It's been a while...

It’s regretful that I have to start another blog by acknowledging the fact that I haven’t written one in months but, yet again, it must be done. The reasons for this stretch far and wide, some may say, too far and too wide! So I won’t attempt to bore you with these reasons, which stretch, to the very horizons of each and every one of your sensory perceptions.
  Yes it has been quite a while since I have written a single word. I feel that now, enough time has passed for me to be able to string out five hundered or so words informing my avid readers of what exactly I have been up to for the past 4-5 months and it will be sufficient and perhaps entertaining enough.
  Well my last blog was posted at the end of March, slightly before or perhaps slightly after my last exam, I don’t really remember. What I do remember is that I passed all my exams and am able to cling to the label of ‘student’ and to all the luxuries that go hand in hand with that label, such as getting marginal percentage discounts from selected retail outlets and a special railcard that says student on it, which gets you a third of any journey just like all the other types of railcard you can purchase.
 Since then I have been comfortably busying myself by doing nothing. Every now and then I’ll try desperately to find a job but it seems that every CV I have handed out is another wasted piece of paper playing its part in destroying the rainforests, something I abhor. So I have decided to stop printing off CVs that don’t even get looked at, another step towards saving the planet.
  Another studenty thing that I have experienced is the feverish excitement I’m sure all students endure when they have to move all there shit from one place to another. I’m not sure how it happened but over the course of the year I managed to accumulate quite a lot of random stuff I barely used such as an accordion, a violin and a nerf gun to name a few. Perhaps the greatest acquirement was obtained on the day we moved out of the flat.
    As our sneaky Korean housemates emigrated before the end of the tenancy, myself and two other English tenants I live with, had to clean the entire flat. Not only did they leave the tidying to us but also they pretty much left all the things they kept in the communal area of the flat. Fearing we would lose our deposit if the flat was full of stuff we decided to claim it all. The most precious treasure we acquired was there fancy Korean rice cooker. Unfortunately all the buttons are in Korean so unable to use it, it serves only as a cultural ornament and talking point, perched proudly on a table in the centre of the living room in the new house.
  At the moment our abode for the following year of university is bare and unappealing, (apart from the living room of course!) The alarms go off every time someone moves and I am scared of the responsibility of having to arrange bills and their payments. So currently the house functions only as a sort of squat, a cold building in which you can shelter from the elements and sleep, providing you are very very still.
  I am planning on furnishing it with bohemian wall hangings and various other gnarly stuff to make it more homely; perhaps I’ll upload a picture or two when it is complete.
  That about wraps it up, a few other occurrences have occupied my time but I’ll save them to give me something to write about another day.

Bacon

It’s been a number of weeks since I last updated this blog, the reasons for this vary between laziness, lack of inspiration and excessive amounts of coursework. Over the course of the last week I spent many hours frantically trying to finish ten worksheets that we were meant to be completing throughout the academic year. As I never seem to panic or get worried about deadlines I always end up leaving the majority of them to the last minute, so far this doesn’t seem to have compromised my grades but I don’t think I’ll be taking any chances next year, mainly because University is expensive. It would be a waste of money if I graduated with anything less than a 2:1. 
  Anyway, what inspired me to write today is a very real hazard to everyone whom I consider real people. This hazard being the ‘bacon police’, which is a phrase coined by myself in accordance to anyone who has anything negative to say about bacon… Shame on them!
  According to ‘Science’, which I have ridiculously over generalised for the sake of my argument, eating bacon or any red meat for that matter everyday is bad for you. The result of bacon badness, being bowel cancer. When I first heard this I expected it was the kind of scaremongering you would find in the daily mail, according to that particular institution being a black person gives you cancer amongst many other things, so I assumed it was just invented to instigate needless paranoia and I shouldn’t let it coerce me into eating less bacon.
  However after reading a story about it on the BBC website backed up with statistics I decided that there might actually be some risk in eating bacon everyday.
  This prompted me to cut down on my bacon consumption slightly but I still expected that at some point in the near future ‘science’ would find some new research telling us that actually bacon isn’t bad, its magical and it fights cancer and terrorism at the same time with one hand tied behind its back…bacon.
  Sadly this news never arrived, but I did stumble across some other news which should bring the joy back into your life, unless of course your fictional man in the sky says pigs are dirty and you can’t eat bacon anyway, which also places you into the fictional category when I afore mentioned ‘real people’.
 Anywho before this blog digresses into a rant about organised religion I’ll get back to the point. I was on the BBC website yesterday when I read a startling piece of news. According to new research if you eat an Aspirin a day it dramatically reduces the risk of developing cancer, particularly Bowel cancer.  I’m not entirely sure why, but the article failed to explain what I deduced straight away. Aspirin cancels out Bacon cancer!

