Studenthood

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University, what do you expect?

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

I’ve begun the countdown to my final year at University. York starts ridiculously late, so while everyone else is over Freshers and Freshers’ Flu, we’re still twiddling our thumbs and waiting for our loans to appear.

I’m really struggling to believe I’m already two thirds of the way through my uni life. TWO THIRDS. If my degree was a cake (and I wish it was), then I’d be seriously close to full up by now.

The first slice, sorry, year, was a weird one for me. Probably the most uncharacteristic year of my life, the early months were funded by a massive mood courtesy of a crap break-up. I got vaguely involved in university life, mostly in the form of frequenting York’s nightlife (let us never mention Pub Golf 2011), and learning the perils of leaving food unlabelled in a fridge shared between seventeen people. I had a lot of fun, and learnt a thing or two about linguistics, which was useful.

My “Mandarin” essay/impression

Disappointed with how much of a mardarse I’d been in the first term, and how unproductive I’d been (short of stealing straws in anger at high drinks prices and the occasional kitchen cleaning rage), I swore I’d throw myself into second year. So I enrolled in two evening language classes, got a job waitressing, started this blog, got an editorial role with The Yorker, promised myself I’d finally get travelling, spend less time pining for home, and swore off boys.

My plan was successful. Though I bombed one of the language classes (fuck you, Mandarin), and dropped a full plate of linguini on a customer (didn’t get fired, woo!), otherwise I did pretty well. I was a lot happier overall, saw some wonderful places and made some cracking memories.

So if I’ve been improving year on year at this university lark, by my calculations, this one should be my best. So what am I expecting from third (& final) year?

Well. If the third-years in the library are anything to go by; I’ll be sat with a pen glued to my hand, pale because the enormous piles of books surrounding me are blocking out sunlight, and angrily scowling at anyone that even thinks of making any audible sound. I’ll be jealously stalking all my fresher/second-year friends online. I’ll be wishing I had a hangover, because that would mean I’d gone out and had fun the night before, rather than trying to recreate a social life by trying to befriend the takeaway delivery guy in between essays. “I remember hangovers.” I’ll say. “Hangovers used to be so great.”

I can smell the panic already. But rather than stirring myself into a tizz just yet, I’m going make myself another little promise. If all the essays get too much, and if a First appears just as likely as gaining a guest appearance on Coronation Street, I’m going to take a step back. If that’s an early night, a spooning session with my best friend, or a Friday night lost to word-count-woe fuelled tequila shots, then so be it. My degree is important to me, but so is my sanity, and I’m not going to give either up for the others sake.

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These city streets (The Yorker archives)

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

So, welcome to your new city. We know trying to discover all the best offerings of a new place can be a bit of a pain, so the Lifestyle team have been real generous and are giving you a helping hand in your path to unearthing York’s most interesting spots.

York is FULL of gates. No, not kissing ones. It’s a fancy way of saying street, basically, and it can be quite difficult knowing your Coppergates from your Colliergates. We’ve handpicked the most interesting ones you need to know about!

Jubbergate.
It may sound like something from a Lewis Carroll poem, but it’s not in Wonderland, it’s just off Parliament Square. Home to York’s main market, pick up fresh flowers, fix your phone, and browse local artists’ work.
Swinegate. 
Swinegate has an unusual history; originally a lane where pigs were kept, it later developed a slightly seedier nature when it became home to brothels and prostitutes- then known as “Swingate”, with neighbouring Grape Lane being known as “Grope” lane (charming). Now home to more respectable joints, you’ll find student musts Vudu Lounge and 1331 here.

Hungate. 
Here you’ll find York’s largest and most ambitious excavation site. DIG is literally unearthing York’s astonishingly long history, and although the guided tours have stopped there’s still plenty to be marvelled at over at the exhibition that’ll be hanging around all year.

Whip-ma-whop-ma-gate. 
Short street, long name. The plaque that lives on this street tells us it means “”What a street!” and is probably the only street name to be considered this quirky & adorable anywhere. The “Whip” element comes from the days of public humiliation as punishment- stocks were erected here so petty criminals could receive a good old fashioned flogging.

Shambles. 
No guide to York’s best streets would be complete without heralding the famous Shambles. This cobbled lane has pretty much the coolest namedropping potential out of all York’s streets, having been mentioned in the Doomsday Book in 1086. Usually full of tourists- because it’s plain gorgeous, make sure you check out the incredible chocolatiers, and head down for a romantic stroll at night.

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Originally published in Y Magazine, Issue 1 (view here), 29th Sept ’12
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Twenty things from twenty years

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

As a homage to the loss of my teenage years, and equally as a convenient round-up of all the life lessons and wisdom I’ve worked hard to earn over the last two decades, I’m listing twenty things I’ve learnt over the last twenty years. I assume I’ve learnt more than twenty things in total (totally still remember every word of my essay on the law of theft from two and a half years ago), but I’m procrastinating enough right now as it is. Twenty will have to suffice. Enjoy!

