fresher's week revisited

This time last year I disappeared altogether. Here's what actually happened.

I arrived at Royal Holloway on the 24th of September 2004 and found that I was the first person to arrive in my flat. Having mistakenly believed that I was in fact living in the flat upstairs I was quite relieved not to have anyone to share this humiliation with (I tried breaking into the room above me, how do you think I felt?)

Then Reena arrived, then Adam, Kate. Days later, Endrit. Then Jay, the Korean girl who didn't seem to like us that much.

Adam, being the only guy initially, became our unofficial bodyguard. He happened to be out of the flat when we found the spiders, then later told us that they might nest in the hoover and come to get us. I didn't sleep well.

The next day we went shopping in Egham and I got the monthly fun known as stomach cramps. Went home, went to bed.

Monday I went to a drama induction meeting. A blonde girl came over and spoke to me, her name was interesting, Jewish. I forgot it later that day when, feeling queasy, I went home to nap and woke up with an incredible need to vomit.

And vomit I did. And again. And then some.

The first three days I remember in crystal detail, from what time I napped to when I woke up, the exact time I first vomited, everything I ate that day, at what time and who with and the order in which it came back up.

The cheese and pickle muffin that I called Adam to ask if I could eat. He said I could, they were out of date anyway.

The lasagne and coke from Founder's dining hall, lunch with Naomi, Matt and Fflur, telling the rudest jokes we could remember.

The strawberry wholegrain yoghurt and shredded wheat.

The Ribena.

The next few days go blurry. I remember calling my parents and begging them to come and get me. Calling everyone I knew just to chat, to hear a friendly voice. I remember curling up in my bed and weeping uncontrollably, wanting to be held like a kid.

Thursday I finally left the flat, went to the Fresher's fayre, lost my debit card.

It was the worst week.

The next week I approached the blonde girl and told her what a shit time I was having. She agreed that, oh my god, uni is brass, and we went to get pissed on vodka and fruit juice. Things started looking up.

My flatmates and I baked a cake wearing dresses and high heels.

I started to have fun. I started to have a lot of fun.

I've watched so many mates go off to uni in the last couple of weeks and when I think about it, how amazing and awful and long and short and exhausting and exhilirating the whole Fresher's experience was, all I can think of to say is - brace yourself.

You're never gonna be the same again. Brace yourself.