  So my top tip of the day is if you’re worried your eating too much bacon or the ‘bacon police’ are oppressing you, just have an aspirin after your bacon sandwich. 

Wrath in response to the apparatus

Since I started University, Tuesdays have become my least favourite day of the week. On Tuesdays I am a victim of the heinous crime of having to waking up at 9 o’clock. I then have to make the arduous journey from my flat, up some of oxford road, negotiating a busy road, avoiding collisions with busses and people who can’t walk at speeds exceeding two miles per hour. Then when I eventually arrive at Uni I have to scour my mind in order to remember which lecture theatre or seminar room I need to be in. After this I endure two hours of brain exhausting ‘learning’. I must then tackle the return journey with all the perils that plagued me on my outwards venture.
  When I think about it, the three other days I am in University are pretty much exactly the same as Tuesdays, though the 9am wake up is replaced by a 1pm wake up.  And if I compare my average week this year with my average week at college where I had to get up at 7am and usually got in 5.30pm I feel like I shouldn’t have any reason to complain.  However I complain anyway.
  Though this particular Tuesday has been slightly more irritating that my average Tuesday, which is the reason for me writing about it.
  Today I decided to start an essay that’s deadline is 9 days away from now. I was going to leave it a little longer because I didn’t think it would take too long to write 2000 words on Christina Rossetti.  Not unless the university introduced some ridiculous rule regarding this essay, which they did. We are forbidden from using any Internet sources to research said poet!
  I don’t understand the reasoning for this decision; the Internet was created for sharing information. All Universities should actively rejoice everyday and thank Tim Berners Lee for creating the World Wide Web, (see I just learnt who invented the Word Wide Web thanks to the World Wide Web, BE IN AWE AND FEAR THE POWER OF TIM) by sacrificing a nerd.  The Internet is an omnipotent omniscient overlord that actually exists, unlike all those gods that people go on about.
 Denying the use of the Internet in a modern assignment is like forcing the emergency services to use horses.
  This means that the time I could have spent writing the essay will be spent exploring the library for relevant books which are readily available from the relative comfort of the staffroom furniture provided by my halls of residence. On realisation that my time was under assault by an oppressive rule I decided that I must do what others have done in similar situations and revolt against the domineering apparatus. This involved me sticking my fingers up at the computer screen and to any prospects of getting any work done tonight, and then drinking Guinness and Irish Coffee. Now it is no longer Tuesday and I don’t have to get up at all as I don’t have university on Wednesdays, I do however need to go to a library and study multiple books that might not even have any significant information in.
 However, I recently had a kind of alcohol induced epiphany, I needn’t bother waste time looking at books in the library when the internet has sites and tools for looking inside actual books and finding all the details I need to reference them. The University will be none the wiser and their rule is pointless, gratuitous and unenforceable. I also demonstrated revolutions are successful when fuelled by Guinness.

House Hunting

In late November I was surprised by one of my high school chums informing me that he had already put a deposit down on a house for his second year at university. This immediately put me into a state of panic, as I assumed that everyone else had started to secure accommodation whilst I had barely thought about it.

  Driven by fear of being a homeless student I wandered into the closest estate agent and pleaded for assistance with finding a suitable abode for myself, and two of my current flatmates. I was told by an agent to peruse the properties on the companies website and email him when we had found some houses we would like to look at. This seemingly easy task was made infuriating as, for reasons still unknown, the estate agent wouldn’t respond to an email unless I sent it to him multiple times. I decided that the reason for this derives from the stereotypical estate agent being a wanker. It wasn’t his fault it was merely part of the job description. After numerous emails sent, in return for little advice or insight, we eventually secured a viewing of three houses in early January.

  We met a representative, near the first house on our list, then ventured to it. After knocking on the door with no answer she assured us that the current tenants were aware of the situation then promptly let herself in. I personally felt like we were breaking some kind of law entering someone’s house without knowing whether they really gave their consent. However we wondered in anyway and found one of the tenants still asleep unaware of what was going on. At this point I started to doubt that he had given his consent. After looking around briefly and quietly we decided to move onto the next house.

  Like the first house the agent knocked, then let herself in. Although this time the two people who were in knew that we were coming and provided us with more information about renting houses than our estate agent did.

 At the third house the sales rep didn’t get a chance to use her set of keys as a chap with a broad grin opened the door slightly and told us to give him five minutes. After waiting five minutes we entered the house to be greeted by a strong herbal aroma and another guy who was also clearly in high spirits. We explored the house a bit and in one of the bedrooms found two plant pots with a light above them, which were obviously for growing bedroom tomatoes. After looking around for a short while we decided that we liked this house the best as it was the cheapest, at the best location and smelt nicest.

