A Day in My Life 1: 12/05/22 - 13/05/22

Admire me managing to chat shit about absolutely fuck all.

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My day really began at 1:30 pm yesterday, where finally, after a fry-up induced coma, and four hours of sleep, I was angrily jostled awake by both Eden and Rozzi. I wearily got up, forced myself into my mismatched flip-flops and stolen robe, and got into the shower. I think showering may be both one of my least, and favourite, activities of the day. The thought of walking out of my room, pretty much as naked as the day I was born, hauling my shampoo and bare bar of soap, genuinely gives me such anguish. Nevertheless, when I actually get in the mouldy and hair-riddled cubicles, it’s actually not too bad. Having a few minutes, even in those awful conditions, to really “take care” of yourself, is really quite nice. I think that’s why I like doing my nails and makeup so much: those few minutes to really focus on yourself. Especially in a place like Hiatt Baker Catered where every three seconds you are knocking on someone’s door, or someone is knocking on yours.

Anyway, I put on some sort of quasi/wannabe 80s biker outfit. Which, in hindsight was the least “biker” thing you have ever seen. I literally just had ratty wet hair, headphones, a leather jacket, and a white crop top. So, rather shocking that I just referred to it like that. I also had my glasses on, unusual for me because they are practically as large as my face and end up on the end of my nose every time. Despite this, I had a headache, and I thought they somewhat looked decent with the outfit. I was called “odd-looking” and “unrecognisable” when I saw a friend on my way to Wills Library so, cheers for that, love.

I also was accosted by one of my old flatmates in the Costa opposite Wills. I find it somewhat unforgivingly awkward when someone whom I'm not close with, but know well, physically is serving me food and I am physically handing them over money? I genuinely think it's one of the worst things in the world; an acquaintance serving me a product.

My library experience was maybe one of the least productive days I have ever had. To be honest, I’m not too sure that that’s quite fair. I applied to six jobs and, I made a whole bloody website! Regardless, I did not do a single ounce of work required for my three essays and one exam due next week. I think I spent more time on my single ciggie than I did on my “Living Religions East Exam Prep” document.

Day done, as WIX was confusing me to no end and I had a headache, I headed back to Hiatt Baker to get ready for the night. It was Maddie’s birthday and my God was I ready to wear my new frock out on the town. Maxi dress adorned, with beat-up Dunks and a Primark grey zippy as accessories to make the outfit more casual (otherwise I was literally just wearing a prom dress), I stepped into Joe Clarke’s room of wonder, and cheesy 90s Brit-Pop. To be fair to him, he needed to exert his Brum. dominance on the very “London” group that surrounded him, so we did get a few Birmingham bangers too. Whilst everyone was singing, dancing, and downing their overly-watery squashka, I was stuck in the corner on Arjun’s phone, thirst-messaging women on his Hinge until one of them agreed to a threesome. No dice, unfortunately. But, I will still continue aggressively until one of them finally responds to one of my awful pick-up lines.

White Harte was nice. I liked the company, of course, and I got to see Jess, Dom, George squared and even Esme, as well as the ladies and gents I was supposed to go out with. It was nice, and my Sex on the Beach(es) were quite lovely, albeit obviously made with about 2mm of alcohol and about a ton of sugar. I do think, however, that pubs are so much more enjoyable when you have one seat that is “yours” for the night, you don’t spend hours queuing at the bar, and you don’t have to spend your night sitting on people’s laps or just hovering over a full table of about twenty-odd people.

I was in the toilet, however, when I realised that it was nearing the stroke of midnight. Whilst all my friends were adamant about going to Lola Lo’s or La Rocca, I genuinely would have rather stuck my leg into a grinder. Therefore, as I saw the digital 23:50 on my phone clock, I hoisted up my mother’s Mark’s and Spencer’s shapewear and snuck upstairs, to leave without saying goodbye to a single person. Unfortunately for me (because she stinks), Eden accosted me at the bar saying “I might go home soon”. I did the classic jump-up-and-down, high-pitched voice in excitement as I explained how I was about to do the same thing!

