So it’s been ages since I’ve done one of these. The most important thing that’s happened in that time? Probably that I passed Semester 1. The most interesting? Almost definitely that I dressed as a woman.
Practice fire alarms are definitely the most annoying part of a Monday morning in halls. Fortunately, they always provide some entertainment. When the real thing happened, it took two fire engines, 12 firemen and an hour of waiting before being told we could go back inside. Turns out it was all for a fairly small oven fire. Having a flatmate that often comes out with no trousers (“I’m wearing pants….”) and apparently has a coat with pockets full of emergency supplies - cigarettes, boxers (worrying) and socks (which were put on 40 minutes and a whole newspaper later) means time flies by.
Apparently Uni is the time to try something new, so when someone suggested all the lads go to the next party dressed as schoolgirls, it was met with a strange enthusiasm that definitely wouldn’t have happened in Bolton. Turns out it’s actually quite hard being a girl: you can’t sit with your legs open, there’s nowhere to put your wallet, and using the urinal is particularly difficult in a skirt. After constant reminder that my legs were open, I eventually got the idea and ended up looking a little more female that I might have originally hoped.
Being in the medicine bubble continues to be interesting. I could (or should) now be able to perform basic life support on an unconscious person. On the downside, my anatomy instructor – trained in advanced life support – told us it was less than 10% effective, and he’d saved 2 people in 50 or 60 tries. Truth be told, this doesn’t fill me with massive optimism. There’s also been an excessive amount of blood pressure being taken, and it’s likely I’ll ask if I can take yours over Easter – all the while slowly depressing many of the arms of Bolton of their regular blood supply.
In some sort of attempt to get fit, me and the flatmates decided to go to some classes at the gym. Upon arrival we realised we were the only lads there, and found out it was a very strong woman shouting at you to “DO 4 MORE” for a particularly painful hour. Fortunately it’s a good laugh, and the instructor – Andrea – tells us all to think of our bikini bodies; the only reason we go. Less fortunate was the slightly embarrassing moment that I tried to get into the gym only to be repeatedly rejected by the barriers. Andrea was on hand to help me out, only to tell me that the reason I couldn’t get in was that I was using my Tesco Clubcard rather than the more commonly used gym card. Not cool.
It’s almost Easter now, and even north England’s sunny. I hope whatever you gave up for Lent was better than what I gave up (wearing my pyjamas in public) and you have a good break.
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| The Ladyboys of Manchester |