 The next day I emailed the estate agents three times, as I was now accustomed to him being awful, telling him we would like to put a deposit down on the third house. A couple of days later I received an email from him telling me to ring him.

I attempted to ring him several times but he was equally difficult to communicate with over the phone. Eventually he picked up the phone and apologised as the estate agents had advertised the house we wanted incorrectly.

Apparently the price and number of bedrooms were incorrect. I understood how the price could be incorrect but the number of bedrooms we saw was three and number advertised on the website was also three. How they managed to hide a bedroom is a mystery that made the house even more desirable to me. After finding out that all the houses we viewed that day were now unavailable to us we found ourselves back at square one.

  After this ordeal we have decided to cut out the middleman and not bother with estate agents. Instead were looking exclusively at properties where we can speak directly with the landlord. This way you get a good idea of whether or not you’re going to get on with the landlord, you save paying all the ridiculous agency fees and you don’t have to deal with the bastards that are estate agents. Hopefully we shall find a house soon.

A Christmassy Rant

Its that time of year again when the snow falls from the sky, everyone comes together in the spirit of cheer, adorable little cherubs knock upon our doors and sing us endearing songs about our messiah who saved us all  and we are trapped within an inescapabable world of commercial harassment that is Christmas. Except wait, in my eighteen years of survival I’m yet to witness a white Christmas day, everyone is still a dick to each other and the little carol singers are confined to the front of a supermarket ignored by the majority of our populace who couldn’t give a shit about Jesus unless there getting presents or chocolate. So all it really is, is an inescapable world of commercial harassment. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Christmas, (Well I don’t hate Christmas day. Which in my opinion is the only day during the holiday season, which should be acknowledged if you choose to celebrate Christmas) Its every other day in the weeks prior to Christmas that cause the bile to rise in my stomach.
  Every year over the entire country in mid November adverts on television and in shop windows make damn well sure we don’t forget that Christmas is on the way. I personally like to think of these early signs as a warning system of what’s to come; otherwise there presence causes me to scream “JESUS CHRIST!!, IT ISN’T EVEN CHRISTMAS FOR A MONTH” at the nearest person who looks like there unaware of this fact. Similar to some small mammals that sensing the impending cold of winter, go into hibernation. These ‘first adverts’ remind me not to turn on the television or go into densely populated areas such as towns or cities and to stay in bed for the majority of the day.  However sooner or later I end up having to face up to the ridiculously stressful scenario of buying presents.
  This year I intended to do my entire Christmas shopping online, though when I realised I had less than five days to buy the remainder of the presents I realised that anything I ordered from now on would not be delivered in time for Christmas day. At first the idea of leaving the house and venturing into a Christmassy environment revolted me causing an almighty rage to build within me. Eventually this subsided only for it to return even mightier when I drew close to the shopping centre. The first thing I noticed was a crudely animated decorative Father Christmas that seemed to be convulsing violently as though in the grip of a sudden possibly terminal ailment. This was followed by a menagerie of other tacky decorations and feeble lights that failed to impress. These were bad enough but when I entered the shopping centre I was immediately tormented by what I believe to be the worst part of Christmas, which is the music.  Every single year the same terrible songs are played repeatedly wherever you seem to be. Each one sounding menacingly similar to all the rest whilst at the same time sounding different and managing to embody everything I hate about Christmas. They all seem to involve lyrics about decorating the house, the music that is on during Christmas and enjoying everyone else as company. I’m not really sure how there came to be so many but at the same time hearing the same ones over and over each and every Christmas causes me to wish death upon all Christmas artists, except one. The only Christmas song I’m not ashamed to admit enjoying is ‘fairytale of New York’, which I enjoy because the Pogue’s are an underrated band who have done numerous other songs I like and because ‘fairytale of New York’ is ultimately about a pissheads empty promises on Christmas which is a much needed break from the rest of the Christmas songs.
  If you can block out the Christmas anthems incessantly being played the next emotional distress you have to deal with is the anxiety of what to get everyone for Christmas. I have to buy at least twelve presents for twelve different people every year and each year it becomes increasingly difficult to decide what to get everyone. Looking back on previous years I think about how easy it was to get my younger cousins one of many cheapish toys that they would have genuinely been pleased to get, now a few years down the line they have all outgrown toys so I have to actually think about what to get them. Which isn’t only difficult because you have to think of something each person will like but is made increasingly complicated by the politics of Christmas shopping. You have to consider how much your going to spend on each person and whether or not to buy two presents for someone if you spent quite a bit on a present for someone else. Eventually I battled through these difficulties and got most of my shopping done which leads onto the irritating and downright appalling tradition of wrapping the presents. Apparently the generous act of going out of your own time to think about and buy someone a present isn’t enough to please some people. If you unintentionally do a terrible job on wrapping a present, (usually for a grandparent) on Christmas day you can expect a glance of disappointment as you hand them the gift as though the appearance of the wrapping paper will make or break their Christmas. Which is completely unnecessary as the wrapping paper usually just ends up going into the fire or into the bin (well these days recycling bin).  Yet despite these, and a few more other annoying aspects leading up to Christmas when I’m sitting in my living room opening my gifts I’ll forget all this because at the end of the day in despite of what people will tell you Christmas is really just about getting presents.