Excited for our Wok To Walk, we practically skipped down Park Street. Only to find, shock horror, that it was closed! Five minutes before they say they do on Google. I’m thinking of writing a TripAdvisor after this, I was absolutely devastated and I’m unsure I will ever be happy again. Diamond Kebab, just down the road, sufficed instead. And, to be fair, I doubt the stir-fryers would have referred to me as “baby” when asking whether I wanted mayo or salad in my chicken burger.

As we approached Queen’s Avenue, our eyes glistened as we saw the reflection of the U1 bus on Beacon House, as if it was waiting for us and us alone, to whisk us home after our travels. It was not. The man (the old one with the flat cap) adamantly refused us entry onto the bus on account of our half-eaten burgers. We tried, quite vigorously, to tipsily seduce his principles away, and get on the bus. Alas, we were unable to get home. Defeated, sad, and quite tired, we traipsed back to the benches outside Jason Donnervan’s, which by now are less bench and more “mouldy backboard”, with absolutely nowhere to place your bum, however small it may be.

Here we saw Rozzi, stumbling back, chips in hand (which is an unusual sight from the girl), alone and with a forlorn look on her face. We called out to her, and without any acknowledgement or smile, she slumped in between us and slurred, “guys, I am so fucked”. She had recently submitted a few essays for an exam, so was in the mood to party, but unlike most of us, she wasn’t really a person who liked to get “sloshed”, so this new feeling of dizziness and sick was somewhat foreign to her. I told her the next bus was in an hour, and without any words, she took out her Uber app and ordered one swiftly. I tried to protest, but to be honest, I tried very poorly purposefully and I got a free ride home. Absolutely divine!

We tucked little sick Rosario into her blue-lit room, of which always seems very clean, despite her not cleaning it too often. We brushed her teeth, and she took her make-up on whilst she made frequent comments about how unusual this was for her. We knew, sweet cheeks. As we were getting her to bed with 15-second sounds of rain Eden found on TikTok, I made a very off-the-cuff comment about how she felt, and suddenly, the clear recycle bag I brought from the kitchen was filled. The sounds of chunder were intermittently challenged by chuckles and giggles from Ed and I, as well as the hilarious “on violation!” that Rozzi was proclaiming between gasps of air.

After saying goodnight to the girls, I focused on my true task for the night. Cleaning my room and getting my affairs in order, which if I say so myself, was wildly successful. I woke up with all my washing ready to go, my floor vacuumed, and the privilege of not having to leap between my bed and door just to get out as the pile of clothes had become unruly.

This is where I woke up to maybe one of my favourite days in Bristol thus far. It was just so wholesome! Maja was performing for her Music degree assessment and she asked us to come! We met her parents, who, like parents usually are, were so similar to her. She was a perfect physical and emotional amalgamation of her mum and dad, and like her, they were bloody hilarious. We waited outside in the sun on the steps of The Old Vic Rooms as we all nervously awaited her slot time. I was so scared for her, but I knew she would do amazingly.

Nevertheless, when she started performing, all my expectations were exceeded. She was genuinely one of the most fantastic, if not the most fantastic, singers I have ever had the fortune to watch. All of us sat there, with chills up and down her arms as her voice filled the recital hall. And, when her second song came, she sang it with such emotion my eyes welled up with tears. I have never understood how parents just cried at absolutely everything their children did, but I finally understood it. As, of course, I am the equivalent of Maja's mother? Honestly, incredible. She was divine.

We went to this lovely beer garden near the recital hall afterwards, and her parents brought all of us drinks and thrilled us with their humour and their interest in our lives. On the way home, we also bumped into two of the '24 hours in the ASS' boys, and they were greeted with a hero's welcome. I am getting ready to go out with my coursemates, which I haven't done in absolutely forever although I love them so dearly, so am very excited. I'm even wearing a skirt, although I doubt that I won't rip it off in disdain ten seconds before I am supposed to leave.