

In the warm sunshine of summer, our area took on a rich, exotic flavour. Many parts of cities in Britain are truly cosmopolitan. Where we lived, markets, shops and restaurants offered foods and spices from China, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Palestine and the many islands of the Caribbean.

Our rented house, however, was not so desirable. It was a typical house for students. The wallpaper was peeling off, thanks to the rising damp and rotting walls. Every morning we went into the kitchen to find the silver trails of slugs which had come in through the gap under the back door. The furniture of the house was more 17th than 20th century – except for the oven, which seemed to date back to the Iron Age. Then there was the temperature. Even on the hottest day it was rarely above freezing. We walked around the house wrapped up, looking like eskimos. We warned our friends to bring scarves and gloves if they were coming round.

Like all students, we faced these things with courage. But when the time came to study for our final exams, our neighbour, an old man living alone, suddenly began to play loud marching music. This noise went on for days… weeks… We banged on the wall, but the”old man couldn’t hear us. We just had to learn to concentrate and somehow ignore the din.

Student food in Britain usually comes in tins: baked beans, tomato soup, tinned sardines, tinned carrots and tinned potatoes. Often, if we were very hungry, we would mix all of these together. Then we would add rice, pasta, or even bits of bread. We can say now that cooking really produced in us a spirit of adventure and invention.

Of course, we had plenty of parties. These would take the following routine: a short but honest attempt at cleaning the house before the guests arrived; buying cheap crisps, peanuts and as much alcohol as was legally possible; welcoming the guests from about 7 p.m.; playing loud music, laughing, shouting, dancing and stamping around; trying to stay sober until at least 10 p.m.; wanting to use the toilet so much that waiting in the queue was impossible and going in the street desirable; being ready at the end of the evening to let guests sleep over in the bedrooms, corridors, kitchen, bath or on the stairs; and waking up the morning after with a terrible headache and a bad stomach, while telling yourself that this is all part of the great student tradition.