  1. Mum is always right, and also knows everything. Not only about whether it’s going to rain, whether you look ridiculous in that outfit, but about the big stuff too. The university choice, relationship advice, what’s going to happen on Corrie. It kind of sucks when it’s not what you want to hear, because it’s definitely going to happen. 
  2. Charity shop books. They’re basically life’s way of allowing me to fund my reading habit despite the recurring problem of not actually having any money. 
    3. Charity shop haul
  3. Everywhere south of Manchester is “Down South” and masses as one big place that’s next door to London. The Midlands are just southerners attempt to join us, and I for one am not fooled. 
  4. On a completely unrelated note, I have no sense of direction. Learnt the hard way, many, many times.
  5. Always ask for your spicy food to actually be spicy. For some reason, people in restaurants always assume that despite ordering a hot madras, I’m not going to be able to handle heat. It’s cool, I’m kind of a snob about it anyway guys. Don’t skimp on the chilli powder.
  6. Don’t publish embarrassing things online, because the internet is forever.
  7. Moving house is kind of fun. It’s definitely useful that I think this, considering I’ve moved in and out of ten, with another on the way. It’s less fun if you have to do it on your own, resulting in hysterical phone calls to your mum.
  8. Hangover cure= banana milk, trashy TV and lying down. 
  9. Nothing will ever entertain me in the same way as scrolling through my little sister’s Tweets. Personal highlights include “Disappointing bowl of cocopops.” and “I can’t find Wally”.

  10. People that enjoy studying syntax should be treated with suspicion and ultimately ostracised from society, for our own protection.
  11. Don’t play drinking games with Sam Dumigan.Or rugby teams. Or jagerbombs.
  12. There’s a difference in being unprepared and disorganised. I’m usually both, but the difference exists.
  13. Verve, nine o clock, Friday night.
  14. I suck royally at games of any kind. Don’t know what happens if you win at Pacman. I drove carefully on Grand Theft Auto. I never completed Pokemon because I couldn’t figure out how so just imagined Pikachu was my pet and all the other battler-people were my friends. 
    15. Boys: don’t expect them to remember who you are.
  15. If you’re friends with guys, don’t expect them to turn up on time/at all/remember your birthday/remember to invite you to stuff. They will sheepishly love you forever though, so that makes up for it.
  16. Take pictures of everything, because you never know when you might need a stock photo for The Yorker.
  17. If someone makes you a crap brew, tell them before it becomes part of their routine to turn up at your bedside every morning with a cuppa.
  18. How to weave around busy city centres with suitcases, while on the phone, drinking a coffee, running late for a train.
  19. Putting something down usually means I’ll never see it again. Especially if it’s my glasses, phone, keys, essays, treasured jewellery, train tickets, umbrellas. This is because a) I have a terrible short term memory and b) my things are conspiring against me.
  20. Key to happiness is sitting around reading a book listening to Noah. Or it’s reunions with friends. Or it’s car journeys with mum. Or getting top marks in something you’ve worked hard for. Or it’s getting drunk on beaches. Or it’s those little family arguments about who has the most cushions. Or it’s conquering a to-do list. Mostly it’s Geordie Shore.
These guys.
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The Yorker Archives: Getting your deposit back.

Posted on by Farrah Kelly

This time of year is one fraught with distress for students. Results are rolling in thick and fast, it’s at least a four month hiatus from all your university friends, student loans aren’t coming in until next October… and for many of us, our delightful landlords are dangling our deposits just out of reach.

As second and third years will now know, getting your deposits back this summer is a very simple process. You have to have not broken or stolen anything. You have to return keys and other bits and bobs back in time. You have to have hired Kim and Aggy, spend seven full days sobbing over a blue-tack mark on your wall, hoovering the ceilings and polishing the underside of your desks. Also, make sure the oven LITERALLY sparkles, the loo could be used to eat your dinner off, and there isn’t a single stray micro-speck of dust floating in the atmosphere of your bedroom. Otherwise, kiss goodbye to that £300.

Students aren’t exactly notorious for their cleanliness. It’s a fact jumped on by landlords, as they fear for the state of the carpets each time they let out a property to a group of scruffy undergrads. Hence the relatively large deposits and the forty-seven page cleaning manual doled out to many tenants at the end of summer term. They’re just worried they’ll have to rehouse all those traffic cones you brought home after nights out all year, or pay for a professional cleaner to get rid of all the kebab mould from the kitchen. Fair enough.

The requirements set out by your landlord in order to return your deposit may seem tantalisingly obscure, but in reality, you needn’t worry too much. Minimise the possibility of any clashes by being sensible and logical when leaving your student home.

  • Put everything they provided you with in the places that they were in on moving in day. That means the Henry vacuum you haven’t used all year and is being used as a bedside table in your room needs to be put back in the utility cupboard. That way, the landlord won’t think you’ve stolen the entire cutlery collection and charge you for it, when in fact it’s all there underneath your bed. 
  • Double check what they expect to be left in the house. This means examining the inventory you should have been given. It can be pretty easy to quickly become attached to certain household items (tin openers that miraculously work, for example), so unless you’re 100% certain that that kettle is yours, you’d be better off cross-referencing the inventory with everything you’re stowing away in the moving van. 
  • Take photos of the house right before you leave. Not necessarily for nostalgic reasons, though I’m sure in twenty years’ time you’ll get a great laugh out of looking at the shower you used to use. Rather, these photographs or recordings will provide you with some kind of proof of how you left the house. If there are any disputes over cleanliness or missing items, then you will be able to consult these pictures. 

Although it may seem like a mammoth task to polish your student digs up into pristine condition, making sure you put a little extra elbow grease in may be the difference between getting your deposit back and being forced to beg your parents for Efe’s money. Also as your deposit should be protected by the Deposit Protection Scheme, any really serious disputes can be taken to them. Happy scrubbing!

[FIRST PUBLISHED http://theyorker.co.uk/lifestyle/cashflow/11826
ALSO PUBLISHED http://onestowatchmedia.com/2012/07/01/claiming-back-your-housing-deposit-a-student-guide/]