Student Solutions- Spending your loan

I often find that money burns a hole in my pocket. When I checked my balance after my loan came through and I had over a thousand pounds I immediately wanted to purchase a luxury pet such as a pelican, a slow loris or perhaps one of those cats with squashed faces. For most undergraduate students their loan is the largest amount of money they have ever had access to. I imagine, that like me, temptation to spend it on things they have always wanted is all too great. On top of this the banks don’t exactly encourage responsible spending, with the ridiculous overdraft offers on the student accounts luring students into debt, I decided to stay with my normal saving account to avoid temptation. However the bank had created another way for me to be irresponsible with my money. I had been planning on creating a standing order, which would allow me to live on a set amount of money each week, but apparently I was not deemed worthy of this option as I had ‘the wrong account’. Now I have to log on to digital banking every week and manually transfer my funds. Every time I do this I contemplate and then transfer how much money I’m likely to spend in the week when I originally wanted to be living on a budget.
On the surface this doesn’t really sound like much of a problem but if you don’t budget you could fall into some expensive habits whether its buying expensive brands of food, regular nights out or a crippling crack addiction you’ll find that your spending more money than you realise. If you don’t realise or you fail to address your overspending you’ll eventually find yourself surviving off your house/flatmates left over and out of date meals, wallowing in your own self-pity, reduced to performing degrading acts in the high street for small change. Your life will get gradually worse until the next payment of your loan. At this point some will realise the error of their ways, others will go out and buy the cat with the squashed face and the vicious cycle will continue.
At university were lucky that you can make these mistakes and not end up having to wash your clothes in public toilets providing you only make the mistakes once, as well as getting a degree were teaching ourselves how to look after ourselves. Your student loan will probably be the best loan you get in your entire life, you have no interest and you don’t have to start paying it back until your earning over £15,000, and even then you pay it back gradually. Make the most of it, go out and treat yourself with it, but just remember to make sure you have enough to survive comfortably on.

Student Solutions- Korean housemates do's and don'ts

Admittedly the title makes this blog seem like its aimed at a fairly niche audience but I’m sure my ideas will apply to any foreign student you may be sharing a flat/house with. First of all and most importantly don’t assume that your South Korean flat mates are lying about coming from the south due to the red stars they put on their milk. After not mistaking them for communists make sure you don’t ensue in seeing the shared living area as land that they may be invading and definitely don’t devise a counter attack after they invite a few of their Korean friends around one night.
Ok well those initial points may have only been relevant if you are sharing with South Korean people and even then I don’t know if they’re as relevant as I thought they were. Sharing a flat/house with someone who speaks minimal English can be quite difficult, especially when you set off on the wrong foot.
After finding it hard to hold a conversation with my South Korean flatmates I didn’t really speak to them much after I first met them. This was a wrong move and was most probably the reason why ‘Patrick’ hated me for a short while. It became apparent after one night me, and the two English people I share with, had some friends over and got quite merry. At around five I was in particularly good spirits and thought it would be a good idea to turn up the volume. Shortly after this an angry shirtless Patrick came in and turned off the music, at which point we remembered that they lived here and felt a bit guilty. A couple of days later when I next saw him I did apologise, but he didn’t really acknowledge me and for the following week on the rare occasion I would see him, he glared at me. This is mostly due to no attempt at conversation with him. If you don’t speak to your flat/house mates and they are in the minority they hide in their rooms and you have no idea whether they are in or not. Not talking to them also means you don’t know what days they have early starts, whether or not they are planning on having friends around and pretty much everything else about them, so despite it being awkward when you have to ask them to repeat what they said and vice versa, I advise talking to your foreign flat/house mates more often. Think of it like this, the more you talk to them the better there English will get, then you might become friends and stay up getting merry and playing loud music with them. It is easy to forget but some foreign students have travelled thousands of miles to come and study in a completley alien environment. Unsurprisingly they can often feel very isolated and alone. So even though, sometimes you may find it difficult, try and make them feel at home in the flat with you and eventually the pub too.